Chapter 9 #2
A glance back at her had me dropping the beer on the counter and rushing to her. The sheer terror in her eyes sent my protective instincts rising. It wasn’t unusual for a bear to come wandering onto the porch or for a snake to slide through an open door.
But none of those things were near her, and I halted my frenzied haste and slowed up, seeing her with the clothes hugged to her chest, confusion written in her expression as she chewed her lip.
“Please don’t tell me you don’t know how to do a load of wash.” I rubbed my temple, wondering how I was going to survive the next few days.
“I don’t wash my clothes, and most of what I have is dry-clean only. Everything I have goes into a basket that the maid service takes to have cleaned.”
I gaped at her. “Even your underwear?”
“Well, of course.”
“But you did your wash at school.” And then I remembered having to show her how to use the washer and dryer. Teasing her about how spoiled she was.
“But that was so long ago, and this,” she gestured to the machine, “is so different.”
Technology had changed, and she was right. This wasn’t the twist and push a button kind of machine they had at the university. This was all digital. I took a calming breath and returned to her side.
“Here,” I said, lifting the lid. “Put them in. Usually, you separate whites from darks, but these are all dark.”
I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with a thirty-seven-year-old woman.
She tossed the clothes in, and I pulled a detergent pod from the container and handed it to her. Turning it in front of her, she poked it several times and mumbled, “It’s so squishy.”
My eyes jumped to hers, seeing a spark of playfulness in them. My Olivia. Not the spoiled rich woman who pouted about wearing jeans, but the one who saw beauty in the world and marveled at the small things. Things that were normal for me but had always seemed brand new to her. Like a detergent pod.
I shook my head and opened the drawer, gesturing for her to place it in. She leaned over, studying it, and I could see her mind working it out as she dropped it in.
“Now close it up and shut the lid.” She followed my directions, her hand wavering over the display. I took it, my hand wrapping over hers, and a rush of familiarity battered me. Leading her through the last steps, I stepped back to watch as she rested her hands and stared into the washer.
“Should I leave you here and find something else to do while you marvel at technology?”
She shot me a look, her lips curling into a frown.
“Leave it and come talk to me.” And tell me why you left me with my bloodied heart in my hands.
I heard her feet pattering behind me. Quiet footfalls with pedicured toes and nail polish that matched her fingernails.
She sat at the island, opening her laptop and snatching the paper with the Wi-Fi password on it.
Ink still stained her right hand, and I couldn’t help but shake my head at it, covering my chuckle with a cough.
Her fingers ran over the keyboard, and I studied her as she concentrated.
Seeing the woman she had become. Growing into her beauty.
Her long auburn curls framed a small face with a cute nose and cheeks that had once held a gorgeous flush that I had loved to kiss.
And those freckles, the ones she hid under makeup that stole her natural beauty, had been my favorite thing to kiss… well, almost.
I looked away, hoping the throbbing in my nether region took a detour.
“There,” she said, sitting back.
“There,” I mimicked, closing her laptop.
“Hey, we need to look at numbers and auction sites and…”
She stopped as I stared down at her.
“Come on,” I said, putting my beer down and motioning to the door.
“But the numbers—”
“Can wait.” I didn’t tell her any more as I walked to the door and grabbed my coat. I held it for a moment before I tossed it to her. This time she caught it, her brows scrunched in confusion.
Opening the door, I waited for her to follow, holding it open while she eyed me and stuffed her arms into the coat.
I didn’t know why I kept insisting she wear it.
The weather wasn’t that cold, and her coat was fine, even if it was thin.
There was something deep in my core that crept up and dug its claws into me at the thought of her wearing my clothes.
And she looked so damn adorable in it, especially in jeans.
She stopped by the door and looked at her feet, wiggling her toes.
“Shoot. Stay here.” I jogged past her and through the house, up to her room where she’d tucked her boots in the corner.
Her suitcase was on the bed, and I rummaged through the neatly folded skirts and blouses, cringing when I pulled a sexy black lace bra out.
The matching thong that came out next didn’t help.
Here I was again, putting myself in a position I shouldn’t have been in.
I stuffed the underwear back, cursing myself for imagining her in it, and yelled out the bedroom door. “Don’t you have any socks?”
She’d said no when I had asked her about them earlier, but I’d thought she hadn’t brought them downstairs. Not that she really didn’t have any.
“Socks?”
My eyes hurt they rolled so hard. “Yeah, the things you put on our feet to cover them before they go into the shoes.”
She appeared at the bottom of the stairs, glowering at me. “I know what socks are.”
“Then why don’t you have them in here?”
“Are you going through my things?” Her cheeks turned a gorgeous shade of crimson.
“Just trying to help.” I stepped out and tossed a boot to her.
She yelped and fumbled to catch it, the heel whacking her in the forehead.
“Shit,” I said, hurrying down the stairs.
That glower deepened as she rubbed her head. “The poison would have been an easier way to get rid of me.”