8. Reflection Of Her
REFLECTION OF HER
What the fuck was he thinking letting that slip?
Was it the way she was trying to make light of her situation?
The care she was giving him over a simple minor cut?
Or that she was home alone and didn’t look as if she was all that pleased with the arrangement.
He’d hoped she’d get annoyed. Maybe give him some snarky comment in return.
Instead, her blue eyes turned several shades darker, her cheeks filled with more red than blood from his scratch, and the low and rough question escaped her lips.
“I was joking,” he lied.
A forced laugh shot out. “Yeah, sure. The same.”
She wasn’t good at hiding the truth any more than him.
“I should get out of your way.”
“Wherever you were going, you need to change now. Sorry, but you’ve got dirt on your shorts.”
He looked down to see where her eyes had landed. Right on his thigh was a line of grease. Any closer and he would have thought she was looking at his crotch.
“I was only going to pick up food. I don’t need to be that fancy to get a sub.”
“If you don’t have any plans and you were getting food, let me cook dinner for you as a thank you.”
“I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“You’re not. Just like I didn’t ask you to fix my tire and you did anyway. I mean it. It’s the least I can do.”
“You sure you don’t want to enjoy the night to yourself?”
His eyes moved over the tidy space with a quiet sense of admiration. There were hints of a child. Pictures on the walls, a stuffed rhino waiting on a chair, a toy chest tucked neatly in the corner, a red sippy cup and its lid by the sink.
But the usual chaos that came with a toddler—the scattered toys, the messes, the whirlwind energy—none of it was here. It felt cared for, intentional…a reflection of her.
A woman who controlled not just a room but the surrounding air.
Like she was this situation and telling him she wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
“I’m positive. I didn’t even want to have the night to myself. Be a sport and keep me company.”
It was hard to say no when maybe he wasn’t so sure he wanted to sit by himself tonight either.
He just had to remind himself all the reasons he shouldn’t be here and hope he could stay strong to follow through on them.
“Do you mind if I run home and change first? Not sure this grease will come out if it stays on too long.”
“Bring them back. I’m a laundry pro. Just ask Margo. I got every stain out of all her clothes. It was like this tradeoff we had. She cooked and I cleaned. Everything. Even her clothes.”
He laughed. “No one has done my laundry since I was eight.”
“Eight! Your mother had you doing your laundry at eight years old?”
“Long story,” he said. He didn’t need to bore her with the depression his mother went through when she had her suspicions of his father’s extracurricular activities. He just didn’t know what that meant at that age.
Only that clothes were backing up in the baskets, dust was building on the counter, and food wasn’t always cooked.
Then one day, it just all changed. His mother found another gear and turned into the perfect wife.
Too bad it never worked the way she wanted, but it kept his father’s eye from wandering for longer stretches, even if his mother exhausted herself trying to please the man.
Yeah, those weren’t the type of things you shared with someone.
Least of all someone who made his blood boil, his hands itch to yank her close, and his mouth ready to land on hers.
Not sharing those thoughts either.
“Long story or not, come back with those shorts. I mean it. I know where you live and I don’t have a child keeping me home. I’ll just show up at your door yelling through it to give me your dirty shorts.”
If he hadn’t caught a hint of sparkle in her eyes, he’d think she was losing it.
But the smile didn’t just tug at her lips, it lit her face right up, forcing him to almost mirror it.
“Wouldn’t want to start any rumors.”
She nodded her head with finality. “Good. Bring them back and I’ll make dinner. Any food allergies I should know of?”
“Now I know you’re a teacher.”
“That’s just me being considerate. I know first aid, but don’t really want to worry about anaphylaxis either.”
“No allergies. I’m not a fussy eater. And I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
He walked out her front door, looked at her tire and shook his head, then got in his SUV and drove the few streets back to his place. Running up the stairs, he changed into another pair of tan shorts and picked the dirty ones off the floor.
As embarrassed as he was to have her cleaning his shorts, the minute he tossed them in the hamper, he knew she’d be over here doing exactly what she threatened, so he grabbed them out and made his way back to her.
Her car wasn’t in the driveway now, telling him she must have put it in the garage, giving him more space to park. Good thing he noted the building and unit that was hers since they all looked the same.
The minute he was climbing out, her front door opened with her hand out for him to put the shorts in it.
“I wasn’t going to bring them.” He dropped them in her hands.
“I know. But I scared you, didn’t I?”
She had no idea how much truth there was to that statement. “You are a little frightening.”
“What can I get you to drink? I don’t have any alcohol. Sorry. I should have told you to bring some.”
“Water is good. I don’t need alcohol. I get enough of it at work. Hope you don’t think it’s something I have every night.”
She shrugged and ran his shorts under the water, then squirted Dawn dish soap on them. Hmm, he had never thought of that and didn’t know why.
Her fingers were rubbing the material together, then rinsing and repeating.
“It’s your choice if you do. It doesn’t really matter what I think, does it?”
“I guess not. Maybe it’s just an assumption people have.”
“I know what that is like,” she murmured, her head down and still scrubbing his shorts. “Help yourself to water in the fridge. This is almost out and then I’ll toss them in the washer.”
“No, really, you don’t have to do that.”
“I’ve got to do a load anyway. It was the plan for my exciting night. They don’t take up that much room.”
It was the steady stare in her eyes that said he wasn’t going to win this argument.
It’d give him a few hours to stay on top of it.
Could she be hoping for that?
Guess he’d find out.
He opened her fridge, snagged a bottle of water for himself and one for her, set it on the counter and watched her giving the final rinse.
“Looks like it’s gone.”
“It is,” she said. “It just takes patience and a little bit of scrubbing.”
“I would have washed them and when it didn’t come out, they would have been another stained article to wear around the house cleaning or fixing shit.”
“I’ve got plenty of those things.”
“So you’re not some laundry miracle worker?”
“Sadly, not as much as I wish. But you’d be surprised how many things Micah can get on his clothes.”
His eyes followed her to the laundry closet off the front door, the same place his was.
The doors pulled open and his shorts went into the washer, the pod followed and the lid went down.
She shut the doors and walked back to him, picked up her water and opened it. “Want to sit on the patio? Or I can start dinner. Not sure how early you eat. I’m used to eating early because Micah is in bed by seven.”
She was bringing her son up so no reason to shy away from it.
“We can sit outside. I eat whenever I’m in the mood.”
“I’ve got a London broil marinating. Not something Micah likes. I figured I might as well enjoy it myself and not worry about him. I cook a few big meals a week and just heat them up on days I work. He’s a good eater for the most part. And I’m rambling and don’t know why.”
“It’s fine.” He took a seat next to her. The sun was in front of the house where it’d been beating on him as he’d changed the tire. Back here there was more shade, or at least where the seats were.
“I don’t have a lot of adult conversations. Maybe that is why I enjoy working at Fierce so much. It’s a nice change of pace.”
“I would have figured that you’d talk with other teachers at work.”
“Oh, I do. But most times it’s talking about kids.”
“I can see where you need a change. Okay, why did Micah go to your parents’ if you’re just going to sit home and eat a big steak alone?”
She laughed. “I didn’t want him to, but they asked. It’s healthy for him to be away from me. I know that. And if I want to go out and do something, he should be comfortable staying with them. So once every other month, he spends the night.”
“And Micah’s father doesn’t see him? Or you can tell me to mind my own business.”
“He’s not in the picture,” she said.
Which was the polite way of saying don’t ask again.
At least it told him she wasn’t only single, but there’d be no ex causing drama either.
Maybe that was one box that got unchecked in the reasons not to get involved.
There he was, not listening to himself like he knew would happen.