“You’re really talented.”
“Thank you.” I swallow back the lump in my throat and shrug. “I’m not really an artsy kinda guy. It’s just a little side project I’ve been fucking around with.”
I don’t know why I’m trying to downplay this, but the intense way Lisa’s studying my face says she’s onto me. That she knows there’s a story here.
But she doesn’t push. “Sometimes,” she says slowly, “those little deviations from the norm have a way of changing the way you look at things. At yourself.”
I nod, not sure I want to get into this. Not sure how to feel at all. Part of me is guarded, but part of me wants to hear what she means.
“It was like that for me and decorating,” she continues. “I thought I just wanted to play with throw pillows and buy expensive furniture with other people’s money, but it turned out I had a knack for design. For determining how things function within a certain space.” She smiles a little sheepishly. “I guess I like when I can surprise myself that way.”
“Yeah. I can see that.” I don’t know why I feel vulnerable and edgy. I shrug and nudge the sculpture with my toe. “It’s been fun, but I’ll probably junk it when I’m done.”
“Don’t!” She says it like I’ve just threatened to toss a puppy off a bridge. “You have to keep it. It’s beautiful. Raw, but full of movement and energy.” She gives me a smile that’s almost shy. “I hope you do more of it.”
Her words leave me feeling awkward and exposed, so I grab her hand and nod toward the far corner of the space. “Come on. Let’s get cleaned up.”
She laughs and lets me pull her toward the corner bathroom. I say a prayer the housecleaning crew has come through sometime in the last month, but even if they haven’t, I know it won’t be pretty.
I’m not wrong.
“Oh,” Lisa says. “This is—quaint.”
“Is quaint another way to say disgusting as hell?”
The space is barely larger than a coat closet, with a sink, a toilet, and a standup shower. It’s clean and fairly new, since I had everything installed six months ago when I doubled my workforce and implemented a program encouraging employees to bike to work. A shower comes in handy for that.
And for post-dog washing hookups. At least that was the hope. Now, I’m not so sure.
“It’s not disgusting,” Lisa says. “It’s just—small.”
A flicker of annoyance fares in my chest, which is stupid. It’s an employee bathroom at a metal shop, not a luxury spa.
But something about the judgment puts me on edge. It’s a painful contrast to the hard-on throbbing in my pants at the sight of Lisa in her damp pink T-shirt. I’m deciding which response to ignore when she turns back to me with nipples clearly visible through the thin cotton. Lust surges through me again as she smiles.
“God, I’m dying to get out of those clothes.”
I swallow hard. “No objection from me.”
“Are we—uh—showering separately, or together?”
I love that she’s unsure. That she didn’t come here with an agenda for some elaborate shower seduction.
“Are you normally one for showering solo or with someone?”
She laughs. “I don’t like to share water. We’ve also never seen each other naked before, so?—”
She trails off, and I realize she’s right. And the flush in her cheeks makes it clear she’s nervous about that.
“Hey,” I say, stepping closer and lowering my voice. “I’ll never push you to do anything sexually that you don’t want to do. Test or no Test.”
“Thank you.” She bites her lip. “I guess I do get a little prudish about nudity. I suppose if I’m being true to The Test, I should work on that?”
She won’t get any objection from me there, but I want this to be her call. I settle for nodding sagely, waiting for her to decide.
The instant she does, there’s a mischievous flicker in her eyes. Then she grabs the hem of her T-shirt and yanks it over her head.
“Guh,” I manage, to stunned to form words as I stand there gawking like a redneck at a tractor pull. I don’t know if I’m more impressed by her pink lace bra, by what’s inside it, or the fact that she had the cojones to bare it all.
