“It really isn’t fair, Fillmore,” she sighed as the washing machine signaled it was done spinning. “How cananyoneactually look like that? And be so nice? I mean… heisnice, right? If someone had mademespill my box of delicious cakes all over myself, I don’t think I could be responsible for what I did next.”
Fillmore yipped happily as she put him down on the floor, opening the washing machine. Henry’s shirt was still a little damp, of course, but it was nothing a few minutes in the tumble dryer wouldn’t fix.
It didn’t help, she supposed, that Henry was justsomuch her type it was ridiculous. She’d always had a bit of a thing for men who werejusta little scruffy – a hint of stubble on their chins, alittle rough around the edges. It wasn’t necessarily bad boys she liked – and personality-wise, Henry seemed about as far from a bad boy as it was possible to get – but for some reason, her head had always been turned by a battered leather jacket and a wicked grin.
Sigh.
“Do you think he’d give me his number if I asked?” Luna said, a little dreamily, as the tumble dryer started up. “I mean, I couldask, right?”
As if on cue, her own phone vibrated in her pocket. Luna grabbed it quickly – it could be her editor, asking for a status update or when he could expect her article outline by… which she was not actually writingorresearching, since she was here, washing the hottest man she’d ever met’s shirt.
But as soon as she looked at the screen, Luna’s heart sank. It wasn’t her editor at all – it was an unknown number, with another one of theweirdmessages she’d been getting over the past couple of weeks or so.
She stared down at this latest one, not even really sure what to make of it:
DO YOU REPENT OF YOUR ACTIONS?it read.I SHALL NOT BE IGNORED!
Luna shook her head. To be honest, if she hadn’t found these messages just thetiniestbit amusing she would have done something about them sooner – but really, she kind of did find them a bit funny. She was sure it was just some prank texts or something, but she supposed she ought to take things more seriously. She had a public profile, however minor it was, and you really couldn’t be too careful. The fact that someone unknown had her phone number was a little worrisome, even if – for the moment, anyway – they were just using it to send vague warnings in archaic language, likeWE SHALL HAVE WORDS WHEN WE NEXT MEET, FOR MEET WE SHALL,andTHEWAGES OF SIN ARE HIGH INDEED! CAN YOU AFFORD TO PAY THEM?
It was really hard to tell how seriously the cops would even take something like this, if she were to even show the texts to them, Luna thought as she scrolled through them. Probably she’d just need to change her number – which was a real pain in the ass, considering how many contacts and sources she’d have to update, and was the other reason she hadn’t quite gotten around to dealing with the issue yet.
Well, so long as it juststaysbizarre text messages, I suppose it’s okay,she thought as she shoved her phone back into her pocket – the number itself only ever showed up asUnknown,so she couldn’t even look it up or block it. The texts just kept coming.
The sound of a jaunty little electronic tune brought her back to the present, and she popped open the dryer door. Henry’s shirt was nice and toasty, in that strangely satisfying fresh-out-the-dryer way, and she had to resist the urge to bury her face in its warmth.
I bet it still smells like him…
She scooped up Fillmore and hurried from the room beforethatparticular thought could go any further down its highly inappropriate track, freshly cleaned shirt tucked safely under her arm and definitely nowhere near her face.
The laundry was located a short way from the main building – which, she had to admit, was probably extremely helpful in terms of reducing noise in the guest rooms – and as she hurried back to the house she had to take a moment to admire the gorgeous greenery that seemed to be surrounding her entirely, from the tiny, delicate white flowers at her feet to the lush wisteria hanging down from overhead.
Winter was barely even over – there were still patches of snow here and there – but already every plant in GirdwoodSprings seemed to be ablaze in a truly astounding display of vibrant color and brilliant greens. She had never seen anything quite like it. Maybe it was something in the air? Or the soil?
Entering the main house, she walked briskly down the corridor before suddenly pulling up short at her door.
What should I do? I can’t just barge in, especially if he’s still in the shower. That would be… terrible. Yeah. Terrible.That’sthe word I want.
In the end, she settled for knocking on her own door and calling out, trying not to feel too silly as she did so.
“Hello? Uh… Henry? It’s me, Luna. Are you decent?”
She cringed at herself, and at the silence that met her.
Maybe he just left through the window rather than have such an awkward conversation. I probably wouldn’t blame him.
She thought of Henry, shirtlessly roaming the forest, hair still wet from the shower, and shivered involuntarily.
Clearing her throat, she tried again.
“I’m just going to come in, okay? But I won’t look. I’ll just put your shirt on the couch and then look at the wall. Promise.”
Still no response.
Okay… here goes nothing, I guess.
She cracked the door open, peeping through the gap with squinted eyes. No sign of movement.
Okay, this was… a little odd. Was he taking a post-shower nap?
