Page 47 of Someday You Learn

“Well, hello.” I take both of my wrinkle-free socks and place them on the bed next to my button down shirt, slacks, and tie. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get dressed.”

Hereyes dip down my body before she begins to back out of my room. “Of course. Sorry.”

Heading toward the door to close it, I say, “No problem. I’ll be out there in a few minutes.”

After I dress, style my hair, and clean my glasses, I find Cashlynn sitting on a barstool by the island, scrolling through her phone, and that’s when I finally take a moment to look her.

Her hair is messy—like she hasn’t brushed it yet—and she’s wearing an oversized T-shirt that barely skims the top of her thighs over fitted pajama pants that showcase curves I can’t help but appreciate.

She looks so relaxed and comfortable, but I know what she’s hiding beneath those clothes, and that thought has me snapping out of my perusal and heading over to the coffee machine for my second cup of coffee this morning.

“Are your socks nice and stiff?”

“Ha-ha. Very funny.”

She chuckles as she turns her screen off and leans back in the chair, assessing me. “Why do you iron your socks?”

I shrug. “I’m ironing everything else I’m wearing, so it just makes sense.”

Her eyes widen. “You iron your underwear too?”

“No…”Fuck. Maybe it is weird.

She begins to laugh uncontrollably. “Now I get it.”

“Get what?”

“Why you’re still single.” She stands from the stool, drains the rest of her coffee from her mug, and places it in the sink. I glance at the dishwasher, literally inches from where her mug now sits, and bite back the urge to point it out.

“That isnotwhy I’m still single.”

Sherolls her eyes mockingly. “Okay. But seriously, that’s some serial killer type of behavior.”

“Go check my freezer then,” I say, pointing to the refrigerator behind me. “You won’t find anything suspicious. I like my socks to be neat. Big deal.”

Still chuckling, she pats me on the shoulder. “Okay. Whatever you say. I should probably tell someone, though, just in case I go missing.”

I take a deep breath, trying to remember what my life was like before this woman marched back into it.

Quiet mornings free of judgment—that’s what I enjoyed before Cashlynn accused me of being a murderer.

I pour my coffee into a thermos and head toward the door. “I’ll be home around five-thirty. My late shifts are later in the week. Willow’s phone number is on the fridge. Give her a call, if you need her.”

“Thank you.”

With my hand on the knob, I ask, “Do you have plans today?”

I shouldn’t care what she’s up to. I’m not her fucking babysitter, but part of me wants to know. I try not to read too much into that.

“Just some phone calls. I’ll probably go visit my dad, too.” Before I can turn around, I feel her behind me as she places her hand on my shoulder. I spin to face her, her eyes assessing me as I look down at her. “Do you think Friday night would be okay for us to have dinner with him?”

I take a minute to think about if I have any plans, but I’m not sure why. Most of my Friday nights consist of me flipping through Netflix trying to find something to watch, or watching reruns ofFriendsuntil I can’t keep my eyes open anymore. “That works for me.”

She reaches up and straightens my tie, the soft brush of her knuckles against my chest sending a pulse of heat through me. “Okay. Friday it is.”

MyAdam’s apple bobs as I swallow roughly. Cashlynn’s hands are still on my chest, smoothing my shirt as her eyes dance across my face. She bites her lip, almost like she’s contemplating something before speaking again. “Have a good day, Parker,” she says in a sultry voice that makes my dick stir.

“Uh, thanks.”

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