“Hers was Frosty. I can handle him. When you get right down to it, he has nothing to do with Christmas.”
“True. So you’re okay with these? I don’t have to wear them. I can borrow your sweats again.”
He studied the images. “I think you should wear them. They look like they’re more comfortable than my sweats and it’s good for me to practice desensitizing myself to red and green.”
“It sounds like you’re trying to give yourself color blindness.”
“Believe it or not, I used to envy people who are color blind. Then I realized that comes with a whole new set of problems.”
“Do traffic lights bother you?”
“No, ma’am. I’ve worked through that.”
“On your own?”
“If you mean did I have counseling, I tried it once. Didn’t care for it.”
She wasn’t surprised. Counseling wouldn’t do much good if he refused to talk about what he’d been through.
He was the exact opposite of her ex, who’d played on her sympathies by detailing all the mistreatment he’d endured. Cole, who’d likely experienced far worse, kept it locked down.
She laid her jammies on the counter. “Then I guess I’ll wear these. If they start bugging you, let me know.”
“I won’t let that happen.”
Yep, he was Iron Man. She picked up a scrunchie to hold back her hair. “Mind if I take a shower?”
“Go right ahead. I’d join you, but I’m not starving this time. So we might end up in bed again and I don’t want to wear out my welcome.”
She laughed. “You think five times in ten hours might be pushing it?”
“I’m just sayin’. I’ve heard tales of newlywed sex that left them in sad shape.”
“Then how about this? Let’s see if we can shower together without ending up in bed.”
“Could be a challenge.”
“Are you up to it?”
“What the fudge. Sure. I’ll turn on the water.” He stepped over to the spacious shower. Instead of a curtain, a glass block partition and a sunken tiled floor kept the water in. He twisted the handle and held his hand under the spray.
“I mean, you did build a suspiciously large shower. I didn’t mention that the first time, but?—”
“I confess I’ve pictured you in it with me.” He moved back and gestured toward the opening. “After you. Adjust it if the temp’s not right.”
She grabbed a washcloth and stepped under the warm spray. Determined to tend to business, she picked up the bar of soap from its holder and lathered up her washcloth. “Come on in. The water’s fine.”
“Glad you approve.”
The minute he ducked inside, she reached out, unable to stop herself from running her hand over his broad chest.
Laughing, he caught her wrist. “This is how we’ll end up in bed. You should probably keep your hands to yourself.”
“You, too. And your mouth.”
He pulled her close and took the sudsy washcloth. “I can’t. You’re too delicious.” He nuzzled the side of her damp neck as he ran the washcloth over her back. “I intend to do a better job washing this time though. This morning I wouldn’t say we were exactly washed.”
“Good enough.”
