Page 72 of Capri

“Hardly,” I mumble, fighting to rein in my frustration.

We enter the small laundry space connected to her bathroom, and my eyes zone in on the random utensils scattered across the floor. “You perform an operation on the thing or something?”

Her hands meet her hips and seeing her in the little overall set she has on is fucking cute. Fitting for her task. “Isn’t it obvious I don’t have a clue what I’m doing? I thought I’d be able to clean the vent with some other things first.”

I cock my head. “Like a spatula and a whisk?” I can’t hold back my laughter.

She giggles. “I realize now how ridiculous that sounds.”

Fuck, her laugh.

The red ball cap on her head says ‘world’s okayest teacher,’ secured over a set of braids. It makes her look so much younger, yet she couldn’t look more beautiful.

“Let daddy show you how it’s done,” I joke and realize right away how sexual that sounded. Capri’s hysterical laughter confirms it.

“Daddy?” She hunches over, holding her stomach. “I can’t breathe. That…was…hilarious.”

I grin, enjoying being the one making her laugh more than I should.

“Oh, sweetheart, there’s still so much you have to learn about me.”

“I can see that.” She giggles, and my chest grows warm.

Before settling myself behind the vent, I turn to her and wink. “We’re gonna be such great friends.”

Capri rolls her eyes before heading toward the door. “I’ll grab some beers.” And she leaves me to it.

* * *

“Sorry,all I have is turkey and wheat bread. Hope that’s okay.”

“Perfectly fine,” I tell her, taking a large bite of my sandwich.

I was able to fix the dryer in a matter of minutes after finding it stuffed with lint and dirt, desperately in need of a good cleaning.

Capri insisted she pay me somehow, someway. Since I’ll never accept her money, I request a meal…with her. I’m desperate to spend time with her and not ashamed to admit it.

Leading to this moment right now: us sharing a dry sandwich and a six-pack of beer on her living room floor.

Best damn sandwich I ever tasted.

“You know we can sit on the couch,” Capri says, picking at her food.

I wave her off. “Come on. You never like to be casual on the floor?”

“Can’t say I do.” She giggles.

“I prefer it sometimes,” I admit. “I’m too damn big to sit comfortably on a couch for short people.”

“You calling me short, Captain?”

“Not with those pretty legs.” Capri smiles and it feels so fucking good to be here with her. Not on vacation, not at work, just here.

I take a sip of my beer and ask her the question I’ve been wondering for the last hour. “So, tell me why your ex left you with nothing? I can’t figure that out.”

Capri fiddles with the cap of her lager before meeting my stare. “I’m not really sure. I didn’t fight it, though. I just wanted out. So, I let him pick what he wanted before I moved out, then came home from work the same day to a U-Haul full of my keepings. I didn’t check what was actually in there until I got here.”

Fucking douche bag.

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