I don’t wait for Kenneth to open the door for me and climb outside, instantly hissing when my bare feet touch the cold asphalt.
Jumping from foot to foot, I rush to the door, not waiting for a special invitation because this girl has no pride left. Sheriff is hot on my heels. He opens the storm door, unlocks the main door, and pushes it inward, gesturing for me to enter.
I might admit I’m super curious to see inside his home. He’s a mystery to me, and this is the place where he can be himself and scratch his balls without any judgment.
Speaking of scratching the jewels—I eye him carefully, remembering all the weird movements he’s made with his legs quite a few times. Did I just agree to come to the house of someone who has crabs? I shudder at the thought but then instantly push it away. I haven’t known Sheriff Benson for a long time, but from what I’ve seen, a man like that would be religious with his hygiene, so there must be a good explanation for that. I’m itching—pun intended—to learn all about it, but today is not the day.
He flips the switch, and the living room illuminates with a soft, warm light. I nearly gasp at the place and at how accurate my predictions turned out to be. The place is pristine. Army pristine. Not a pillow out of place. I’m sure everything is laid in a particular order and a certain angle to each other. Not a cup on the coffee table. Not a ring from a mug. Not a speck of dust anywhere.
Soft, neutral tones bring the room together, eliminating any possibilities for a pop of color or—God forbid—character. The place screams ‘boring,’ which makes sense for the rule-following bore who lives here. Most likely alone.
I send Kenneth a subtle glance, memorizing him in his happy place. No matter how boring it is for me, it sure isn’t as boring for him. He takes off his shoes and places them on the dedicated shelf, then all his gear follows. He removes the holster and puts the gun inside the safe sitting inside the cabinet in the hallway.
I stand by the door on the small welcome rug, moving from foot to foot, not knowing where I should go.
He finally notices my hesitation. “You can go take a shower or something. I’ll get us some food after I take a shower too. It’s been a long day.”
“Sounds good,” I say and look down at my feet. “I don’t want to ruin your floor.”
He follows my eyes and waves me off. “Don’t worry about it. The bathroom is over there,” he points to the corridor, “and the towels should be in the cabinet under the sink.”
“Okay, thanks.” I carefully pad toward the bathroom, trying to leave the least dirt possible. It’s long dried out, but I still try not to leave any chunks behind. I’ll come back and mop the floor as soon as I’m clean.
ChapterEleven
KENNETH
I scrub my face for the thousandth time and wonder how I ended up in this situation in the first place. I just invited a random person to my house, a woman I don’t even like. What made me do that?
Shaking my head as if it can help me get rid of the weirdness of what’s going on, I wash off the soap and turn off the water. I feel a zip in my back as I reach for the towel hanging on the hook.When did I pull it?Fuck, getting old is not fun. I feel like the switch was flipped when I turned thirty-five, and all my family’s jokes might be finally coming true. They say the older I become, the harder it will be to find someone who won’t annoy the hell out of me on a regular basis. I didn’t tell them that I gave up on the idea of becoming a family man and learned how to be happy with my life as a bachelor. I just wish our town would be a bit bigger so there would be space for a bachelor to roam.
Who am I kidding? When was the last time I had an orgasm that wasn’t self-induced? I don’t even remember. After pulling that favor from one of my old college buddies, I had to go and meet up with her. It was like I was selling myself for information. Sexbefore thatwas good, predictable but good, but after that, I just wanted to take a hot shower and scrub the dirt off. It wasn’t the woman. No, it was me—something was wrong withme. I can’t even enjoy sex anymore. I can’t enjoy much of anything in general anymore. The things I used to love bring less and less thrill every day.
I climb out of the shower and head toward the supply closet to get a mop. Dirty floors make me itchy, and I saw chunks falling off Josie when she was carefully padding to the bathroom, trying not to leave any mess—a useless task since she was pretty much caked in dried mud. I myself left some mess when I walked to the bathroom. After the hug she gave me, I was covered in the same brown stuff she was.
But I’d take the dirt and shit and all that any day instead of going through the same fear I felt when I saw that fuckin’ bear coming out of the woods and her small body pressing into her car with nowhere to go. I don’t remember being so scared in my life, and I’ve seen some shitty things. I was sure I’d fucking win if I had to wrestle the bear—so much adrenaline was pumping through my body because of fear, making me indestructible. Fear for this woman.
Trouble, trouble, trouble. I’ve known she was trouble since the moment I saw her sitting in that metal tin with a wide smile on her face, hoping to wiggle her way out of a ticket.
I’m just about to call her name when I’m greeted with the most outrageous view I could have expected. The most delicious.
And fucking painful.
Josie is on her knees, with her ass up in the air, scrubbing the floor. She’s wearing two towels—thank fuck it’s not one, or it’d be too short—one wrapped around her torso and one around her hips like a skirt. But even the fluffiness of the towel doesn’t hide her delicious ass. Quite the opposite. The lower parts of the back of her thighs are visible to my suddenly hungry eyes. Her wet hair hangs over her face like a curtain, hiding her face from view. Her whole body moves forward every time she moves her hands over the messy spot on the floor.
I swallow a dry lump in my throat and move from foot to foot, feeling an uncomfortable zip in the pit of my stomach.
“What are you doing?” I ask gruffly.
She pushes her hands away from the floor but stays on her knees.Fuck me. Blowing a wet, dark lock of hair away from her face, she scrunches her stubby nose.
“I’m cleaning the mess I made.”
“You didn’t have to.” I clear my throat, trying to look anywhere but at her.
She chuckles lightly. “I think I did.” Looking around, she adds, “Your house is very clean, and my feet, well, my whole body was covered in mud. You gave me shelter,” she smiles sheepishly, “so it’s the least I can do.”
“Thanks.” Even to my own ears, I sound grouchy. “Why are you naked?”
