He was tempted to ask if she wanted company in the shower. But he’d already made his intentions crystal clear. The ball was in her court. He had to be patient and see what she’d do with it.
“Through that door.” He pointed. “Bathroom is on your left. There are clean boxer briefs and T-shirts in the dresser. But if you really feel like doing me a solid, you’ll put those jeans back on once you’re out of the shower. I really,reallyenjoy the sight of you in those jeans.”
“I might not have a choice.” She curled her lip. “I think my sweat and the dust from the road have formed a paste. They could be permanently affixed.” She scrunched up her nose and widened her eyes. “Has anyone ever died from being stuck inside a pair of jeans?”
“Oh, I could help you peel them off. Believe me.”
“You’re relentless,” she accused.
“When I see something I want?” He nodded. “Absolutely.”
She slanted him a look from beneath her lashes. “Sam said you don’t let anyone in here.”
He narrowed his eyes at the swift change of subject. “It’s not a hard and fast rule. It’s more of a loose guideline.”
“Well, I’m honored you brought me here.”
“It’s not a big deal.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wanted to suck them back in. It was the first—andonly—lie he’d ever told her.
“It is to me,” she insisted. “How long have you had the cabin?”
“Almost three years. I bought not too long after I signed on with Black Knights Inc.” When he read curiosity in her expression, he asked, “What?”
She looked a little sheepish, but that didn’t stop her from asking, “Am I your first house guest?”
“Are you asking if I’ve had other women here?”
“Have you?”
“No, Grace. Besides Dale’s wife, Sissy, you’re the only woman to step through that door since the day I bought it.”
“Good.” She grinned and turned toward the bedroom. She stopped in the doorway and tossed back over her shoulder, “I like the thought of being the one to help you christen it.”
Before he could stop himself, he’d taken a predatory step in her direction.
“Ah!” She lifted a finger. “I didn’t mean right now!”
“When?” Was that his voice? It sounded more like the growl of an animal.
“After I get cleaned up. And after you make me a sandwich. Because you’re right. Iamhungry. And if the look on your face is anything to go by”—she pointed to what he knew must be an expression of pure, unfiltered lust—“I’m going to need my strength.”
“Or you could just lie back and let me do all the work.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
He took another step in her direction. “Let me show you.”
She squealed and slammed the bedroom door behind her. “Shower first. Sandwich second. Sex third!” she called through the solid wood. “That’s the order of operations!”
Unbeknownst to him, his legs had carried him across the room. He placed his palm flat on the door so he wouldn’t wrench it open and show her exactly what he thought of her order of operations.
If he forced his way into the bedroom, she’d succumb to his charms. He knew she would. The fire in her eyes when she’d talked of christening his cabin told him all he needed to know.
But good things come to those who wait,he reminded himself.I’ve already waited three years. What’s thirty more minutes?
It took some effort, and a metric shit-ton of self-control, but he managed to call through the door, “Do you want mayonnaise or mustard on your sandwich?”
Her words were muffled, but he could hear how she deliberately deepened her Southern accent. “Sugar, where I was raised, it’s not a sandwich unless it has mayonnaise.”
