because this was over the top, but a bit like this. One with a whole stack of fluffy white towels rolled up on open shelves, a clean towel for every day if you wanted. With walls and floors lined with enormous tiles, meaning almost no grout to scrub. A toilet that only I would use, and a floor that would never, ever give off the ammonia stink of dried urine, because unlike most of male humanity, I didn’t wee on the floor. The whole place would be white, maybe with some pale gray like this, because that was nice, and it would have impossibly clean, uncluttered surfaces and a pink orchid on the windowsill.
So far, I had the orchid.
I realized that I’d drifted off when the door opened. I’d nearly fallen asleep standing here, my arms braced against the walls as the blissful heat filled me. How had I forgotten how urgent this was? I should have been done, dried, and ready to go by now.
It was steamy in here, and I couldn’t see out. I stepped out anyway, because what choice did I have? My heart, though, was pounding in ridiculous fashion, just because if he was out there, he’d see me.
He’d already seen me naked, or near enough. He’d taken my clothes off. What else was there to see, and what did it matter?
It wasn’t him. It was his mum, and she was holding a white towel that I realized was heated, once I wrapped it around myself. Just like the floor, which was making my feet feel lovely and toasty. I did my best to haul on some kind of composure and said, “Thanks. You probably don’t normally get strange women turning up and using your bath in the middle of the night.”
“Oh, I dunno, love,” she said cheerfully. “It can happen, though Gray wouldn’t thank me for telling you so. Clothes are just there. Drink your tea before you go.”
Well, that told me.
Gray
Daisy came downstairs about sixty seconds after Mum did. She hadn’t spent much time on her beauty routine, and her mug of tea still looked full. She hadn’t even dried her hair. The dog trotted forward to greet her, and she gave her a pat. As for me, I’m afraid I laughed.
She tried to scowl at me, but couldn’t keep it up, because it turned into a smile, then a laugh. “Stop it. I didn’t choose them. Also, our new dog’s a girl.”
I tried to compose my face, but it wasn’t easy. I’d found her a long-sleeved tee and a pair of track pants, because they at least had a tie inside the waistband. She’d rolled the legs up and cinched the waist as much as possible, but I could see even under the T-shirt—which reached to her upper thighs—that the waistband was sort of … bulging. She pulled on the fella’s oversized jacket again, found her soaking-wet shoes by the door and put them on without any comment at all, and asked, “Ready?”
I wanted to tell her to stay here. Her face looked strained and tired despite the laugh, and her hair was still wet. Instead, I said, “Ready,” grabbed my jacket and keys, and told Mum, who was making ham sandwiches, for some reason, at three in the morning, “I don’t know when I’ll be back.” I’d explained what had happened, but not much. I’d only had time for a couple sentences, but she’d accepted them with the equanimity she brought to most things.
“Never mind,” she said. “I’ll be here. Ring if you get into trouble.”
I gave the dog one last pat—she was standing at the door as if she was ready and waiting to go out there again, as if, tired or not, she expected to do her job, a bit like Daisy—and said, “Stay here, girl. You can guard Mum, eh.”
When we got to the ute, Daisy held out her hand for the keys and said, “I’ll drive. I know the way.”
“As you don’t have a license anymore,” I said, “I think I will.”
“Oh.” She stood stock-still a minute. “Rethinking here. There goes my hired car for the morning. D’you think you could help me with a motel room, though? Just for the one night—or maybe two, because by the time we get into it, it’ll be morning already. I’ll pay you back,” she hastened to add, when I didn’t answer straight away. “I need to get my brother up here, much as I don’t want to, but I don’t