by Bonnie Dee
“I’d pay of course,” he added hastily. “And I don’t mean every day. And if it makes you uncomfortable or whatever, I have friends. And there’s the Y.”
She’d just had that thought of him naked in her brain and now in her shower. This was not helping.
“Sure,” she said too cheerfully. She was about to say he could use the shower when she was downstairs working, but she wasn’t ready to leave him alone in her apartment. Not because he was an ex-con, she reminded herself. She just liked her privacy.
“That’s fine,” she said firmly. “Want to take one now?”
His eyes widened a little, as if she startled him. “That’s okay. Thanks. But I’m not ready.”
What did you have to do to get ready for a shower besides take off all your clothes? She managed to stop herself asking that question and instead asked, “What do you need?”
He pushed a hand through his hair. “Towel,” he muttered.
“That’s it? You could borrow one of mine.”
“You’re already doing more than enough.” He glared at the floorboards as if they were arguing with him.
“A towel is not going to push me over the edge, Mr. Bailey.”
Something like a smile touched the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, but soap might.”
“You can use a towel, soap and even shampoo. I guess I have to draw the line at conditioner.”
He met her eyes then and seemed to relax when he saw she was grinning back.
“I never use that stuff,” he said. “I guess I’ll stay on the right side of the line.”
“Listen, now’s as good a time as any. Take a shower.” She didn’t mean to sound impatient but she felt unsettled by the intimate feeling of the shared joke.
He backed up, eyes still locked with hers. “I’ll be right back.” He turned and thumped down the stairs.
She waited at the top of the steps, her heart beating fast as she cursed herself. Joann had given her a pamphlet to read about the cons and mind games criminals might play with those in authority over them. But even as Joann had handed over the advisory booklet called Avoiding Offender Manipulation, she’d said she was pretty certain Luke was a good man—with emphasis on the pretty, as in she’d been fooled before.
“But guys who’ve never been incarcerated can fool you, too,” Joann had cheerfully added. “There are manipulative bastards everywhere.”
Mary wasn’t sure what bugged her more—that Luke was already encroaching on her space or that she was frightened by the thought. Frightened and excited. That excitement was the scariest part.
Don’t be a fool, her father would say about now. You know you’re a sucker for a sad story. These people—if you give them an inch, they’ll take a dozen miles.
No doubt her mother would notice Mr. Bailey’s dark eyes and thick lashes. He’s using your bathroom now. Next he’ll be eating your food and asking to borrow money, then…God knows what else.
It’s just a shower, she told the invisible presence of her parents. Once a week he’d take a shower and, anyway, he’d be gone soon. She’d find him another place to live.
Soon.
