Page 89 of Nothing But It All
She laughs, making her way across the kitchen. “Maybe.”
I hum.
She stands in front of me, peering up into my eyes. I hold my hands up, bent at the elbows, while sudsy water trickles down my forearms.
“How badly do you want to do those dishes?” she asks.
“I don’t know. What are my other options?”
She slides her fingertip around the waistband of my shorts. I suck in a quick breath.
“I’ll tell you what,” I say, licking my bottom lip. “I’m going to wash these dishes the fastest that anyone’s ever washed dishes before.”
She giggles.
“And while I’m doing that, you’re going to go lock every door and window in this cabin,” I say. “The kids can go to Dad’s tonight.”
Her eyes widen. “How fast can you do dishes?”
“We’re about to find out.”
She turns toward the door, and I spring into action at the sink.
Who even am I?
I snort.
A man who’s about to reclaim his wife. That’s who.
CHAPTER TWENTY
LAUREN
Did you lock the doors?” Jack asks, his voice leading him down the hall.
My stomach clenches as I run a toothbrush around my mouth. “Yeah.”
“All of them?” The door closes with a snap. “And the windows?”
“Yeah.” I spit in the sink. “Think we should stick a note on the door to please leave us alone?”
He stands in the doorway, one hand gripping the top of the frame. A smirk that’s as decadent as it is sexy is planted on his lips.My God, this man is something else.
His body is strong—fit. Muscled from days working in the shop. There are scars and marks on his tanned skin from various sports injuries or accidents at work that add an air of strength to his appearance.
A full-body shiver rips down my spine.
It feels like I’m twenty-one again, accompanying Jack to his apartment after our date at the Italian restaurant that was one step more upscale than fast food. It was all our college budgets would allow—Jack’s, mostly, because he wouldn’t let me pay for anything.
After dinner, he asked me back to his place with a twinkle in his eye. I accepted, with three condoms and an emergency toothbrush kit tucked away in my purse.
I rinse my mouth, my hand trembling, then pat my face dry with a towel.
“What’s the matter with you?” he asks cheekily.
I set the towel on the sink. “Nothing.”
“Are you nervous, Mrs. Reed?” he teases.
