Page 66 of The Savior

Liam closed his eyes, aggravated that he needed a pep talk to keep himself in line. But like it or not, the lecture was needed, and the voice of his boot camp instructor barked for him to focus.

He took a deep breath and… glanced at the pile of his dirty clothes. No change of clean clothes.Awesome.

He scowled.If ever was there a screaming example of how distracted he was, then a lack of clean clothes was it. How could he I protect anyone if he couldn’t manage to dress his self?

He considered donning the dirty ones but they were soaked after dripping all over them.

Liam wrapped the towel around his waist and cracked the door. “Hey, Chelsea?”

Nothing.

He stepped into the hallway and called again.

No answer. Again.Where is she?

“Hey.” He slicked water off his hair then walked toward the living room when the front door opened. “Hey—”

“Liam!” Chelsea put a hand over her eyes and spun away. “What are you doing?”

He tried not to laugh. “I was looking for you.”

“You’re naked!”

“You didn’t get a good look then.” He snickered as she continued to cover her eyes while facing away. “I’m more covered than I’d be at the pool.”

“I went to take out the trash.” She waved her arm behind her back. “Go put on your clothes.”

“Clothesare the problem and why I was looking for you.”

“What does that mean?” She stopped waving but didn’t turn.

“Mine are dirty and wet. Do you have something I can throw on?”

She waited, maybe working that over in her mind. “Hang on a second.”

Then she sped down the hall.

He stared and smiled. “I’ll be in the bathroom.”

“Sure,” she called. “Sounds good. Shut the door.”

He chuckled and wandered back to the bathroom.

A minute passed until she knocked. “Incoming.”

He cracked the door, and Chelsea blindly tossed clothing his direction then rushed away. “Thanks.” He picked up the sweats and held them out. They seemed far too large to fit her. “Whose are these?”

“What?”

He pulled on the sweatpants. Not his size, but definitely closer to his than hers. He opened the door. “Whose clothing did you give me?”

“Does it matter?” she called.

“Just curious.” Or something. He pulled the sweatshirt over his head. Was she dating someone? Did these belong to an ex? Liam pulled at the tight sleeves, making his way to the living room and spied her on the couch. “Snug fit.”

Chelsea’s eyebrow arched. “Better than a towel.”

“I appreciate the clothes,” he said. “Even if they’re small.”

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