I’m still in just a tank and my little bikini underwear.
“Find anything?” Rush’s voice calls from the other side of the door.
Emma looks at me, her eyes big, as she hugs her blanket close.
I let out a long breath as I cross to the door. Leaving the chain on, I open it a crack. “No. I haven’t.”
He stands on the other side of the door, clearly showered and dressed, his hair neatly styled, his jeans hugging his trim hips, his scowl firmly in place. “Why not?”
“Because,” I haven’t had enough coffee to sugarcoat anything, “I’m still in my pajamas.” I see his gaze move over my face, the bare arm he can see through the crack. The rest of me is tucked behind the door.
“Pants or shorts?” he asks and every part of me heats. It’s an intimate question, and I’ve got way too much exposed skin to not feel embarrassed.
“I just need to feed Emma and then I can look at the documents,” I say and then I close the door.
It’s not like me, but also, he’s doing his best to be irritating. It’s a Saturday morning after my first week of work. I’m just trying to catch my breath.
He knocks again.
“What?”
“I’ll feed Emma if you want to take a shower.”
I blink at the closed door, before I open it again, still leaving the chain in place. “You like kids?”
“No. Not very much.”
My mouth drops open as I stare at him. I’m confused enough that I shift, my left hip and leg coming into view.
His gaze travels down me, his eyes growing dark.
I gasp, pulling myself back behind the door. “Then why would you want to feed Emma?”
“Because…” He lets out a long-irritated breath of air. “I have a very short window with which to find answers and the clock is ticking.”
“I just need to put on pants,” I say. “I’ll be right back.” And then I close the door.
But that doesn’t keep me from hearing him rumble. “You need pants to shower?”
I stop, my eyes bugging out. He can’t be serious.
But I scurry into my bedroom, grabbing sweatpants, that I yank on before I head back out to open the door.
I’m still in a tank and no bra, but I scurry back to the door, pulling off the chain and opening it. “You’re sure this is all right?”
He moves forward, and I automatically step back to allow him to enter. “It’s fine. Where is her breakfast?”
I frown. Emma isn’t super frightened of men, but between my ex and a child’s natural tendency to be more reserved with strangers, I’m not sure this is going to go well. I point to the kitchen.
He turns, his gaze sweeping over my abandoned cup of coffee and the food I’ve already prepped. With a jerk of his chin, he starts for the kitchen.
But instead of going to the bathroom, I follow him.
He stops at the counter, looking down at the strawberries I’d cut into sections and the grapes I’d quartered. “You can take a shower, Ms. Hope. I’m capable of cutting grapes.”
I grimace, my voice dropping to a whisper. “She can mostly feed herself. I just sit with her to make sure she doesn’t choke.”
He lets out another breath, like I’m irritating him. I’ve got my arms around my body, covering my breasts, but I step closer. “She’s a little afraid after what happened with my ex, so the less you talk, probably the better.”
