I raise a brow, not buying it at all. “That doesn’t cover your naval, does it?”
“Not when I reach up.”
I gulp, hardening fast. This coming downstairs is turning to shit, and fast.
“Comments?” she asks, hands on hips and completely serious.
“It’s all too fucking hot is my comment,” I then grumble as I get harder.
“Oh,” she suddenly says. “I still have that business shirt of yours. What if I wear it?”
“You have to be kidding.”
“I could even tie it in a Daisy Duke style, so it doesn’t hang like a sack.”
“Do not Daisy Duke my shirt, you crazy vixen, you’ll corrupt it more. Got it?”
“Okay, grumpy!” she says. “Just calm down!”
I stand and put my navy suit jacket back on. I like to dress the same way every day, like Einstein did . It is one less life distraction, and one less decisionto make daily.
Distraction is the enemy of focus. Dressing up also helps my mind focus on business and remain ultra-productive. Not that that would work while she is around and messing with my mind.
As I try to regain my center, I huff, “Just not too fucking hot.” I walk away and toss in, “Understand?”
Reaching the swinging door, I pause to make things clear. “I. Can. Not. Get. Distracted!”
Just before I walk out to get back to my office for ultra focus, the lunatic says, “Look, I’m not hot. This is just me.”
I look back, and her arms are now wide. She is serious. Actually serious.
“And no makeup.”
We stare daggers, and then she walks forward as if confused. I growl, knowing she can hear me. I walk out fast, losing my shit. “Not hot! Not fucking hot!” I yell.
“Then what?” she yells back.
“My business shirt!” I yell louder as I walk up my marble staircase.
“Alright!” she yells loudly. “Got it!”
10
SAMANTHA
Wearing his now-washed and ironed white business shirt feels weird. It is too big but also a little sexy, like wearing your man’s shirt.
I have to go with it.
As I serve him breakfast the next morning, he crosses his legs a few times. I think he is hard and trying to cover himself. He even lays the newspaper over his crotch.
After the fussy grump heads upstairs to work again, I decide to go for another walk.
The storm has passed for now, and I change into my denim mini and other casual clothes.
Deciding to check on my car and the bridge section I had hit, I head out, feeling good. My thigh is getting better, and the weather is looking up again.
I find workers trying to fix the bridge, and we get talking. They are fun, playful, and lighter than the always serious grump.
