My teeth start to chatter. This is when I realize I’m soaking wet, because I ran out of the house into the rain without a coat on. Or shoes, for that matter.
Or underwear.
I cross my arms over my chest in an attempt to hide my breasts under the thin T-shirt I’m wearing. “I t-thought s-someone broke into my h-house.”
His dark brows pull together. “So you came here?”
I’m a moron. I’m the stupidest person to ever walk the face of the earth. For the safety of the rest of humanity, I should be locked away in a government-operated facility for the rest of time.
He must see the distress on my face, because he says gently, “That wasn’t a reproach.”
I make a mental note that this hot roofer has a good vocabulary, but get distracted when he adds, “You’re wet.”
His gaze moves slowly down my body, taking in my soaked clothing and my bare feet. It travels back up again, getting snagged on my lips before finally settling on my eyes.
His voice husky, he says, “Let’s get you warm. Then you can tell me what happened.”
He leads me inside by the elbow, sits me down at his kitchen table, and disappears into another room. For a towel, I suppose, though he could be calling the cops to tell them to pick up the crazy lady who just showed up soaking wet on his doorstep in the middle of the night.
Shivering, I look around.
His place is small but tidy. The kitchen and living room are next to each other in an open-concept design. The space is visually separated by a set of open bookcases, with a sofa and chairs on the other side along with the TV and a coffee table. Down the hallway where he disappeared must be the bedrooms.
I’m surprised how clean and neat it is, considering a bachelor lives here. There aren’t even any dirty dishes in the sink.
He returns with a fluffy white towel in his hands and commands, “Stand up.”
Though I usually get grouchy when someone barks orders at me, I obey without protesting. He wraps the towel around my back and shoulders and starts to rub my arms with it.
Without looking at my face, he says, “Don’t be embarrassed.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re not the wet idiot standing in a stranger’s kitchen at one o’clock in the morning.”
“I’m not a stranger, remember? And you’re not an idiot.”
He seems irritated that I called myself that. Or maybe his irritation has to do with my unexpected arrival, which would make a lot more sense. The poor man has to go to work in the morning, and now he’s got a soaking psychopath to deal with.
He pulls the towel up over my head and starts blotting the rain from my hair.
My face flaming, I say miserably, “I think I might be dying of humiliation.”
“You’re not dying of anything. Be quiet and let me do this.”
I close my eyes and stand there wondering how a person would know if they lost their mind. But I force myself to stop thinking about it because the signs of insanity probably include imagining the rain is a burglar and fleeing for help to the home of the roofer you fired and turned down for sex.
In a conversational tone, Aidan says, “We’re gonna have a discussion later about why you chose me to come to when you were scared, but in the meantime, walk me through what happened.”
I’m too chicken to look at him while I talk, so I keep my eyes shut and tell him everything. When I’m done, he says, “You don’t have a security alarm?”
“No.”
“We’ll fix that tomorrow.”
I finally get the courage to look at him. His expression is a nice combination of amusement and concern. Those dark eyes of his are warm, but his brows are still drawn down.
Resisting the urge to reach up and pet his beard, I say, “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean. And you’re still shivering.”
“I can’t help it. I’m freezing.”
He stops rubbing my head with the towel. “I’m gonna say something now. Don’t freak out.”
“You should’ve just said it. Now I have to freak out.”
“You need to change into dry clothes.”
I frown at him. “Why would that freak me out?”
“Because the dry clothes you’re gonna change into are mine.”
We stand a foot apart, me shivering with cold, him smoldering with heat, until I say, “I doubt you have anything that would fit me.”
He smiles. “Look at you, not freaking out at all.”
“Oh, I am. But I’ve done enough weird things for one night, so I’m keeping it on the inside.”