our stuff. Tomorrow, Casey would come back, we’d load up the car and we’d be away.
Mustang would be in our rearview mirrors.
Mustang would be a memory.
And so would Gray.
I moved directly to the bag Gray left sitting on top of the bed and did just that.
In my nightshirt with my face wash, toothbrush, toothpaste and a hair clip, I shot out the door and moved quickly down the hall, eyes to my feet. I didn’t want to take anymore in. Couldn’t take anymore in.
And you know what stunk?
Looking at my feet, I still saw the carpet runner that ran down the hall, attractively worn and frayed in the middle where feet had trod a million times but near-to new looking at the edge and, beyond, more of that warm, honey-colored wood floor.
Yes, even the floor was warm and welcoming.
Hells bells.
I made it to the end of the hallway, the door to the bathroom slightly closed, light on. I pushed in, stepped in, lifted my head and stopped dead.
Gray, wearing nothing (nothing!) but a pair of light blue cotton, drawstring pajama bottoms, toothbrush in mouth turned to me.
Oh my.
Oh my.
His shoulders were broad. His chest was wide.
And…and…
Did real men actually look like that?
I mean, my brother Casey was relatively fit. He was lean. He did pushups and sit ups a lot. He thought of himself as a ladies’ man and he got enough action, he probably was.
But he didn’t have all those planes and contours. Especially not across his belly.
And he didn’t have those veins running down his arms.
Oh my.
“Big enough to share.” I heard Gray say and my body jolted, my eyes shot from his chest to his face and I saw he had his toothbrush out, foam in his mouth and he’d shifted to the side of the sink.
How on earth could a man have toothbrush foam in his mouth and look just…that… beautiful?
“Ivey?” he called and I blinked but didn’t move. “Dollface, you okay?”
No. I was not.
But I had to pretend to be.
“Just a weird night,” I murmured, trying to decide if it was rude if I said I’d come back and left him to it.
I hadn’t been a guest in someone’s house. Not ever.
What was protocol?
As for me, if someone barged in on me brushing my teeth, I would expect them to slink away.
He kept brushing, eyes on me and kept to his side of the sink. He didn’t seem to have a problem with it and his behavior seemed to be inviting me in.
Maybe it was rude.
Darn.
I moved in and went to the sink.
I put the stuff down on the side of the basin, keeping my body to my side as far from his as I could. I lifted my hands and gathered my hair, twisted it then sunk the clip in to hold it back. I felt it flopping all around the clip but it was away from my face so I could wash it.
I carefully shifted to the front of the sink (thus closer to Gray), bent over the basin and turned it on.
“Jesus, honest to God, I’ve never seen that much hair,” a still with foam in his mouth Gray noted and my neck twisted, my eyes lifting to his face.
“Sorry?”
“You got a lot of hair, darlin’,” he said through the foam.
“Well…yeah.”
He grinned through the foam and my heart skipped a beat because bare-chested, toothpaste foamed, grinning with dimple Gray would make any woman’s heart skip a beat.
I turned back to the water.
Then I made short work of washing my face.
This, I did not want to do.
I did not wear a lot of makeup but at least it was something, a mask, a guard. I needed those.
No one but Casey ever saw the real me.
And now, so would Gray.
I turned off the water, reached for the towel and wiped my face bent over the sink.
“Shift, honey, gotta spit,” Gray muttered and I did my best not to jump out of his way while getting out of his way and succeeded.
He bent at the waist, spit, rinsed, grabbed another towel and wiped.
Okay, good. This was done. It was done. He’d leave.
He opened the medicine cabinet and came out with floss.
Well, it couldn’t be said I didn’t notice that he had great
Mustang would be in our rearview mirrors.
Mustang would be a memory.
And so would Gray.
I moved directly to the bag Gray left sitting on top of the bed and did just that.
In my nightshirt with my face wash, toothbrush, toothpaste and a hair clip, I shot out the door and moved quickly down the hall, eyes to my feet. I didn’t want to take anymore in. Couldn’t take anymore in.
And you know what stunk?
Looking at my feet, I still saw the carpet runner that ran down the hall, attractively worn and frayed in the middle where feet had trod a million times but near-to new looking at the edge and, beyond, more of that warm, honey-colored wood floor.
Yes, even the floor was warm and welcoming.
Hells bells.
I made it to the end of the hallway, the door to the bathroom slightly closed, light on. I pushed in, stepped in, lifted my head and stopped dead.
Gray, wearing nothing (nothing!) but a pair of light blue cotton, drawstring pajama bottoms, toothbrush in mouth turned to me.
Oh my.
Oh my.
His shoulders were broad. His chest was wide.
And…and…
Did real men actually look like that?
I mean, my brother Casey was relatively fit. He was lean. He did pushups and sit ups a lot. He thought of himself as a ladies’ man and he got enough action, he probably was.
But he didn’t have all those planes and contours. Especially not across his belly.
And he didn’t have those veins running down his arms.
Oh my.
“Big enough to share.” I heard Gray say and my body jolted, my eyes shot from his chest to his face and I saw he had his toothbrush out, foam in his mouth and he’d shifted to the side of the sink.
How on earth could a man have toothbrush foam in his mouth and look just…that… beautiful?
“Ivey?” he called and I blinked but didn’t move. “Dollface, you okay?”
No. I was not.
But I had to pretend to be.
“Just a weird night,” I murmured, trying to decide if it was rude if I said I’d come back and left him to it.
I hadn’t been a guest in someone’s house. Not ever.
What was protocol?
As for me, if someone barged in on me brushing my teeth, I would expect them to slink away.
He kept brushing, eyes on me and kept to his side of the sink. He didn’t seem to have a problem with it and his behavior seemed to be inviting me in.
Maybe it was rude.
Darn.
I moved in and went to the sink.
I put the stuff down on the side of the basin, keeping my body to my side as far from his as I could. I lifted my hands and gathered my hair, twisted it then sunk the clip in to hold it back. I felt it flopping all around the clip but it was away from my face so I could wash it.
I carefully shifted to the front of the sink (thus closer to Gray), bent over the basin and turned it on.
“Jesus, honest to God, I’ve never seen that much hair,” a still with foam in his mouth Gray noted and my neck twisted, my eyes lifting to his face.
“Sorry?”
“You got a lot of hair, darlin’,” he said through the foam.
“Well…yeah.”
He grinned through the foam and my heart skipped a beat because bare-chested, toothpaste foamed, grinning with dimple Gray would make any woman’s heart skip a beat.
I turned back to the water.
Then I made short work of washing my face.
This, I did not want to do.
I did not wear a lot of makeup but at least it was something, a mask, a guard. I needed those.
No one but Casey ever saw the real me.
And now, so would Gray.
I turned off the water, reached for the towel and wiped my face bent over the sink.
“Shift, honey, gotta spit,” Gray muttered and I did my best not to jump out of his way while getting out of his way and succeeded.
He bent at the waist, spit, rinsed, grabbed another towel and wiped.
Okay, good. This was done. It was done. He’d leave.
He opened the medicine cabinet and came out with floss.
Well, it couldn’t be said I didn’t notice that he had great
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