Page 29 of Fierce-Baker

If he hadn’t caught a hint of sparkle in her eyes, he’d think she was losing it.

But the smile didn’t just tug at her lips, it lit her face right up, forcing him to almost mirror it.

“Wouldn’t want to start any rumors.”

She nodded her head with finality. “Good. Bring them back and I’ll make dinner. Any food allergies I should know of?”

“Now I know you’re a teacher.”

“That’s just me being considerate. I know first aid, but don’t really want to worry about anaphylaxis either.”

“No allergies. I’m not a fussy eater. And I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

He walked out her front door, looked at her tire and shook his head, then got in his SUV and drove the few streets back to his place. Running up the stairs, he changed into another pair of tan shorts and picked the dirty ones off the floor.

As embarrassed as he was to have her cleaning his shorts, the minute he tossed them in the hamper, he knew she’d be over here doing exactly what she threatened, so he grabbed them out and made his way back to her.

Her car wasn’t in the driveway now, telling him she must have put it in the garage, giving him more space to park. Good thing he noted the building and unit that was hers since they all looked the same.

The minute he was climbing out, her front door opened with her hand out for him to put the shorts in it.

“I wasn’t going to bring them.” He dropped them in her hands.

“I know. But I scared you, didn’t I?”

She had no idea how much truth there was to that statement. “You are a little frightening.”

“What can I get you to drink? I don’t have any alcohol. Sorry. I should have told you to bring some.”

“Water is good. I don’t need alcohol. I get enough of it at work. Hope you don’t think it’s something I have every night.”

She shrugged and ran his shorts under the water, then squirted Dawn dish soap on them. Hmm, he had never thought of that and didn’t know why.

Her fingers were rubbing the material together, then rinsing and repeating.

“It’s your choice if you do. It doesn’t really matter what I think, does it?”

“I guess not. Maybe it’s just an assumption people have.”

“I know what that is like,” she murmured, her head down and still scrubbing his shorts. “Help yourself to water in the fridge. This is almost out and then I’ll toss them in the washer.”

“No, really, you don’t have to do that.”

“I’ve got to do a load anyway. It was the plan for my exciting night. They don’t take up that much room.”

It was the steady stare in her eyes that said he wasn’t going to win this argument.

It’d give him a few hours to stay on top of it.

Could she be hoping for that?

Guess he’d find out.

He opened her fridge, snagged a bottle of water for himself and one for her, set it on the counter and watched her giving the final rinse.

“Looks like it’s gone.”

“It is,” she said. “It just takes patience and a little bit of scrubbing.”