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There was a pause then, “Kind of dangerous.” His voice was low and rubbed against her still aching female parts. “Sorry.” Sorry? “Did you need something?”
“I’m here to talk to you.”
“Here?” She flew up out of the water and climbed out. “At my place?”
“Yes. On the porch.”
Her mouth flew open with her eyes. God, please say he did not hear anything. She fought to get her bath robe on. “How long have you been here.”
“Couple minutes.”
She swapped ears, eyeing her hair. “Why didn’t you call sooner?” Thank God she’d bathed before relaxing. She quickly worked her fingers through her wet hair.
“I was actually going to leave and come back tomorrow.”
She fought to button the robe, holding the phone between her face and shoulder. “And…”
“And I decided not to.”
Of course. Simple man that he was. “I’m not presentable, it’s the middle of the night. Let me get dressed.”
“No,” he hurried, making her heart pound in her chest. “It’s fine.”
There was a command behind the suggestion, so she nodded with a mild warning, “Suit yourself, Bossman.” Swamp-shit, why was she calling him that?
She regarded her favorite multi-colored patch-quilt robe she’d made herself from all her used towels over the years. She tightened the belt and headed to the living room.
Flipping on the porch light, she opened the door. “Heavens, get in here before the mosquitos carry you off.”
He turned and she held the door open as he entered then shut and locked it. “You want coffee or anything?” she asked, turning to find him taking a seat in the living room on the one rocking chair.
“I’m good.”
She sat on the end of the sofa, opposite him. She remembered the mole issue. “You got a plan to find that mole?” she asked, steering things to non-personal.
“I do.” He lowered his gaze over her before moving it to the table between them. “I might need your assistance if you’re not doing anything.”
“Me? I’m not very technical minded.”
“It’s nothing difficult. Just need extra hands and eyes.”
The idea of working with him had her heart in a hee-haw. “Sure, however I can help. Happy to do my best.”
“We can sleep at my place. I’ll take the couch.”
“Tonight?” she balked, fighting not to show her panic.
“Eveque elevated it to categorysank.”
Geeze, a cat five threat. “I mean…sure. Happy to help.”
He suddenly stood and she did too. “I’ll pack an overnight bag.”
“Take your time. We’ll be pulling a graveyard shift.”
Mercy. An all-nighter with him? “Graveyards are…good. As shifts.” She spun for her room, shame burning her cheeks. Hurrying to her drawers, she dug through them, looking for all her best everything and stuffing them into her homemade floral canvas tote. Should she bring nightwear? She snatched her longest gown and shoved it in then made her way to the bathroom and wrapped her hairbrush and a few toiletries in a towel and stuffed that in too. Shit, she needed to dress. She headed back to the room, eyeing her church dress. Not doing that again. She found a pair of cut-off shorts of a decent length and threw them on along with a white t-shirt and her muck boots. She pulled the hair tie from her wrist and flipped her head over, wrapping her wet mop in it. She glanced at herself in the mirror, finding the floppy tail leaning right. Good enough.
“We need food or anything?” she asked, entering the living room. “I have fresh game.”
