shower. I’ll be quick, I promise.”
“Don’t rush,” Macropi told her. “This is your home. We’ll wait for you.”
Annette let out a groan they all ignored.
“I’ll hurry. And toss Baby4U. Or at least hide it properly.”
Oz, who’d been hunched over scribbling, suddenly straightened. “Baby for what now?”
Mama rolled right over him. “Sally, go tell the others that supper’s in half an hour,” she said, blotting the girl’s clean hands dry. “Scoot, now.”
As Sally scooted, Oz turned to watch Lila head upstairs.
* * *
“Shit!”
Lila knew it was going to happen; why was she cursed with a half-second of foresight? The bathroom counter was agreeably long—the room was shaped like a lowercase “l”—and her pro tem house guests had spread out their sundries. Macropi had placed a glass jar full of cotton balls beside their toothbrushes, and Lila had knocked it over when she was reaching for the lotion. Stupid.
“Are you okay?” Oz, from the other side of the door. Damn. The guy went through two rooms, up the stairs, and to the end of the hall in the half second between the crash and her yell.
“I’m—”
There was a sharp crack, and the door opened with a crash.
“—fine.” She took in a wild-eyed Oz while tightening her sagging towel. It wasn’t her modesty she was worried about so much as the scarring. “Do you want to sit down? You look like you’re about to stroke out.”
“Don’t.” This as she had taken a tentative half-step toward him, mindful of the glass.
“Oz, I can’t just live in the bathrooooooo—whoa!” Faster than thought, he’d navigated the glass and scooped her into his arms, pivoted, and they were back on glassless carpet. It had been so quick and efficiently graceful, it was almost like a dance. “And again: whoa.”
He’d handled her like she weighed no more than a shoebox, then set her back on her feet while she grabbed his shoulder and clutched her towel—thank goodness it was one of the big ones. “Unnecessary,” she managed, annoyed at how breathless she sounded. “But thanks.”
He hadn’t let go of her waist. “Are you sure you’re okay? No cuts?”
“No cuts, just a case of the stupids. I’ll sweep it up once I get wet. Dry! Once I dry off.”
Oz shook his head, adorably assuming he had any say in who performed Curs(ed) household tasks. “I’ll do it.”
“Don’t be a dope.” He still had her by the waist, so she kept clutching his shoulder. Damned if she was going to be the first one to break off. And she was amazed to realize there was no need to worry about him seeing her scars; his gaze hadn’t ever left her face. “I’m almost positive I know where the broom is.”
“You’re doing too much already,” he murmured. Murmured? Yes. He was practically whispering in her ear. His mouth was…very close. Very close to her mouth, to be perfectly mouth. Frank! “Let us help you with some of the load.”
“Load, sure, uh-huh,” she replied, not really listening because—just as an objective fact—Oz’s mouth was kissing close. If this was a love story, there’d be a passionate embrace right about now, his mouth would slant over hers and she’d grab both shoulders and they’d cling to each other and her towel would artfully slip and it would be passionate and terrific.
“Lila, dear, I’ll call Harriss & Son to come fix the bathroom door. You get dry right now and put some clothes on before you catch pneumonia.” Mama Mac, from the other end of the hall. “I can see your butt!”
But this was a sitcom, so none of those things were going to happen.
“My butt is none of your concern, Macropi!”
There was a short silence, followed by laughter drifting up from the kitchen. Lila had to bite her lip, hard, not to add to it. Focusing on Oz’s abashed expression and reddening face helped. “Why is this my life now?” she asked.
“The main theories are that you’re hospitality personified or that you lost a bet with God,” he replied.
“It’s not the former.”
Oz spread his hands and shrugged. “Then I guess God’s a gambling man.”
Well, yeah. Anybody who ever read a history book knew that.
* * *
Oz made his way blindly down the stairs, trying to get his focus back and hoping he wouldn’t trip and brain himself on the bannister. Damp, warm, freshly shampooed Lila was a goddamned menace. Putting her back down and going downstairs was so anathema to what he wanted, his teeth ached.
“If you’re wondering where the broom is,” Annette