I spun around. Mitchell was there, thrusting something at me. “You should be able to make them fit for an hour.”
Clothing, I think. But I was too alarmed to register what they were. Because Mitchell Harrington was naked.
Okay, not fully in his birthday suit. A shadow down low told me he was wearing pants. But he was bare from the very lowest part of his waist up. I tried to fix my eyes on his, but they roved of their own volition, drifting down to the dark hair dusting across only the very top of his sharply defined chest. To his exposed nipples, flat and brown. A man’s nipples were not something I’d ever considered. But seeing his was just so…intimate.
“Thank you,” I said, taking the clothes. Our fingers brushed, making me jump once again.
Mitchell took a step back. “You okay?”
I wanted to snap that yes, I was, and please get out so I can change. But I was very much not okay. Because now that he wasn’t holding anything, and now that he wasn’t standing so close, I could see so much more. Too much. That dark hair narrowed into a T down the center of his trunk, ending in the place where a waistband of some sort should have been. But there was no underwear. Just a thickening of hair behind the open button of his jeans.
“I—” There were rocks in my mouth.
Mitchell looked down.
“Shit,” he quickly did up the button. “I’m sorry. Not used to company.”
Somehow, his not meaning to nearly expose himself made things so much worse. If he’d done it on purpose, I could have slapped him and stormed off. Instead, the image was seared into my brain. “Can I have some privacy, please?” My tone was a bit too tight to pull off appearing unaffected.
“Yeah. Of course. Winona, I?—”
“Just go,” I snapped. Every moment he stayed inflatedmy humiliation. I hugged the dry clothes tight to my still-soaked chest, likely getting them wet too. But I didn’t know what I’d do if he didn’t leave right at this moment. I felt weak. Out of control.
And I didn’t like it.
“You can shower if you want. I think there’s everything you need there.”
Luckily, Mitchell slipped out without another word, the door clicking shut behind him.
I let out a breath, wanting badly to slump onto the floor or the bed. But I couldn’t. I was still wet from saving his stupid, unhinged ass. A flicker of anger came back, burning away the edges of the confusing jumble of feelings and sensations behind my ribcage.
“Asshole!” I said out loud.
I just needed to get through this as quickly as possible. But I was still freezing. I set the pile of clean clothing Mitchell had handed me down, and stripped off my soaked, chlorine-scented shirt. A five-second shower.
Of course, the shower was the fanciest thing I’d seen in my life. The gaudy bathroom at the house Mama and I had moved into with Adam had nothing on the river-pebbled, spa jet unit here.
I tried to be quick, but the jets hit me from everywhere, and the shampoo and soap smelled of eucalyptus and cedar. I relaxed for the first time all night, allowing myself the luxury of enjoying the scented bubbles gliding down my skin for a good few minutes before remembering whose bathroom this was.
I quickly rinsed off, and when I stepped out, pulled an obscenely large and fluffy towel off the prewarmed heated shower rack. I’d need to apologize to Cassandra, who’d put these in the plans for all the bathrooms in the Rolling Hills. It was a pain fitting them into the spaces, but as I wrappedthe soft bath sheet around my body and sighed contentedly, I absolutely got their appeal.
The bedroom was still glowing with lights as I stepped out of the bathroom.
“Anita,” I said, eyes darting to the wall of dark windows. “Lights off.”
The lights vanished, and I was plunged into comforting darkness. “Thank you,” I mumbled. I felt deeply silly when, of course, she didn’t respond.
I walked toward the clothes on the bed, but paused before removing my towel. “Anita?”
“Yes?”
“Are there cameras in this room?”
“There are no cameras in the bedrooms,” Anita said. “However, there is ample security coverage outdoors.”
I still hesitated. “Can…yousee me?” I immediately felt stupid. Then I felt stupid for feeling stupid since she was a robot with no feelings.
“Not in the traditional sense, Winona.”
