Page 12 of Flyboy

Fatima grinned at him over her shoulder. “What do you think now that you have?”

“I think you have an incredible sense of balance and a very strong neck.” Colton followed her out the back door and into a smaller hut.

“You can put that right there in the bin.”

The space looked like an outdoor wash hut. There were lines for hanging with clothespins ready, a large washbasin, and a scrub board.

“Do you do all the washing by hand?”

“I do, but I hire a washing lady to help me. She comes twice a week. It helps feed her family, and it helps keep our sheets clean.”

He lowered the bundle into the bin she indicated and then dipped his head. “You have a wonderfully organized establishment, and the others can’t stop talking about how pretty it is here. Thank you.”

“You leave a good review, then?”

“Of course, and I’ll personally recommend you to others.”

“Muito Obrigada.” Her grin was brilliant, and it lit her whole face.

“In fact, something else I’ve always wanted to know how to do . . .”

“What’s that?”

“Wash my own clothes by hand.”

She started to shake her head, but Colton held up a hand. “Would you deprive one of your guests a very particular request?”

“No, I won’t. But . . .” She shook her head. “Very well then, come, sit here.”

Colton paid close attention while she demonstrated how to use both hands in friction one against the other to rub out every section of the shirt. Then she showed him how it could be swished around in the soapy water, and how to ring out every bit of excess soap before the rinsing process. Then he tried it himself.

Fatima was patient, but he was obviously not nearly as adept as she. By the time they’d washed and rinsed and hung up one shirt to dry, she was probably behind on whatever else she had been planning to do. But she seemed as happy as ever. “And that, my American pilot, is how you wash a shirt.”

“Thank you,Senhora. I will use this knowledge wisely.” He bowed, and she laughed. “Oh, you. Now, go wash up for supper.”

When Colton turned to leave, he almost ran into Ivy. “Whoa. Excuse me.”

“No, I’m sorry, I’m in your way.”

“Been watching long?”

“Oh, well . . .”

“Yes, she’s been there the whole time. I think she likes a man with soap on his hands.” Fatima winked at them both, and Colton laughed.

“Is it true?”

“What?” Ivy’s face was adorably pink.

“Do you like a man with soap on his hands?”

She laughed and turned away. “Generally, yes. I think that is a positive quality.”

“Noted.” He nodded his head.

She paused on the path, looking up into his face. All kinds of questions lingered there, and Colton didn’t want to delve into talking about any of them. Best keep showing her she might be wrong about him before he started trying to win her over into thinking he was right for her. Is that what he wanted? Did he want to . . . date Ivy? He had when he met her. But her obvious dislike of him, her very different approach to life, had almost convinced him that they were completely incompatible.

She walked with him back to the house. “Is it difficult?”

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