Page 104 of Unexpected Shot
“What?” Beau says, out of breath, as he clearly ran from wherever he was to get to me. “Is everything?—”
His words cut off and he stops blinking.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask, considering I'm the one who frantically called him in here.
He turns away. "You're not wearing any clothes, and I'm trying to be respectful, per your wishes."
I look down and realize I’ve hastily covered myself in a towel—and not a very large one. In my defense, it is my bathroom.And he's the one who installed a shower that was made by futuristic aliens.
"Oh, for the love of God, turn around," I shout, making sure to wrap the towel a little tighter around myself. I cross my arms over my chest and tap my foot as he makes a whole scene about slowly turning around, playing peekabo to make sure I’m covered. "Can you just help me with your damn shower? I didn’t realize I needed an advanced degree in Engineering to operate it.”
I feel my annoyance start to flare as Beau’s smile turns devilish. “Is Shelby LeBlanc asking me for help?”
“Now I'm wishing I didn’t.” I groan and drop my head back. “Can you just show me how to get this thing on?”
“It’s easy,” he says, stepping in front of me. And if I had to bet, I’m going to guess he chose to make sure he touched me in the process. “You just have to turn this lever here, then flip up this switch. Make sure this one is turned to the right. And then pull.”
“In what world do you need to watch a YouTube tutorial to take a shower?”
“I believe you said ‘Thank you, Beau’ in a different language.”
I take in a deep breath. “Thank you, Beau. Now leave so I can shower.”
“You sure you don’t need help with that too? I can?—”
“Out!” I scream, which just makes him laugh. While he’s exiting the room, I take the opportunity to check the water temperature. “Wait! Which one of the eighteen steps do you use to make it hotter?”
Beau turns back to me. “It’s up all the way.”
I snap my head back to him. “You’re kidding me.”
“Nope. See the center dial? When it’s turned to the left, that means it’s the hottest it’ll get.”
I look back to the lever, then back to Beau, check the waterone more time, then nearly drop my barely-there towel out of shock.
“Divorce. Immediately.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. This is torture. What’s the phrase? Irreconcilable differences? Because, if you think this is hot water?—”
“You’re being dramatic,” Beau says, walking over and putting his hand inside. “It’s fine.”
“Fine?Fine? In what world isthatfine?”
“The world where I’d like to not leave the shower with third-degree burns.”
I want to put my hands on my hips, but then I remember if I do that, the towel will fall. Oh! Wait… If I show him my boobs, will I get hot water? It’s a possibly reasonable maneuver, but I don’t know if I want to play that hand not even twenty-four hours into this. No, that feels like a card to save for a special occasion.
“Please, Beau,” I say, opting for the nice route. “I really like my hot showers, and this is…it’s freezing.”
I went with the nice tone because I didn’t think he’d expect it, and it would enhance my chances of getting the desired reaction. Foolish of me to think he didn’t have a trick of his own up his sleeve.
“I seem to remember you not having a problem with the water temperature in Las Vegas,” he says, stepping into my space. “Or did the steam we were making block out the water temperature?”
How dare this man use my own orgasms against me. “Those don’t count because that’s not going to happen here.”
“Exactly,” he says, stepping so close to me that the fabric of my towel is brushing against his chest. “If I have to take cold showers every day, why don’t you?”
