A frown pinched her brow. She stood and hobbled her way inside. When she saw the clothing I’d laid out for her, she closed the door. While she changed, I took the bins to the spot where I usually did laundry and set up everything the way I liked it, grabbing the washboard from where it hung on the outside wall. When I returned to the front of the cabin, the door was closed. I waited.
Five minutes later, Brooke opened the door wearing my sweatpants and T-shirt, everything way too big on her. She shoved a small bundle of clothes at me, her cheeks bright red.
Was she embarrassed about wearing my things? It didn’t bother me.
“Thank you for the toiletries. I’ll pay you back.”
I shook my head. I didn’t need her money.
A second later, she closed the door in my face. She was definitely embarrassed about something. I knocked.
The door opened. Her cheeks were a brighter red now. I gestured inside, and she stepped out of the way to let me in. It wasn’t lost on me that I was acting like a guest in my own home because a woman had invaded it.
Tucking her bundle of clothes under my arm, I grabbed an oven mitt to pick up the water off the stove. Before heading outside, I poured some of it in the tub on the table. When I returned to my laundry set up, I tossed her clothes in the bin with mine. The hot water came next. I drenched everything until it was all mostly covered. There was about a quarter of the water left in the pot and I straightened, staring at it. If I returned to the cabin and put it on the stove, then it would stay warm. But I also wanted to give Brooke space if she needed it.
Debating with myself for a moment, I took the pot back to the cabin. When I opened the door, Brooke had her hair over the tub on the table, splashing water everywhere as she tried to wash it.
I stopped and stared, considering the set up. I’d never thought about how to wash long hair before now. Something better should be figured out for her. Setting the pot on the stove, I retreated, closing the door quietly behind me.
The water in the laundry tub steamed in the cool air. Rolling up my sleeves as far as they would go, I got to work, adding a spot of detergent, then grabbing my first shirt. I scrubbed it against the washboard for a few minutes, dunked it in the water, rung it out, and tossed it in the empty bin. Next came Brooke’s black sequined shirt, then her skirt.
Something fuchsia pink floated in the water. I blinked. It looked like a piece of string. I picked it up with the crook of my finger. A G-string dangled and dripped.
I glanced at the cabin. A flash of movement came and went at the window. This was what she’d been wearing underneath her skirt? She might as well have been wearing dental floss for all it protected. The triangle of fabric connecting the string wasn’t big enough to cover half my palm.
An image of her wearing the thong and nothing else took over my mind. A pure fantasy since I didn’t know what she looked like naked, but my brain was doing its best to imagine it.
A growl began low in my chest. I smothered it a second later. I had no business thinking about anyone being naked, especially a woman who’d been through a lot over the past day. Shaking my head, I sloshed the bit of fabric against the washboard, wrung it out, and tossed it in the bin with the other clothes.
With a renewed sort of energy coursing through me, I made short work of the rest of the laundry. The sheets were always the hardest, and I left them for last. Once everything was done, I dumped the dirty water in the bushes, then scooped up rinse water from the lake. Everything got doused, then wrung out before I repeated the whole process. One at a time, I secured the items to the clothesline that crossed the yard from the cabin to the nearest big tree. Like my solar panels, the line was positioned to get the most out of the southern light.
I paused when I got to the G-string. It really was a bit of nothing. I had no clue how it could be comfortable to wear. That led my mind down the path I’d veered from earlier. Snuffing out the images before my thoughts could derail me, I clipped her underwear to the line between her shirt and her skirt, then moved on to the next item. With the last of the laundry hanging on the line, I dumped the remaining water, hung the washboard on its hook, and headed to the cabin.
Brooke froze when I entered. Her scent slammed into me, making me stop. I’d been around a lot of shifters up until I was twenty, but none of their scents had done what Brooke’s scent was doing to me now. Something I hadn’t felt in a long time curled in my stomach, an urge for contact, a need that I didn’t want to acknowledge.
Underneath her towel-wrapped hair, Brooke’s freshly washed face flamed bright red. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice high and tight. “I wouldn’t have given you my underwear if I’d known you were washing everything by hand. I could have done it. I thought you had a machine hiding somewhere.” She muttered something else under her breath that I didn’t quite catch, but I thought I heard something about her being stupid.
I grunted and set the laundry bins beside the door. I had to go. Her scent was getting to me, and since she’d cleaned herself, it was everywhere. I needed to leave beforeIstarted doing something stupid.
Searching for the person who might be coming after her sounded like the perfect distraction. Without looking at her again, I grabbed my shotgun and closed the door behind me.
8
BROOKE
Thwack.
The sharp sound made me flinch under the covers. I burrowed down, wanting to stay asleep and warm forever, but the cold metal pressing against my throat brought me back to reality. My hand inched its way to my collar.Still there.I’d hoped it had all been a bad dream.
Thwack.
This time, I uncovered my head and opened my eyes at the sound. I was in Kane’s cabin, in his bed. He’d changed the sheets yesterday evening, and his scent didn’t overwhelm me the way it had the morning before. It was there, just not as strong. Even then, it created a tingling sensation in my stomach.
Thwack.
I lifted my head. Morning light filtered in through all the windows. Dropping back on the pillow, I blinked the sleep from my eyes and stared at the log beams above me. What time was it?
Thwack.
