Astrid wasn’t sure what to make of both girls’ mildly sodden appearances. “It takes a lot to scare me off.” She held out the basket. “I thought I’d return Nova’s helmet and leave some yummies my aunt Camellia made.”
“You want to come in?” Halley waved her inside.
“Oh, no.” She shook her head; she didn’t want to push her luck. At the same time, the soapsuds had piqued her curiosity.
“Son of a monkey!” The exclamation was like a gunshot, so loud Astrid winced. It was Charlie. He wasnothappy.
“It’s the washing machine,” Nova whispered in her not-so-whispery voice. “It attacked Charlie. And Halley. And me and Scorpio, too.”
Which would explain the soap bubbles and dripping.
“The door keeps flying open. There’s soap and water all over the laundry room floor.” Halley was trying not to laugh.
She’d been a victim of Rebecca’s temperamental washing machine a time or two and had learned a few tricks to ensure the machine behaved. Apparently, Charlie had not been informed of the broken latch or the need to balance the finicky machine. “Did he put the frog on top of the washer door?”
Both Nova and Halley gave her an odd look.
“Maybe I should come inside.” Astrid grinned, took a deep breath, and walked through the living room and into the kitchen. There was a constant stream of muttering coming from behind the pale blue café doors that separated the laundry room from the kitchen.
She placed the basket on the kitchen table, smiled at the girls—who were following her—and peered over one of the café doors, into the laundry room. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected but finding a red-faced, soaking wet Charlie Driver sprawling across the lid of the machine as it bounced and shook wasn’t it. She shouldn’t have been surprised that his white button-up clung to him like a second skin—a very tight, very see-through second skin. From the looks of it, the washing machine was winninganddumping water all over the tile floor.
Astrid was on the verge of announcing her presence when his hold tightened and the muscles in his arms and back flexed. Charlie was fit. Not big muscles like Dane, but lean and strong all the same. Astrid hadn’t stopped to consider how much was too much in the muscle department before, but seeing Charlie’s impressively carved torso, she decided Charlie’s build was exactly right.
Now that she’d made this unexpected realization, she was having a hard time ignoring the rather insistent fluttering in her stomach. Oh so much fluttering. Which would have been fine, if her brain hadn’t suddenly become a confused and jumbled mess. If she was going to have any sort of productive conversation with this man, being confused and jumbled would not do. Better to steady herself before announcing her presence and defeating the washing machine. Then he’d be in a better mood? Even grateful? Perhaps?
“Close... Just. Stay. Closed.” The frustration in his voice suggested poor Charlie was at his wit’s end.
“Astrid’s here, Charlie.” Nova announced this with great enthusiasm—and volume.
“H-hello.” She waved, stepping back as he let go of the lid and turned to face her. The lid flew back and soapsuds rained down, the spin cycle flinging water everywhere.
Charlie frowned, his hooded eyes narrowing a fraction of an inch. A large pile of iridescent soap bubbles perched atop his head—wiggling in time with his harsh, uneven breathing.
She smiled, refusing to be distracted by the water-soaked shirt glued to Charlie’s chest. “Laundry day?” Apparently, her attempt at a joke wasn’t funny. She cleared her throat.
If he kept making that face, he’d have a permanent crease between his dark brows—making his handsome face perpetually grumpy. An errant spray of water squirted him in the eye, prompting the muscle in his jaw to bulge and setting her into action.
“May I?” She nodded at the washing machine. “Rebecca had a trick for it. She was very good at that—coming up with all sorts of Band-Aids. She didn’t trust anyone to do repairs without charging her an arm and a leg.” Talking, when nervous, was what she did. “And she hated spending money when she didn’t have to. She wouldn’t hear of replacing a perfectly good—albeit temperamental—washing machine. Excuse me.”
Charlie pushed his thick hair from his forehead, his expression going blank as he moved aside. The bubbles on the top of his head shimmied, but remained as they were.
“Lovely.” Astrid stepped into the room, her sandals slipping out from under her, thanks to the soap-bubble-covered floor.
“Careful.” Charlie caught her by the upper arms. His deep brown eyes raked over her face, his scowl worse than ever, all impatience and disapproval.
“She’s just trying to help.” Nova tugged on his pants leg.
This reminder didn’t seem to do a thing for Charlie’s frame of mind. He continued to glare as he held her upright with surprisingly warm hands.
Astrid gripped his strong, solid arms until she’d regained her footing—fully aware that all the touching and staring was only increasing her jumbled-ness. “Thank you.” With a wiggle of each foot, her sandals were off and she let go of Charlie. “There.” She scanned the room, her eyes settling on Rebecca’s washing machine fix. “Found it.” She held her hands up as she stepped past the washing machine and lifted the concrete frog garden sculpture.
“What are you doing?” Charlie sounded just as impatient and disapproving as he looked.
Astrid hefted the frog sculpture, closed the lid and rested the frog on the exact right spot on the lid. “Your laundry.” She brushed off her hands and smiled at him. The machine continued to jiggle, but the machine was no longer shaking the entire house and the lid stayed shut. “Rebecca almost took the frog to the town swap meet. She said it didn’t fit in the garden—she was very particular about her garden. Well, I don’t need to tell you, you know that.” She paused, aware of the man’s ability to remain absolutely still. It was unnerving. “Then the washing machine shifted, along with the foundation, and she said it was meant to be. The frog fixed the machine, without her having to spend money on the foundation or the machine. Easy-peasy.”
Charlie eyed the frog, his jaw clenched tight.
“Does it go anywhere on the lid?” Halley asked, sloshing across the floor to peer at the washing machine.
