Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
I checked the time again. Fifteen-ish minutes to go.
I lifted my gaze just as he walked under the water spray, and I noticed he was shaking. Like, really fucking shaking.
I swallowed hard and couldn’t stop myself. I grabbed the orange juice and walked right over there, and I didn’t care I got wet.
“Please drink this right now.” I handed him the juice carton, in which there wasn’t much left, and I snatched up the body wash. I wanted him under the covers within the next few minutes. “Can you tell me if it’s the flu, hon?”
“I d-don’t know.” He took a gulp of the juice, then another and another. It was weird seeing him with a beard, even though it wasn’t very long. “It probably is.” He shuddered violently as I began washing him. Baseball stats, baseball stats, not thinking about my hands being back on his body, just baseball stats. “Angie was sick last week.”
“Angie…?” Who the fuck was Angie?
“My cousin.” He took another swallow, and I decided not to analyze my relief. I need help. “She helped me find the dog shelter and paid for the exam—wait.” He went rigid, panic visible in his eyes. “What date is it?”
I furrowed my brow. “The 16th. Saturday.” Had he missed the whole damn city turning green?
“Oh, thank fuck.” He let out a breath, eyes welling up, a sight that shocked me so much that I missed the juice carton slipping from his fingers. It landed on the floor with an echoing thunk. “Goddammit—sorry. I’m sorry.”
I shook my head, a bit dazed, and wondered what the hell had just happened.
“What’s with the date?” I kicked the carton aside, then rubbed more body wash into his skin. The water was washing it off too quickly, but I didn’t want to pull him away from the warmth.
He sniffled and wiped at his cheeks. “I-I got a job. I finally got a job.”
I didn’t know what cracked my chest wide open more, the good news or how emotional it made him.
“That’s…” I had to clear my throat and push back my own emotions. “That’s incredible. What’s the job?”
He sniffled again, and he scrubbed his hands over his face. “I’m sorry. I’m a mess.”
I didn’t fucking care.
“It, uh…” He took a deep breath, and I dropped my stare. Shit. I couldn’t go lower than his stomach. That’d be weird. So I let my hands go north instead, and I rubbed his neck. “It’s—they… I applied for a job there a while back, but they never gave me an answer,” he croaked. “Then they called me earlier this week and asked if I would be interested in another position.”
“Doing what?”
He seemed to come to; he glanced around us, maybe now acknowledging what I was doing for the first time, and he poured a little bit of body wash into his hand. “Maintenance in residential buildings around the city.”
Well, shit. That was great.
“It’s full time,” he added, making quick work of washing his hair. And beard. “I start on Monday, and I g-get a company car to get around.” The moment the last word left his mouth, he swayed and had to steady himself with a hand on the wall, and it killed my smile before it could break out fully.
“Okay, let’s get you ready for bed.” I grabbed the showerhead and moved it over his head and down his body.
Of course that was the moment he chose to wash his cock, when he could barely stand. But…I’d seen this before. Not…not actually seen it, but I knew getting clean was high up on the list of priorities for people who finally got a night off the streets.
Did he have to be so fucking handsome?
He’d lost some weight, though. That worried me.
Fucking everything about this son of a bitch worried me.
Once he was done, I turned off the water and snatched up two towels, one he could wrap around his hips, and the other for around his shoulders. Then I threw my wet tee over my head, and it landed with a splat in the shower. Christ, my gym shoes too. I’d really come in here without a single functioning brain cell.
“Is it just me, or is it freezing?” he asked, shivering.
“It’s just you.” I unbuttoned my jeans next and pushed them down.
My boxer briefs were still dry, so I had that going for me.
“I gotta get dressed,” I said. “Dry off and go to bed. I’ll bring the food.” I grabbed it on my way out and went straight into the front room, where I unloaded water, pretzel sticks, Nutella, and cold pizza on the coffee table.
I’d see if Petey could put together a soup downstairs for later, though I wasn’t sure. At this hour, and today of all days, nobody ordered fucking soup. They wanted wings, fries, hot dogs, and onion rings.