I’m a dad. I can share a bed with an attractive woman for one night and keep my hands to myself. Probably…
That said, she’s beautiful, it’s been years, and I’m not dead yet.
I give it a solidmaybe.
“Should I order us some food?”Good distraction. I pull out my phone, opening the food delivery app. “Looks like we can get tacos, pizza, gyros…”
“Do they have chicken shawarma? I’d like that andhummus.” She walks over to dig in her bag. “I wish I had something better to wear besides this outfit.”
“Hang on.” I lift my duffel from where I left it by the door. “I just came from practice, so I’ve got…” I shove the plastic laundry bag holding my sweaty clothes to the side. “A T-shirt and an extra pair of boxer briefs.”
I hold up the maroon underwear and the oversized white tee.
Her eyes light, and she skips over to where I am. “Are they clean?”
“I wouldn’t offer if they weren’t.”
“They’re perfect. Thanks!” She swipes them out of my hands and disappears into the bathroom.
I order our food and look around the room. There’s no mini-bar or fridge, but at least there’s a very basic coffee pot. I hear the bathroom door open, and when I look up, my stomach dips.
Her hair is still in that long ponytail. My T-shirt and shorts hang loose on her slim body, and her face is washed, no frills.
She’s the best thing I’ve seen in a long time.
I can’t get over how she makes my old T-shirt and boxer briefs look so good. I can’t believe I gave them to her. Now she’s like a walking temptation I’m supposed to share a bed with and not touch.
“Food should be here any minute.” I try to clear my head, looking around the room to assess our options. “We could share the desk… but there’s only one chair. That sofa is really small.”
“We could have a picnic on the floor?” She steps into the bathroom again and comes back with a towel that’s seen better days. “This can be our blanket.”
I take the thin towel from her and spread it over thecarpet. “Here.” Holding out a hand, I help her sit, even if she doesn’t really need it.
I’m about to sit across from her when a sharp knock at the door makes her yelp. She grips my arm, and I step over to look through the peephole.
“Food’s here.”
“Oh my gosh,” she sighs, putting a hand on her chest. “I thought it was Ned with a knife.”
I open the door and grab the paper bag, then I lock us in again, double-checking in case the young manager decides to come back dressed as Mother.
We ordered the same thing, only I got steak instead of chicken. Coke for me, iced tea for Gina, and we’re digging in like it’s our first meal of the day.
All the skating I did this afternoon has me ravenous, and for a few minutes, we quietly wolf down our food. When I finally come up for air, she’s leaning against the bed, touching her lips with a paper napkin.
I straighten, doing the same. “How’d the dog show go?”
“Same as always.” She takes a sip of tea. “I walk around the dogs, lift their ears, check their teeth, check their nuts.”
I almost shoot Coke through my nose. “Their nuts?”
“They have to be fully intact.” She nods, and I glance at her hands, which she holds up, turning side to side. “Don’t worry, I washed them.”
“Who was the winner?”
“An Afghan Borzoi named Some Like it Hot Hazel.” She stabs a piece of chicken, putting it into her mouth. “I’ve worked with Haze before, and she deserved it. She’s absolutely stunning. Long, golden fur like pure silk. A perfect example of the breed.”
She looks up at the window like she’s picturing the dogright now, and I think I wouldn’t mind watching Miss Gina Bradford judge a dog show.
