I applied deodorant and went back into my childhood bedroom to the dresser where Mom stored my old clothes. As soon as I opened the top drawer, I knew this afternoon was going to be shitshow.
Dread bloomed in my belly as I opened the other two drawers in the dresser and quickly turned into resignation. I grabbed a handful of fabric from the top and middle drawers and slammed them shut.
I was just tugging the tank top down over my torso when there was a light tap on the bedroom door.
Sierra stuck her head in and her eyes widened. She stared, then blinked, then stared some more.
"What?" I asked, lifting my arms in frustration.
"You look like every teenage boy's fantasy," she blurted.
I looked down and saw the way the scooped neck of the tank top emphasized the upper curves of my breasts where the bikini top plumped them up. The teeny bottoms that matched the top were hidden by a pair of tight denim cutoffs leftover from my college days.
Actually, I was kind of impressed I fit into them. The entire reason I'd left them here was because I hadn't been able to button them and breathe at the same time. Maybe working out nearly every day was helping. Yeah, probably not. Most likely it was the fact that I was so busy with the shop that I barely had time to eat.
"It's the same stuff I wore in college," I replied. I couldn't help the defensive edge in my voice.
"Yeah, but you didn't fill it out that way in college," Sierra shot back.
I sighed and went back into the bathroom to grab my wet things, taking a moment to wrap them in the towel I'd used to dry off. "These were the only things in the dresser that remotely fit. Even my bra is completely soaked and there's no way I'm bouncing around the house braless with Brody Murphy and his daughter here."
Sierra studied me and cocked her head. "I'm not sure Brody would mind all that much."
I didn't dignify that with an answer as I slipped by her and went back downstairs. I could hear everyone in the kitchen as I snuck by to the laundry room. I had just enough time to wash and dry my clothes so I could wear them to work later.
Sierra didn't follow me and I was glad. I didn't want to talk about Brody with her. We might not see each other as often as I wanted, but she was still my best friend. She knew me better than anyone and could see straight through my defenses.
I tossed the clothes in the washer, added soap, and closed the lid. I turned to leave the laundry room and gasped when I saw the large man looming behind me.
I stumbled back and fell against the washing machine. Brody moved quickly and steadied me with a hand on my hip.
"Jesus Christ, Brody. You scared me half to death."
"Sorry."
Yeah, he sounded really sorry.
I straightened and leaned my hips back against the washer, which was still filling with water. The noise was so loud I couldn't hear him when he spoke again.
"What?" I asked.
He stepped forward, right in my space. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end at his proximity and I crossed my arms over my chest.
"I'm sorry about Jacks. I appreciate that you didn't fly off the handle with her."
If he'd said something like that to me ten years ago, I would have snapped at him. Now, I just lifted an eyebrow and asked, "What did you expect me to do, scream at her?"
Brody sighed just as the washer finished filling and the cacophony of rushing water faded into the low hum of the agitator. "Not exactly. But I did think you'd be a little more...upset."
I inhaled sharply and released the breath in a slow, steady stream. When I was sure I could speak calmly, I said, "Brody, she's a little girl and it wasn't intentional. Believe it or not, I've had children spill drinks, melted ice cream, and other much more disgusting things on me. I've been puked on, peed on, and on one occasion pooped on, though in the baby's defense it was beyond his control. I would never hold it against a child for accidentally dousing me with tea. If she'd done it on purpose, that would be a different story, but it was obvious that she didn't mean it and she apologized. Now, I only have an hour and a half to eat and spend time with my family before I have to get to the shop and open up for the afternoon, so if you'll excuse me..."
I stepped to the side in an effort to skirt around him, but Brody sidestepped with me. I didn't try to go the other way. I remained still and stared up at him, letting my annoyance show.
"Why do you always assume I think the worst of you?" he asked, frowning at me.
"Because you usually do, Brody. And this is a perfect example of that. Since my freshman year of high school, you've picked at everything I say and do and seem to derive some sick pleasure out of it."
He looked...shocked. "I don't do that. I wouldn't pick on you if I didn't care about you."
