“Coming right up.”
Once he’d left, I checked that I had everything I needed. Or at least what I’d seen Manning use in the mornings. He returned with a dining chair and sat facing the mirror. Behind him, I clipped a hand towel around his shoulders then tilted his chin back until he was looking upside down at me. “This is my first time,” I said. “How do I do it?”
“I don’t know. Just shave.”
“Do I go with or against the grain?”
“I go against but I never really thought about it.”
I went to stand in front of him. “You do this almost every day. It never occurred to you to make sure to do it right?”
“The hair’s gone each morning, isn’t it?”
With a sigh, I shook my head and filled my palm with shaving cream. I smoothed it over his jaw, careful not to get it in his hairline—or up his nose as I covered his upper lip.
“You’re being way too nice about this whole thing,” he said. “Slap on the cream and slice away.”
“Sit there a few minutes and let the cream soften the hair,” I said, ignoring him. “I’m going to look up how to do this properly.”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“No? Is that how you shave me—slice away?”
He frowned. “Of course not.”
“Then let me do this my way.” I stuck out my tongue and went to our shared office, which had only a desk with a chair, a printer, and some lightweight file cabinets. It was the smallest room in the house and closest to the master—perfect for a nursery—but Manning had set up there temporarily because it let the most light in. I sat at the computer, ran a search on how to shave a man’s face, and returned to the bathroom with one of the articles.
Manning slow-blinked at me. “You printed out directions?”
“I want to do it right. Step one,” I read, “apply cream and let the hair soften.” I gave Manning a told-you-so look in the mirror and scanned the rest of the instructions before swapping them for his razor. “You don’t take care of yourself when I’m gone.”
“Where’s that coming from?”
I stood between his knees, tilted his chin up, and slid the razor down his jaw. “You don’t shave correctly. You’re supposed to go with the grain.”
“I’m a grown man, Lake.”
“Are you? When I’m not here, you don’t eat enough vegetables. You smoke more.”
“Nah.”
“Don’t pretend you don’t. Also, you work from dawn ’til dusk. Maybe it’s time to put an ad in the paper. If you had help around here, you could cut back. And you’d see a real human each day so you’d have to look presentable.” I pulled back to inspect my progress on his right cheek. “I worry you’re lonely up here all by yourself.”
“I am,” he said, running a hand up the outside of my thigh. “That’s no secret.”
“Even after I graduate, I’ll be working long hours. I can’t be here all the time.”
“Lake, I don’t need anything other than what we’ve got. I’m not looking to make more friends or hire someone who’ll be in my business.”
“They’ll be in your shed, working side by side with you. It doesn’t mean you have to give up any control.”
“I do have to give up money, though. I suspect this person’ll want to get paid.”
“The whole idea is that they produce more, and you make more.”
“Doubt that when I’d have to double check their work all day long.”
“That’s called trust. And letting go. And delegation.” I frowned at his purposeful stubbornness. “I know you don’t need a business lesson. I just want you to go easier on yourself.”
His eyes roamed over my face. “You should take your own advice.”
“I can’t.” I tilted his chin back even farther to get to his neck. “In my case, sometimes, we’re talking life or death. I have to be as prepared as possible before I start working with people’s pets.”
“See? We’re each getting established still. It’ll come. Give it time.”
I set down the razor and toweled off the remaining shaving cream. He shut his eyes as I wiped his jaw, then while I raked my fingers through the sides of his hair. If I was going to bring up marriage, this was about as good an opening as I could ask for. My palms got suddenly clammy. He looked so relaxed, probably for the first time since I’d left—and did I really need to pester him about why he’d suddenly dropped the subject? Manning was a deliberate man. Whatever they were, he had his reasons.
“Feels good,” he murmured. “I need you, Lake.” He pulled me between his legs by my hips, his eyes trailing up my stomach and over my breasts in a way that tightened my insides. “I have since you walked in the door.”
“Not yet,” I said.