With my heart pounding hard, my mouth dry, and my stomach dropping to my toes, I shake my head, wondering how I went from never thinking I’d find someone to having a conversation with a man about having kids one day. “No . . . no, I don’t think I’d like that much.”
“Exactly, and I’m not saying I’ll hire another manager to run the bars at night right now, but I will see if Luke can change up his schedule a little so a couple nights a week I can be here with you.”
“I’d like it if you did that.” My tone is still quiet.
His hands drop from his hips; then his head tips to the side. “You wanna shower with me?” For once, I’m not asleep or half-asleep, so I nod. “Then hurry, baby, or I’m going to be late.”
“You do know you could have just gotten in the shower without me, right?”
“Why on earth would I do that?”
“Because you’re obviously in a hurry.” I roll my eyes as I get out of bed.
“Just move your cute ass.” He slaps my bottom as I walk past him, making me jump.
I turn my head to narrow my eyes on him over my shoulder, but his eyes aren’t on mine. They’re glued to the area where his hand just landed. “Eyes up here, buddy,” I call, and he smirks.
I ignore his look and walk into the bathroom, flipping on the lights, and then go to the shower and turn it on. While the water warms up, we stand side by side brushing our teeth, and when we’re done, we get into the shower together. He places me under the warm water first, tipping my head back to soak my hair, then surprises me by asking for my shampoo. I hand him the bottle, and he squeezes way more than I ever use into his big hand before he thoroughly massages it in with his fingers, rinsing away the suds before asking for my conditioner.
I hand it over and watch as he repeats the same actions as before, and when he’s finished, he moves me out from under the spray and grabs one of my three loofas, a bright-yellow one that has roughened edges to help with exfoliating. I pick up my pink one and dump some of my vanilla bodywash on it, rubbing it into the material and causing it to bubble up while he examines the built-in shelf where all my bodywashes are lined up.
“If you’re trying to figure out which one won’t leave you smelling like cake or flowers, this one will have to do.” I hand him one that smells like peppermint, and he takes it from me, clicking open the lid, then sniffing.
“I need to leave some of my shit down here,” he mutters, making me smile. He squeezes the peppermint wash on his loofa, then scrubs it against his chest before moving it over every perfect inch of his body.
I forget I’m actually supposed to be washing myself as I watch the sudsy water slide down his smooth skin, getting caught here and there between the contours and ridges of his muscles. “Do you work out?” I ask him, slightly dazed as I look up to meet his gaze.
“Yeah, most days I run, and a few days a week I go to the gym,” he answers absently as he places the loofa on its hook. I’ve never seen him work out, so he must do it when I’m at work.
“It shows. You have a great body.”
He drags the piece of material out of my hands, and I look down, noticing I’ve created a lake of bubbles at my feet. “In case you’re wondering, I love your body too, so whatever it is you’re doing, keep that up.”
I can’t help the smile that twitches my lips any more than I can control the slight whimper that escapes as he washes me from my neck down to my toes. When he’s finished with his task and I’m thoroughly clean, he turns me under the water and rinses me off before pulling down on the handle, bringing our shower to an end.
He opens the glass door and steps out, grabbing one of my fluffy dark-pink towels and wrapping it around his hips before nabbing another and shaking it out. He holds it open to me, and I step forward as he swings it around my back, then wraps me up like one would a small child.
“Thanks.”
He smiles, then kisses my forehead, releasing me to take a step back, remove his towel from his waist, and dry off. I don’t watch, because I know if I do I’ll end up going to bed without my hair brushed or my night cream on my face.
“I’ll take LeFou out one last time before I go to work,” he tells me as I begin to pull my brush through my wet hair, and I meet his gaze in the mirror.
“I don’t mind taking him out.”
He shakes his head in denial. “I’ll take him before I go. I’ll also order another one of his potty boxes for your patio, so if he’s here with you, you don’t feel like you have to get dressed to take him out at night. Instead, you can just let him out when he needs to go.”
“Bodywash in my shower and a potty box on my patio. I’m starting to think you’re going to be here a lot.”
“Only until I can get you used to being in my home alone without running away in the middle of the night.”
“Your place doesn’t look like a home. It looks like a showplace. Besides the few photos in your living room giving that space some character, I’d never know someone actually lived there. You don’t even have any art on the walls, and the things you do own are all varying shades of gray and black. The night I ‘ran away,’ as you put it, I felt like I was in a cell and it was closing in around me.” He looks away from me to glance around my bathroom.
I know what he sees without looking—gold wallpaper with a very cool design, vibrant floral face towels hanging above each sink, and two pieces of floral art hanging on the wall. My entire place is decorated much the same, with lots of bright colors here and there bringing life to my space. Since I can remember, I’ve surrounded myself with lots of color, and the way I decorated after I bought my condo is no different. Even the utensils most people never see that are tucked away in the drawers of my kitchen are bright and colorful. I could never live a life surrounded by black and white. I’d probably go crazy if I tried.
“If we need to add some color to my place in order for you to stay there, then we’ll do that,” he says, and I swear my mouth drops open. He studies my face for a moment, then adds, “Just no flowers.”
“You don’t like flowers?” I question with a straight face, even though I really, really want to laugh.
“Babe,” is all he says.
I start to giggle, and he shakes his head before disappearing into my room. After I finish brushing my hair, I tie it up into a ponytail, then apply my night cream and leave the bathroom. I find Gaston without a shirt but with his slacks on, sitting on the side of my bed and putting on his shoes. I walk to my dresser, open my top drawer, and grab the first nightgown my hand lands on.
I remove my towel, tossing it to the end of the bed before pulling the nightgown on over my head. When I feel eyes on me, I look at Gaston, who’s still bent with his fingers around the laces of his shoes but his eyes on me. I ignore his heated gaze, walk across the room, and open the door as I call out to LeFou. I listen to his tags jingle and his nails clicking against the hardwood as he runs full speed from wherever he’s been hanging out since he was locked out an hour ago.
A tiny white blur zooms by me, and since he’s going fast, he can’t stop. He slides across the wood floor, only halting when he hits the carpet and tumbles, making me gasp with worry. Obviously no worse for wear, he quickly finds his feet and bounces excitedly toward me.