Page 116 of Hounded
My reaction to that word was almost visceral. The little voice in my head seemed to trill, echoing the term of endearment until it tumbled out of my mouth.
“Doll?” I didn’t bother to mask my idiot grin.
Loren nodded.
“Well,” I began, “I like the idea of a road trip better than a kidnapping. But you need a shower, dude.”
Loren rolled his eyes and finally, just barely, he smiled.
The smile, the pet name, the voice in my head chirpingwith delight, all of it crowded my brain and left no room for reason. I’d been mad, rightfully so, but he was scared. Hurt. And here. I could no longer deny how much I’d missed him.
I brushed his tangled hair aside and put my lips to his cheek, and he blushed. It was the most adorable, butterfly-inducing blush I’d ever seen.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll plan the route, you’ll wash up, then what?”
Once I was seated, he released me. His fingers grazed my knee as he pulled away and said, “Then we’ll talk.”
42
Loren
Soaped, scrubbed, and fresherthan I’d been in days, I emerged from the shower. Indy kept two towels on the rack, one for hair and one for body. I wrapped myself up accordingly, wringing the moisture from my hair and winding the larger sheet around my hips. All that remained was to deal with the stubble peppering my jaw and work the knots out of my hair.
Padding over to the sink counter, I swiped the second towel over the mirror to clear a spot where I could see myself. The scratches on my cheeks, self-inflicted, would fade in time, but I cringed nonetheless at the evidence of my panic. I had enough scars without adding more, especially not such visible ones. With a huff, I searched the counter and drawers for Indy’s razor and shaving cream.
A bit of rooting uncovered them in a haphazard pile of beauty supplies. Shifting things aside, I set down the can and razor, then reached for the faucet when a knock on the door made me jump.
“Yeah?” I called over.
“I brought you some clothes.” Indy’s voice was muffled.
I slid the door aside, letting light pour into the hallway and illuminate Indy’s petite figure. His teal curls were tousled, and deep pink splotched his cheeks. He held a stack of folded clothes.
“From the back of your truck,” he explained. “It’s like Mister Rogers’ wardrobe in there. All sweaters and slacks. Have you got those weird leg suspenders, too?”
“Garters,” I corrected.
Indy’s eyes skated over my bare torso, stopping on the towel knotted around my waist before moving rapidly upward. “What?”
“Sock garters,” I said. “And not for the last sixty years or so.”
He swallowed hard, then offered the garments. “Your boxers are cute.”
I took the stack and piled them on the sink counter.
Indy loitered, wringing his hands for a few seconds before giving an awkward cough. “Well, I didn’t mean to intrude. I’ll give you some privacy.”
“You don’t have to.” I shrugged. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” With a tug, the towel fell away, hitting the floor in a damp heap.
Indy’s golden eyes bugged wide, and the color on his face deepened to a darker shade of red. “Jesus, Legs, you gotta warn a guy before you start stripping. Lemme pull up a chair and get some singles or something.”
Smiling, I rummaged into the stack of clothes and found the “cute” boxers. Indy did most of our shopping, which meant he picked out a lot of my clothes. I’d heardthe Mister Rogers crack before, plus another about roleplaying life as a college professor. My style was vastly different from Indy’s, but he never tried to change it. Argyle socks and underwear with bananas on them notwithstanding.
I stepped into the boxers while Indy alternated between ogling me and aiming his gaze away. By the time I’d pulled on my jeans and buttoned the fly, his wanton lust had been replaced by a more studious expression. He stared at my chest with his brows knit together.
“Loren?”
I paused with the shirt he’d selected draped over my arm and tipped my head toward him.
