From beyond the thin, pleated plastic panels, she heard the television. He was flipping channels.
The prosaic noise helped mask the incredible awkwardness she felt.
With some bumping of elbows and knees, she succeeded in undressing, only to realize she still needed the towel. She opened the door just enough to stick out her arm. “Can you hand me the towel again?”
A second later, it was pushed into her palm.
“Thank you.” She pulled the door closed again.
She draped her clean shirt and underwear on the wall hook, then turned on the faucet and flipped the lever for the shower, tugging the flowered curtain into place. The tub wasn’t very large, but it still looked inviting. And if Adam weren’t three feet away on the other side of a wall and a vague excuse for a door, she’d use it.
But he was, so she didn’t.
The water quickly turned hot and she got in.
She couldn’t keep from groaning a little as the needling spray rained over her.
Two small bottles sat in the soap niche along with a paper-wrapped bar of soap and a plastic-wrapped disposable razor. Nothing was remotely spa quality, but she didn’t care. She washed her hair, and then, because the water was still running hot and strong, did it again just for the sheer pleasure of it.
At Fresh Pine, the water had always run lukewarm after three minutes.
But aware of Adam still waiting for his turn, she made herself finish.
She dried off while standing in the tub, and since it offered the most real estate in the confined space, she pulled on her clean shirt and underwear there, too.
She rubbed as much water from her hair as the towel would take, then wrapped it around her shoulders before opening the accordion door.
Cooler air immediately accosted her and she clutched the ends of the towel together in front of her as she took the only step needed to leave the cube. “All yours.” She didn’t look at him as she scooted to the foot of the bed and pulled her tote onto her lap once again. “You won’t have any room to turn around in there unless you’re standing in the tub, but the water’s good and hot.”
He made an indecipherable sound and tossed the remote on the bed.
She pressed the towel to her face when she heard the door closing and let out a long, shaking breath.
Then, because she had no idea how long he would take, she rapidly brushed her teeth at the sink and combed her hair. She left the towel once more draped over the edge of the sink.
She couldn’t imagine him wanting to sleep against the wall, so she made the executive decision to take that side of the bed. Chills bumping all over her skin, she flung the quilt toward the wall and left the folded blanket for him, arranged two pillows down the center of the mattress and crawled into the bed.
She’d just arranged the quilt over herself when she heard a loud thump and a louder curse from the shower. “I warned you.” Then she turned on her side to face the wall.
The sheets were cold but the quilt was warm and she yawned so hugely her face felt like it could split. With the TV news accompanying the sound of rushing water, she closed her eyes and snuggled into the pillow.
Staying there had definitely been the right choice.
Chapter Eight
Staying here was the stupidest thing he’d ever done.
Adam eyed the quilt-covered bump lying between a dam of pillows and the wall. Laurel was entirely still, but until he turned down the television and heard the faint rasp of her deep breaths, he wasn’t entirely convinced she was asleep.
He still didn’t know why he’d gone along with her decision to stay here.
It damn sure wasn’t the bargain-basement room rate. He wasn’t rolling in dough but he could swing a few nights in a chain hotel.
Moving as quietly as he could, he pulled his shaving kit from his duffel and brushed his teeth. He left the electric razor inside the leather pack.
Unlike Laurel, who’d packed the entire contents of her closet—meager though that was—he’d left Texas with only one change of clothes.
It occurred to him that Sis might have laundry facilities she let her lodgers use, but he wasn’t going to go back up to the house to ask her. She was already charging too little for the room, even considering its quirkiness. He’d worked in more than a few hotels over the years. He wasn’t sure how she managed to stay in business charging such a low rate.
With Laurel sound asleep, he checked his phone again for new messages. He’d already dealt with Ashley’s texts regarding the problem she was having with one of Provisions’ new suppliers.
Dealing with a simple enough work problem, though, hadn’t done a hell of a lot to keep him distracted from the fact that Laurel had been in the shower. Nude. Flowing water making her limbs slick and—
He grimaced. Pushing away the thought wasn’t easy. How many times had she slipped into their shower after he’d gotten home from his shift at The Yard?
Now, here they were in a room that was smaller than the bedroom had been in that tiny apartment they’d shared.
He’d obviously lost his freaking mind.
If he had any sense at all, he’d sleep on the floor. But after hours of driving, his back couldn’t handle it.
He didn’t have any new messages. He hoped that meant things were more or less stable where Linus was concerned.
He rubbed the back of his neck and turned off the television and the light. The room plunged into unrelieved darkness and he carefully sat on the side of the bed. Every cell in his body was attuned to the woman sleeping on the other side of the pillows.
She didn’t so much as twitch.
He slowly eased himself down.
