Page 57 of Red Flags Only

A look in the mirror has me flinching. Note to self: blushing doesnotlook cute under several layers of potting soil and dirt.

I hurry through a shower, poking Jove’s shirt out of the spray of water before scrubbing myself raw. When I get out, my skin is comparative to a freshly cooked lobster’s, and I feel cleaner than I ever have in my life. That is, until I realize that in my hurry to escape the shirtless man in my house, I forgot to grab clothes foraftermy escape.

Ha.

Cool.

Um…

“Jove!” I yell, twisting the knob to open the door the itsy bitsy-est amount possible.

“Need something?” he asks, footsteps heading toward me quick on my hardwood floors.

“No!” I yelp. “Just. Um. I forgot to grab clothes? So I’m going to need you to not look this direction while I make a run for it to my room.”

A pause, followed by a choked, “You don’t have clothes?”

“Please, Jove. Go to the kitchen? And don’t come out until I tell you it’s all clear?”

“Is this payback?” he asks. “I take my shirt off, and you flounce around the house naked?”

My jaw drops. “I’m not flouncing anywhere! And I have a towel on! And I’m telling you togo awaywhile Iquicklyzip to my room to get clothes on! More than you are doing, by the way, mister doesn’t-have-an-extra-shirt.”

“I’m going to the kitchen,” he groans. “Please do not take your streaking in there.”

Streaking! As if this is fun for me?

“Once I’m dressed, I’m going to strangle you,” I promise. “You obnoxiousboy.”

He makes an unintelligible noise and backs away from the bathroom door. “You keep your hands to yourself, temptress.”

Several moments later he rumbles through the house the news that he is safely tucked away in the kitchen. “Maintaining my dignity!”

I roll my eyes and make a run for it down the hall, slamming my bedroom door behind me, then locking it.

“Safe!” I holler, then book it to my closet. I dress quickly, throwing on the first dress I find and hoping it isn’t the sort to become see-through with my hair dripping water on it.

Thankfully, when I take the time to look at it, I find myself wearing a forest-green cotton midi dress. It matches Jove’s eyes almost perfectly, and is blessedly opaque, even under the torrential downpour coming from my head.

I find a t-shirt to wrap my hair in, solving the water down my neck issue, take a deep breath, and exit my room.

I find Jove still in the kitchen, hands over his eyes which are pointed firmly up.

“I’m completely decent,” I sniff, pointedly not looking at his chest. Or stomach. Or strong, tattooed arms. “Which is more than we can say for you.”

His head falls as his fingers spread, allowing him to take a cautious peek at me.

He groans. “I thought you said you were decent!”

I panic, wondering if the dark green of my dress wasn’t a match for my wet hair after all, but I find nothing scandalous when I look down. I mean, okay, my dress could probably stand to be a little higher cut, but I don’t think it’sthatbad. “What’s wrong with my outfit?” I ask, twisting to check the back. “It seems fine to me.”

“You look utterly radiant! Incandescent! Not fit for human eyes to see!”

I blink.

“Were you always this dramatic? I could’ve sworn you used to be scary.”

“I was never scary,” he comments, ink-covered arms dropping. “Not for you.”

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