I shouldn’t enjoy the way he looked at me—I didn’t have the heart space for a man larger than life like Lucas Badd.
I smiled at him once more, a little shyly, a little hesitantly, trying to keep my thoughts off my face, and then headed for his bathroom. I closed and locked the door, and then stripped out of my coveralls, turning them inside out as I took them off, to keep the paint on them rather than anywhere else, and then washed the worst of the paint off my hands.
I felt oddly reticent to strip the rest of the way—this wasn’t my bathroom, and Lucas was right outside—I could hear him moving around, humming gruffly under his breath. I knew he couldn’t see me, and that he wouldn’t do anything anyway. But still.
Being naked in the same apartment as him made me feel…odd. Not quite uncomfortable, but…
Gahhh, I don’t know how it made me feel.
A lot of different things.
I swallowed the nerves and stripped out of my clothes, carefully removing my shirt so I didn’t get paint on it.
Eventually, I had my clothing set aside and the water running hot—it took quite a few rounds of scrubbing and rinsing with soap and washcloth, but I got the paint off my skin—getting it out of my hair took a bit more work, and without my organic, hand-crafted shampoo and conditioner my hair felt like straw, but at least it was clean.
Problem was, I couldn’t abide dressing in a steam-clouded bathroom—my clothes would stick to my skin and be all damp and gross. God, no.
Which meant wrapping around myself in the too-small, threadbare towel that was all he had clean under the vanity, opening the bathroom door, and carrying my clothes out of the bathroom.
And enduring both his gaze and my own crazily pounding heart as I paused in the hallway, clad in nothing but a towel.
God, what was this life I’m suddenly living?
And why, oh why was it so damned impossible to stop myself from liking this complicated mess of a man?
5
Lucas
Holy fucking shit on a cracker.
I wasn’t sure my ol’ ticker could take the sight of Olivia Goode in nothing but a damn towel. Her raven’s wing black hair was wet and slicked back away from her beautiful, angular face, leaving her wide dark eyes to pierce and mesmerize me.
The only towel I had clean was a tiny little old thing I couldn’t even get around my waist—on her, it just barely wrapped around her torso under her armpits, and only just barely hung to mid-thigh. Even then, there were teasing, tantalizing gaps between the edges of the towel. She, smartly, had wrapped it around herself so those gaps were at her side rather than in front. But god, lord, help me Jesus—she was so fuckin’ gorgeous. Long, strong, tanned legs, shapely and curvy and toned and damn near endless. Just the teeniest hint of cleavage under the top edge of the towel. Just enough to make me look twice and wish I could see more, and then curse myself for an asshole for wishing it.
She was my friend, and she was helping me. She was a widow, and fairly recently, too. This wasn’t a thing. I wasn’t gettin’ nothing outta this except some company…and a nicely decorated condo—I kept calling it an apartment, but it was actually a condo; I had purchased it once I’d decided I really did have no choice but to move back to Ketchikan after all these years, and my retirement from the manufacturing plant in Oklahoma where I’d worked for forty years was paying for it. The job at the hardware store was just for extra spending cash, to stretch the retirement package out a bit further.
I couldn’t stop looking at Liv, and she seemed frozen, rooted to the floor in the middle of the hallway, her eyes on me. I couldn’t read her expression.
“Don’t look at me like that, Lucas,” she murmured.
“Like what, Liv?”
“Like…” She swallowed hard. “Like I’m something you…”
“Like I can’t take my eyes off you?” I suggested.
She nodded. “Like you’re thinking things I’m not sure I should know about.”
My feet carried me across the living room, into the hallway. I stared down at her, meeting her large, expressive eyes—this close, I could see flecks of gold and streaks and gray and even hints of forest green. She wiped her palms on the front of the towel, licked her lips.
“Sweetheart, you’re standin’ in my hallway, wearing nothin’ but a tiny little towel, dripping wet, lookin’ like temptation on two sexy legs.” I felt a streak of boldness rifle through my veins, and my hand lifted, seemingly by itself, to brush a thick lock of inky black hair behind her ear. “If you can’t imagine what I might be thinkin’, then I ain’t quite sure how you managed to have five kids.”
She bit her lip, tensing all over. “Lucas, I…”
“You what, babe?”
She lifted a shoulder in a tiny, demure, unsure gesture. “I saidshouldn’t, not…can’t.”
