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“You sure?”
He met Cam’s eye, nodding slightly. “Absolutely certain. I’ll see you at eight.” He stood as Cam left, then headed for the shower, jumping in and out before grabbing some fresh clothes from the closet and sliding them on. He had one last email to send, which he did before closing his curtains and checking himself in the mirror.
He probably should have trimmed his beard, but there wasn’t time. And he couldn’t be bothered, anyway. Here in Hartson’s Creek, being perfectly groomed didn’t seem that important.
Or at least it didn’t until he bumped into Grace –literally– as he walked down the stairs.
“Shit!”
Grace wobbled, and he had to reach out to steady her.
“You okay?” he asked her. Thank Christ she was holding onto the handrail. With their difference in body weight, he could have sent her flying down the stairs.
“Did he just say a bad word?”
He looked down to see Delilah – Presley’s daughter – standing behind Grace, peeping around her hip at him.
“He did.” Grace looked at him and lifted a brow. Michael’s hands were still curled around her waist. He let her go, and she looked almost disappointed.
“You should wash your mouth out with soap and water,” Delilah told him, her voice serious.
Michael somehow kept a straight face. “I know. I won't do it again.” He looked up at Grace. “You need something?” he asked, because they looked like they were on a mission.
“Sabrina sent us up to get some towels. She wants everybody to have a foot soak,” Delilah told him. “Even me.”
“That right, huh?” He smiled at the little girl.
“I’ll grab you some. How many do you need?” He addressed that one to Grace, because he was pretty sure Delilah had no idea.
“Half a dozen, please.”
“Can I use the bathroom while I’m up here?” Delilah asked.
“Sure. There’s one over there.” He pointed at the door and she skipped to it, pulling it closed behind her. “Want to come get the towels?” he asked Grace. “They’re on the next floor.”
“Okay.”
He could hear her soft breaths behind him as he walked up the next flight of stairs. They reached the upper floor and he turned right, walking past his own room. Opening the linen closet, he found a pile of older towels that could work and turned to give them to her.
Her eyes pulled up to his almost immediately. Had she been looking at his ass?
A wry smile pulled across his lips.
“What?”
He shook his head. “Nothing.”
“Good.” She held out her hands for the towels.
“You need anything else?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Nope, all set. Are you going out with the others?”
“Yeah. Supposed to meet them at the bar in half an hour.”
“Have fun,” she told him.
“You, too.”
