11 Whiskey Tango Foxtrot by Heather Long Page A

women like to do to pamper themselves?”
    A shower . She sighed in half-forgotten longing. A shower she didn’t have to rush through and could actually enjoy. She bit her lip. The intensity in his expression should have scared the hell out of her, but it fanned the flames of quiet passion—dying embers she thought extinguished a long time ago.
    “Go for it. We’ll be fine.”
    She hesitated. Did she really trust a stranger with Libby?
    Joe divided his attention between her daughter, the television, and her. Curiously, the lack of staring actually made her feel better. Still….
    “Maybe I should wait.” Hadn’t she already trusted this stranger to be in her home? Trusted him so much she went to sleep. Indecision racked her.
    “Melody, I promise your daughter will be fine when you come out. I’m going to stay right here with her to make sure.” He patted his chair. “Right here. Not going to move an inch away from her. Go take a shower. Spend a few minutes by yourself. Then come back and play cards with me if you won’t go to sleep.”
    The soft encouragement nudged her and she rose. “Thank you.”
    “You’re welcome.”
    She promised herself she would hurry, but she didn’t. She actually let the shower warm up, brushed her teeth, and found something clean and less wrinkled to wear. Peeking back into the living room, she found Joe watching the television, still cradling Libby. He seemed so relaxed and at peace, her heart warmed up further. Tiptoeing back, she closed and locked the bathroom door. Pressing her ear to the cool wood, she listened but could hear nothing more than the television. I can do this. The door is locked. He’s out there. He’s not going to do anything . Her heart thundered, but she stripped. The faster she got into the shower, the faster she could get out. The hot spray hit her body like nirvana.
    The quick shower turned into a thirty-minute spa. She luxuriated in scrubbing her hair, conditioning it, and gave in to the impulse to shave her legs—even if it meant slipping out of the shower wet to find the razors she’d bought and never opened. By the time she re-emerged from the bedroom, she felt like a whole new woman. Wearing sweatpants and an old T-shirt, she padded out barefoot. It wasn’t classy, but it was comfortable.
    Joe glanced at her the moment she walked out and whistled. “Nice.”
    Spinning on the ball of her foot, she showed off her blow-dried hair tumbling down her back, free of the earlier pony tail. She’d actually used a little product to soothe the tangles and frayed ends. She desperately needed a trim.
    “You ready for me to move her yet?”
    “No.” He shook his head. “Crazy as it sounds—it’s darn nice to hold her.”
    “I know, kind of like, no matter how messed up the rest of the world is, holding her makes it okay. Like that one perfect moment you can never seem to attain for yourself, you can give it to her.” It made every sacrifice worth it and every bump in the road smoother. She brushed a hand over Joe’s shoulder. “Thank you, Joe.”
    He tipped his head back. “You already said thank you.”
    “That was for taking care of her.” The urge to press a kiss to his forehead pushed its way to the surface. “This thank you is for taking care of me—a complete stranger.”
    He covered her hand with his and she went still. The weight of his fingers warmed hers. “We’re not strangers. We’re neighbors. And when you’re ready, we’re going to be great friends.”
    She admired his confidence. The corner of her mouth quirked up. “That depends on how good a poker player you are.”
    “I’m sorry, what’s poker?” His dark eyes gleamed with mischief and she groaned.
    “We’ll play for dirty diapers. Winner gets to change them all.”
    He snorted and gave her hand a squeeze. “How about dinners?”
    “Dinners?”
    “Yep. If I win, you go out to eat with me.”
    “And if I win?”
    His teasing took on an almost devilish glint.