Whatever.
“You don’t need to change your habits,” I tell him. “If I’m not staying…”
He glances at me again and then grabs a can of shaving cream, not saying whatever it is I know he wants to. I walk in, shaking my head a little before wetting my toothbrush and applying toothpaste. I’m not waiting for him to get done. What kind of mountain man doesn’t just grow a beard?
I recap the toothpaste and toss it down behind the faucet. “You showered after work yesterday,” I mumble, raising the toothbrush for my mouth. “Do you normally take another one in the morning?”
“Only when I get dirty at night, too,” he retorts.
I falter, darting my eyes up to see him rubbing shaving cream over his jaw and neck without missing a beat, because how else would a man get dirty in his own bed at night? I think of the woman with the toned thighs and red lips who just walked out of here.
I blink and start brushing my teeth.
“You did a good job on the stalls yesterday,” he says.
I did?
“The boys have been doing it their whole lives, and they just don’t give a shit. It was nice to see it done how I would do it.”
I nod once but keep my head down as I brush. He’s placating me.
“Do you have a boyfriend, Tiernan?” he asks.
I shoot my eyes up at him. He looks at me, shaving foam covering the lower half of his face as he washes off his hands.
“Back home in L.A.?” he clarifies. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
I spit the toothpaste out, but instead of answering, I go back to brushing.
“Have you had any men?” he asks more bluntly when I don’t respond. “Whatsoever?”
I slow my strokes, my breathing turning shallow. Is he asking if I’ve had sex?
Every inch of my clothing touches my skin, and my blood courses hot through my veins. I squeeze the toothbrush in my hand.
Spitting once more, I rinse out my mouth and finally raise my eyes, looking at him in the mirror. What does he want from me?
“You’re still a girl,” he says, guessing the answer without me telling him, “and you still need some raising.”
I watch him tilt his head back, glide the razor up his neck, against the grain.
“You should stay,” he tells me. “It’s nice having a woman in the house.”
I watch him, trying not to. The smooth, tan skin of his neck revealed with every stroke. The water still clinging to his muscular shoulders and chest. The way the towel hugs the V around his hips, and I blink and cast my eyes away, but I can’t help but steal another glance, because I like looking at it.
The way he and Kaleb may not look alike in the face, but you can totally see they’re related when they’re half-dressed.
Maybe I should tell him about last night. How his son cornered me and tried to screw me on the hood of his car and how maybe this isn’t the safest place for me, after all.
We don’t get along. Noah pushes my bad buttons, and I’m sleeping even worse since I got here.
Maybe I should tell him I’m leaving.
But instead, I pick up the shaving cream, pour some foam into my hand, and start dabbing it on my face as he stops shaving to watch me.
As soon as my cheeks are covered, and I look like Santa, I pick up my toothbrush again to use the handle as a razor.
“You got no idea how to raise girls,” I tell him.
He smirks at me in the mirror. “Want me to make a man out of you then?”
“You can try.” And I hold my toothbrush ready. Maybe he’ll let me do some ‘man’s’ work, then.
He snorts and leans over the sink, and I follow, taking his lead.
Stroke by stroke, I mimic his technique, against the grain up the neck, with the grain down his cheek and jaw, and over the top of the upper lip. We stand side by side, peering into the mirror, and stopping periodically to rinse off our “razors” before continuing.
He catches my eyes and smiles before leading me through the final strokes, but his arm brushing mine makes my heart beat harder as the smell of his clean body fills the bathroom.
When we’re done and only a few smudges of foam remain, he pulls a towel off the rack and cleans off my face, and for a minute, I feel like a kid and want to laugh for some reason.
But when he pulls the towel away, he looks down at me, and my hidden smile sinks to the bottom of my stomach, and so does his. He’s close.
His eyes hold mine, and we stand there, heat filling the room so hot I…
I swallow, seeing his Adam’s apple rise and then fall, too.