Page 43 of Mayhem and Minnie

My thoughts go around in circles as I think of a myriad of reasons as to why she’d be in my kitchen, naked, and gazing at me with an inviting look in her eyes.

I think back to the many times she asked me if I find her irresistible and how she’s repeatedly brought up the fact that I may expect something physical from her. Then there are also her claims to be untouched.

If my mother had a hand in this, then she would have instructed her to say that, thinking it would appeal to my obsessiveness about cleanliness. My mother has been trying to set me up with women for years now—all attempts a failure. But that doesn’t mean she’s given up. Maybe she’s just changed her tactics.

But how would she have known that I’d stop to help her? That in itself is antithetical to my behavior. I don’t help people. I don’t step out of my way to be kind. I certainly wouldn’t risk getting out of the comfort of my warm car to go out into the cold and get involved in something that’s none of my business.

Yet that’s exactly what you did.

I scowl.

This is odd. Something about Minnie is suspicious, but I don’t know what.

Unfortunately, with that suspicion also comes curiosity. And I’ve never been one to leave any stone unturned when my curiosity is piqued.

“What are you doing?” I rasp out.

She blinks. She looks down at the broken plate, then back at me. Two pink dots stain her cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I was hungry, and you didn’t bring the leftovers from the car, so I was trying to find something in the fridge. I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

“You’re naked, Minnie,” I state the obvious since she’s still not making any effort to cover herself.

Her brows furrow.

I gesture to her body.

“You have no clothes on.”

“Oh,” she says as she glances down at her naked body. “I didn’t have any clothes to put on since they were dirty. I did wash them in the shower but…”

“Are you not in the least embarrassed?”

“Why?” She frowns.

“Because you’re naked.”

“You keep saying that.” She scrunches her nose—and it’s too damn cute.

“Because you’re naked!” I throw my arms up in exasperation.

“And? Why is that an issue?” She appears perplexed, which in turn makes me even more confused.

What the hell is happening?

“Do you always walk around naked in strangers’ houses?”

“Well, no,” she answers blankly. “You’re not a stranger.” She gives me a brilliant smile.

I sigh and scrub a hand over my face. This isn’t working.

“Do you walk around naked in other people’s presence?” I rephrase my question.

She shakes her head.

“Then I’d appreciate it if you didn’t do this again. Put on some clothes.”

“But they’re wet,” she answers with a pout. “And I don’t understand why you’re so hung up on my nakedness. It’s a natural state. There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” she chides.

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