Literal; he’d been literal. Cassidy set aside the cool coffee and joined him in his bedroom, hitching the towel more securely around her as she watched him rummage through his dresser. “I can’t wear your sweatpants again; they’re too big.”
Mac eyed her before pulling out a T-shirt and tossing it onto the dresser next to her. “Seems I’ve been giving you a lot of clothes.”
“I wouldn’t say a lot,” she countered, taking up the T-shirt and walking to the cot where she discarded the towel and pulled the light gray shirt over her head. The hem fell to her upper thighs. Walking would expose regions she wouldn’t want to be shown in public. Tugging at the front of the shirt lifted it in the back to expose a peek of butt cheeks.
“Enough that I might need to start dressing at your place,” he grumbled in a good-natured manner. He pulled out a pair of cotton boxers. “Come here.”
“How do I always forget how bossy you are?”
With a look of puzzlement, he handed over the briefs. “I’m trying to help you. Put these on.”
Cassidy tried not to laugh at his sincerity. There was no way his boxers were going to fit her. His hips were narrow, but they were not her woman’s waist. Even if she were at her normal weight, she still wouldn’t fit into his boxers. But she humored him and slipped them on, raising a brow at him over the extra material at her waist making the elastic ineffective.
“Turn around,” he said, as though she was being difficult on purpose. He wrenched the shirt up and grabbed the waistband. With a couple of determined yanks, he tore the elastic in half, then tied the material together. He slapped her buttocks when he was done, eliciting a startled yelp and a jump from her.
Before she could dance away from him, he grasped her arm and hauled her back, saying into her ear, “Now you owe me a pair of underwear.”
Cassidy twisted and looked at him over her shoulder. “You’re kidding, right? Because you tore mine off me. We’re even, if anything.”
Mac had a look of contemplation as he released her with a “huh.”
Cassidy took advantage of her freedom and returned to the cot, snatching up the towel before any moisture could transfer from it to the bedding. Pushing her hair to one side, she turned. Mac was pulling on a pair of dark boxers, his back to her. She paused, looking over his scars again. She bit her lip to keep from asking him about them.
She had to remind herself that because they’d had sex, they weren’t anything to each other. Neighbors. Neighbors who had sex. Neighbors who had sex and shared a dog. Sort of. She wasn’t allowed tobondon another level with him. This wasn’t a relationship.
Mac glanced over his shoulder at her as though her thoughts were tangible, had reached out and caressed him. She dropped her eyes to the towel in her hand and offered lamely, “I’ll go hang this up.” His perusal followed her as she left the room. She took her time to finger-brush her teeth and finger-comb her hair.
When she returned from the bathroom, he was in the kitchen, dressed in jeans, a short-sleeved Henley, and work boots. He was gathering up the dishes. She didn’t know if she should help. She was starting to feel awkward. This was the first time they’d stuck around each other for any amount of time after sex.
After the first time, they’d fought, and she’d left; the second, she’d fallen asleep, and he’d left.
Leaving was what he expected, she knew, but she couldn’t. Her house wasn’t an option without her keys. She gauged the temperate weather outside as she heard the dishes go into the sink. And then she heard the water running over them. And then… cleaning them? Glancing back at him, she asked dumbly, “You’re washing the dishes?”
“Don’t have a dishwasher.”
“Well…” She took a couple of steps toward him, at a loss.
He studied her over his shoulder. “You in a hurry?”
Color touched her cheeks, but she pointed out, “I thought you would be.”
He reached over and picked up a towel, handing it back to her. “Make yourself useful.”
Cassidy’s mouth dropped open; the nerve! But she huffed out a sigh and stepped forward. Hehadcooked for her; she could assist with the cleanup. Snatching the towel from him, she started drying. It was a simple enough task, but strangely familiar. Intimate; what a couple would do.
Cassidy was careful to keep her eyes down, touching the items handed to her to dry.
Mac turned his head to look over her bizarre outfit and offered again, “I can be in your house in less than ten seconds.”
Cassidy side-eyed him. “Jesus, Mac.”
“If you want to change.” He shrugged off the ease of breaking and entering. “It’s the truth.”
She looked down at the T-shirt doing a pretty decent job of hiding the boxers; one could tell she had bottoms on, at least. “I’m getting my keys and boat and coming straight back. My head still hurts.”
“Hm.”
“What?”