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“Yeah, well, you shouldn’t be showering this late at night,” I grumble as I stand.
As soon as I’m on my feet, I rush to the bathroom and snatch the robe from the back of the door. I step further into the bathroom where I’m out of Brody’s view before dropping my towel and putting on the robe. I throw the towel at Brody.
“Cover yourself.” I wait until I hear him stand before asking, “Are you decent?”
“Still blind, but decent.”
I allow myself to glimpse his way. Phew. His towel is wrapped around his legs and nothing is exposed. Nothing except his chest. Great goddess of pottery Athena. How the hell does Brody, the prankster who spends his days buried behind his computer, have a six-pack?
My mouth waters as I study his firm muscles. Are they hard to touch? Or is his skin soft? My belly warms as I imagine touching his naked skin. All of his naked skin. Every single inch.
“What’s going on?” Brody reaches his hands out to search for me. “Did you desert me here while I’m going blind?”
I wish I could. I’d run away from him and these inappropriate feelings. But I can’t let anyone suffer. Not even someone as annoying as Brody Bragg.
“Come on.” I grasp his hand and lead him into the bathroom. “I’ll rinse your eyes out.”
“I got it,” he says as he climbs into the shower.
“But the water hasn’t warmed up yet.”
“A cold shower isn’t a bad idea at the moment,” he mutters before closing the curtain. The towel comes flying over the top of the curtain rod a few seconds later. Oh my. Brody’s naked in the shower.
Don’t think about it, Soleil. You have no business thinking about Brody Bragg in your shower. He’s an immature prankster who drives you crazy. He’s not for you. I back out of the bathroom and shut the door behind me.
I don’t know about this whole living together as roommates thing. A roommate has never made me want to rip my towel off and expose myself before.
Chapter 4
Who stole the keys to my truck? ~ Text from Elder to the Bragg brothers
Ihear the distinct sound of beeping from a truck backing up and bolt upward in bed. The truck sounds awful close to my window. I jump up and rush to the window before pulling aside the curtain.
There’s a truck backing up toward my shed. I blink. I must be seeing things. No way is there a truck driving through my yard. But no matter how many times I blink my eyes, it doesn’t disappear. What the hell?
I hurry outside. “What’s going on?”
The truck stops in front of my shed and Brody jumps out. I should have known. Great. The prankster is at it again. If he breaks another piece of pottery, I’m going to shove him into my pottery kiln. Screw Winter Falls and their peace loving hippy ways. A woman has her limits.
I growl at him. “What are you doing?”
He beams a smile at me. “I’m helping.”
“Helping?” I fist my hands on my hips. “I don’t want your help. You’re a pottery destroyer.”
Hurt flashes in his eyes. “I’m trying to make up for my mistake.”
“Mistake? How is you blaring music a mistake?”
“I didn’t realize how distracting the music would be. I didn’t think you’d break any of your pottery.”
I blow out a breath. I am done discussing his stupid prank. He can apologize all he wants. Blaring music when someone is working on her art isn’t a prank. It’s immature and careless.
“Moving on. What are you doing with a truck in my backyard?”
“You said you needed help getting your pottery to the community center for this weekend’s festival.”
Crap. He’s right. I do need help. But I don’t trust him with my precious pottery. It’s my livelihood. And someone’s gotta pay the bills since Brody seems perfectly content to mooch off of me.
