I finished up my business and washed my hands before yanking open the door.
A rumpled, bed-headed Chase stood just outside the door, a dazed look on his face and a hand, half-raised as he squinted against the harsh bathroom light. He wore a pair of basketball shorts with no shirt and I felt annoyed at the sight of his relaxed, comfortable clothing. Or lack thereof. As his eyes adjusted to the light, my skin prickled while his gaze slid over me. Shoot. I didn’t care about Chase at all, but if I were married, I wouldn’t even show my husband this underwear. I’d burn it. They were not for public viewing. My right hand shot out as my fingers fumbled along the bathroom wall. Two bottles clanged to the floor in my desperate search for the light switch. Finally, the light switched off.
I could feel the heat from his body as we stood facing each other.
“Well, thanks for at least putting on some shorts, Blister.”
“Shut up.”
“Or should I say, Grandma.”
“Shut up,” I said again, as I brushed past him, not able to resist jamming my shoulder into his as I turned toward my room.
I slammed my door to the sound of him chuckling.
Chapter 5
When I walked into the living room the next morning, prepared to ignore Chase for the entire day, I stopped in my tracks. Scattered across the couches and the backs of chairs were clothes. Men’s clothes. My eyes alighted first on a pair of gray sweats. They would be too big for me, but they looked like heaven. I forced my eyes to keep moving. A week’s worth of t-shirts, a couple of long-sleeved undershirts, a package of boxer briefs, a hooded sweatshirt, and a pile of men’s crew socks, piled high on a couch cushion. Chase sat relaxing on the lounge chair, watching me.
“Laundry day?”
He smiled. “Possibly.”
My eyes widened. Could he be intending to share some of his clothes? My eyes flicked involuntarily to his sweatpants, looking very under-appreciated. Could it be that Chase Riley had finally grown a compassionate heart?
“It came to my attention last night that you are in need of some clothes, and possibly some new underwear that wasn’t designed in 1945.”
I glared at him. “Let me remind you that I was supposed to be here alone.”
“After what I saw last night, thealonepart doesn’t shock me.” His lazy grin did nothing to stop the sharp blow of daggers suddenly stabbing against my chest at his words.
“She looks like my dog, but not as hot.”
Words. Those stupid, meaningless words from long ago, flew into my thoughts. Dang it. Dang it. I didn’t care about that. Not anymore. Why was this happening? Moisture filled my eyes against my will. I quickly turned my back to Chase, hoping he didn’t notice. I wasn’t quick enough.
“Hey.”
Movement from behind me had me wiping my eyes quickly before he grabbed my shoulder and turned me to face him.
I smiled brightly up at him and said, “I’m fine. Something’s in my… eye.”
“Both of them?”
I couldn’t think of anything to say, so I just wiped at my eyes once more, while Chase stared on, looking miserable. I probably would have laughed if it wasn’t so awkward.
“I shouldn’t have said that, I…” He gazed uneasily at me as he brushed a hand through his hair. “I was just messing with you.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t mean it.” For his part, Chase did look troubled. I just felt stupid for making such a scene. It was ridiculous that the tiniest thing from eighth grade, almost fifteen years ago, had caused such a reaction. Then, as if he couldn’t take the friction in the air between us either, he added, “your granny underwear looked great.”
I smacked him across the chest, both of us now fighting smiles. The tension in the room began to evaporate. Perfect. We could laugh about it. That, I could handle. Concerned, brown, doe eyes staring into mine, was something else entirely. A bridge we definitely hadn’t crossed.
Motioning around the room with my head, I asked, “so do I have to arm wrestle you for these or something?”
“I was thinking we could play for them.”
“Play for them?” My interest level heightened considerably.