“I won’t judge.”
The prettiest shade of pink painted her cheekbones. “When Daphne asks about our meeting, I can tell her we went back to your place to bang.” She dropped her shoes and hid her face behind her hands.
A smart, beautiful, hard-charging woman who could laugh at goofy jokes?I’m in love.He set her shoes alongside his on the top stair. “Don’t worry. What happens in the RV stays in the RV. Here.” He handed her one of the towels he’d left on the patio table, a habit from childhood summers, when Aunt Marty would scold him for tracking sand into the house.
She wiped the sand from her pretty, bare feet, but it clung around her scarlet-painted toenails and to her jeans, soaked halfway up her thighs.
She scrunched her face and plucked at the damp denim. “I can’t go inside like this. I’ll get sand everywhere.”
“Hang on.” He checked for passersby before reaching for his belt. “Turn around, please.” The last thing he wanted her to see was his goofy patterned boxers. Or the stiffy still tenting them.
“Okaay.” Grinning, she complied. But as he fiddled with the door lock, a musical giggle rang out. “What are you wearing?”
He glanced down. Dinosaurs.
Eyes twinkling with merriment, Hannah giggled into her hand.
“I said no peeking. And they’re a gift from my nephews. Wait here.” He dashed inside, pulled on joggers, and grabbed his bathrobe—another Christmas present, fluffy and two sizes too big.
“For me?” Hannah asked when he went back outside.
He couldn’t resist. “Wrap up in this, then drop your pants.”
She spluttered with laughter. “There you go again with the dirty talk.”
He joined in, unable to hold back a laugh. “You’re gonna have a lot to tell Daphne.” He watched her gyrate and wiggle until her jeans dropped to her ankles. “Unfortunately, I don’t have a dryer here, but I’ll give you something to wear.”
“Something with dinos?” Still giggling, she followed him inside.
He gestured toward the little bathroom. “The shower’s all yours.” Though the thought of showering with Hannah steamed up his brain, he calculated his chances were better served by being a gentleman.
Her gaze darted from his face to the door and back. “Oh, I don’t need to—”
“Listen, beach babe.” He took both hands. “We both know the only way to get rid of all that sand is to shower it off. Besides, you’re shivering.”
She pulled the bathrobe tighter. “You go first. I’ll look over Gus’s notes.”
No point arguing with a woman who looked ready to bolt. “Right. Make yourself comfortable.”
He quickly stripped down and washed his sandy feet and legs, along with everything else, for good measure. Who knew how tonight might end? That thought sent his half-chub pointing skyward again, but it felt creepy to take himself in hand with Hannah so near, so he ended his shower with a bone-jarring blast of cold water.
He ducked into the bedroom for clean clothes—not much to choose from until he made a trip to TC’s only laundromat. Gray sweats and a worn blue Henley would have to do. For Hannah, he selected his best joggers and a pair of thick socks. He found her hunched over Gus’s notebook of chicken-scratch and conspiracy theories.
He set the clothes on the table. “Find anything good?”
She jolted upright, eyes wide. Her cheeks flushed, and her gaze drifted down his body before jerking back up to his face.
“Sorry, I was, uh—this is very interesting.” She tapped the page, then tittered as she examined the socks printed with Sasquatch chugging coffee. “How perfectly Washington State.”
“Yeah, well, now you’ve seen half my Christmas haul: socks, underwear, bathrobe.” He moved to the little propane stove. “How about more tea while we wait for the water to warm up? Or I’ve got some decent coffee.”
“Coffee sounds great.” She bent over the journal again.
When he returned a moment later with two mugs, he caught her holding the joggers to her nose. “Your, uh, laundry stuff smells nice.” Forget pretty pink—her cheeks were flaming red now.
She’s smelling me! That’s gotta be a good sign.
Keep it together, Anagnos.“A little rum in your coffee?”
