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“Chris-”
“Cook for me,” he demanded.
She hesitated. “What?”
“Cook for me. That way it’ll even out. You make dinner when you’re not working and Sunday lunch, and I mow the lawn and pay the water and utilities.” She frowned at him. “I really don’t have the time, Hayley. I’m busy all day at the shop and I’m tired when I come home. I know you’re on your feet all day, too, but truth be told you work a few less hours than a I do in a day and it would be nice if I could come home to a hot meal instead of cold pizza or spaghetti I have to make myself.
“I’ll keep the fridge stocked, you make whatever you want. You’re good at this and I am really bad at it. Please. I miss food, Hayley. Actually, that’s not true. You can’t miss what you never had. My mom wasn’t much in the kitchen. Or anyplace else. She took off when I was 10. Then I joined the army and you can imagine what their food is like. The closest I’ve been to real food is restaurants and what Tex dishes out when he’s in the mood.”
“Are you trying to play on my sympathy?” she asked.
“Totally. Is it working?”
“Totally.”
“Thank God,” he replied.
“Dinner,” she repeated. “And Sunday lunch. Yeah, I can do that. Small price to pay for tub time.”
“You can use my tub,” he offered.
“Um-”
“Before you answer…”
*****************************
Shooter opened the door to the master bathroom and turned on the light.
“Holy Shit!” Slick practically shouted as she gawked at the garden tub.
He grinned at her. “Yeah. The people who had the place before me put it in. It’s pretty damn girly but it’s brand new and I’ve been up to my neck in other shit and I just don’t have the time or the inclination to rip it out right now. And the shower, as you can see, is separate so-”
“So I don’t have to scrub out your nasty man-scum to use it!” she finished gleefully.
He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “It’s manly man-scum, woman. It’s not nasty.”
She grabbed his wrist and held up his hand. There was still a bit of grease under his nails. Faint, but visible. “Man-scum. And it’s cute, the whole mechanic thing, but not so much when you’re talking about personal hygiene.”
Shooter stumbled over ‘cute’ but let it go. “I’ll give you the key to my place and you can do whatever it is you need to do.”
She turned to look at him. “You’re not worried I’ll rob you?”
“Nope.”
“What if I go through all your stuff?”
“I don’t have anything to hide and I don’t have that much stuff. But-” he said holding up a finger, “there’s a .44 in the nightstand drawer. Do not touch it unless I’m with you.”
She paled. “I- I was joking. I would never look through your stuff.”
He nodded. “Okay. Well, there’s a baseball bat underneath the couch if you need to unleash your sass on the mailman.”
“Mr. Tibbs? He’s, like, 90!”
“Yeah, but he’s shady. I never liked him. He’s always sticking the former owner’s mail in my box. What is that? He knows they don’t live here.”
“I can’t believe you think I’d hit a 90 year old man with a bat.”
“Better you than me. What do you weigh? 100 pounds? The most you could do is knock some sense into him.”
She moved past him out the bathroom and into the hall. “You’re so weird.”
“I’m not weird! I take the US Postal service very seriously! I’m an American! I didn’t serve three tours to get someone else’s mail!”
“Weirdo.”
“Do not sass me, woman!”
Chapter 16
Several weeks had gone by and the stifling June heat had Hayley in Chris’ bathtub almost every night she cooked dinner for him. He couldn’t have predicted that the sight of her girly soaps and bottles of bubble bath lined up along the edge of his tub would actually make him happy, but it did. The house felt more like a home when it was filled with the smells of whatever recipe Hayley was trying and the sounds of her absent-mindedly humming country songs in the tub. He had to say he really enjoyed having her around. A little too much, unfortunately.
A few times she’d emerged from the bathroom with her hair a little too wet, falling down around her shoulders and dampening her t-shirt. A t-shirt with no bra. And that’s when things had gotten a little more uncomfortable for him. His playful flirting was one thing when they saw each other only sporadically, but brushing up against her in the close quarters of the kitchen every time he wanted to snag a beer from the fridge was starting to wear on him.
She was comfortable around him now. Seemingly oblivious to the air of tension that occasionally appeared. Chris liked having her around, liked having her comfortable, and was pretty sure he’d screw up a good thing if he attempted to act on his growing desires. The last week he’d spent less and less time at home when he knew she’d be there. He’d told her things were busy at work, getting ready for the huge bike rally in Sturgis in two months. Tonight he’d told her not to bother with dinner because he’d be at the garage late. Now he was staring at a stack of invoices on his desk and realizing he’d probably rather be with Hayley, aching dick and all, than trying to sort out a parts order.
