She followed this declaration with another swat of pasta and another and another, until her hands were covered in white sauce and there was no pasta left.
She stared at her palms in horror and then back up at Beau. He looked like he’d been attacked by a bowl of pasta. His face, his chest, his shoulders were all covered in white sauce, cubed bits of ham, and whole-wheat fettuccine.
And though she couldn’t see his eyes behind his ever-present sunglasses, he held his entire body in a clench, including his large, hulk-like fists. Her heart went tight with the old fear, and for a few seconds, she stood there, frozen like a frightened bird, hoping if he couldn’t see or hear her, he wouldn’t be able to find her to hit her.
But then he took a step toward her, and he was so much bigger than Wayne. He easily had an extra one hundred pounds on her former husband. All of it muscle.
She screamed, hunkering down and covering her head with her arms.
BEAU DREW UP SHORT. Was she screaming? Why was she screaming? He was the one covered in food.
“Josie,” he said, softening his tone and bending down toward where he sensed she was, grabbing her by her forearm.
She broke off screaming with a yelp of fear. “Don’t! Don’t hit me!” she cried. It sounded like she was on the edge of hysteria.
“I won’t!” he yelled back. “Now stop screaming! The neighbors are going to think I’m in here murdering you.”
He felt her lower the arm he’d grabbed, but she was still trembling.
“What the hell’s the matter with you?” he asked.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Don’t be sorry,” he answered. “Tell me why you threw my dinner at me.”
He could still feel her shaking, but her voice was laced with defiance when she answered, “Because you were being a jerk.”
Despite the circumstances, he had to hide a smile. So the Josie he used to know hadn’t been completely replaced by the meek maid who had been serving him without complaint for the last two days.
“Well, the joke’s on you, because now this jerk needs you to help him take a shower.”
Silence from Josie but eventually he felt her stand up. “Let’s get this over with,” she said. “I’ve got plans.”
And Beau’s heart hardened as he stood up as well. Josie’s plans not only caused his blood to boil with jealousy, it reminded him that he was blind and dependent on others to do even the most basic shit now. He’d gone from being one of the most eligible men in Los Angeles to some shut-in, living like a ghost in his childhood home.
And it for sure didn’t help when she took his hand and led him into the bathroom. A certain portion of his body that didn’t seem to get that Josie was about to head out on a date with another guy roared to life when her soft hand clasped his.
Pathetic, especially since Josie was less than interested. As soon as she got him standing just outside the shower, she let go of his hand.
A few seconds later he heard the sound of water spraying out of the shower head, and she said, “I’m turning my back so you can get undressed.”
A minute later it sounded like she was on the other side of the large bathroom when she asked, “Do you need me to help you into the shower?”
“No,” he answered, stepping in on his own. “I know how to step into a fucking shower.”
“I didn’t say you didn’t, I just—”
“This water’s too hot,” he said. “What are you trying to do? Scald my skin off?”
“No, I…”
Footsteps, the sound of the shower curtain being slid opened, and the water went from hot to tepid.
But then she suddenly gasped.
Beau smiled. A gasp like that only meant one thing: she’d looked. She’d seen the evidence of how much he wanted her sticking out, hard and stiff between his legs. And what she’d seen had elicited a gasp from her pretty mouth.
“What’s wrong?” he asked nonchalantly.
“Nothing!” she answered. He imagined her averting her eyes from his naked body. “Nothing at all. How’s the water now?”
The thought of her gaze on his body sent a thick bolt of desire pulsing through his manhood.
“Now it’s too cold,” he answered, wanting to keep her there, wanting to do more than listen to her adjust the temperature of his shower.
The water got a bit hotter, but this time she didn’t ask for his approval before he heard the shower curtain close again.
Beau smiled to himself. She had seen what he was packing, and moreover, it had made her uncomfortable. He decided to take his sweet time in the shower.
Let Josie see just how uncomfortable things could get.
CHAPTER 9
HOW LONG COULD ONE SHOWER TAKE? Josie wondered.
She’d cleaned up the mess from the pasta fight and steam cleaned the rug in Beau’s bedroom for the second time that week, but when she’d returned to the bathroom, he was still in the shower. And even though she’d cracked the bathroom door open a few minutes ago, the room had turned into a sauna, making her long-sleeved plaid shirt damp and sticky on her overheated body.
At least she wanted to blame the shower for the state of her body. But her mind kept flashing back to Beau Prescott in the shower, chiseled like a freaking Greek statue, and his manhood, hard as a…
Josie shook her head. It had been too long since she’d seen a man naked. Yes, that was it, she assured herself. She had grown desperate, so much so, she couldn’t stop thinking dirty thoughts about a man who was most likely about to fire her for pelting him with pasta. That was all it was. Nothing more.
She pulled out her phone and wiped a layer of steam off the screen to check the time. It was now ten minutes past when she was supposed to be at Ruth’s House.
She stepped out of the bathroom and called Sam.
“Please tell me your boss isn’t keeping you tonight,” Sam said in lieu of a hello.
Josie grimaced. “Believe me, I wish I could tell you that.”
Sam made a strangled noise. “Ugh, and that’s the cherry on top of this terrible, terrible day.”
“What else happened?”
“Mr. Benson decided he didn’t want Ruth’s House to be great.”
“Oh, not the water heater!” The Benson water heater at Ruth’s house was ancient, seriously ancient. Even the company that made them had gone defunct more than ten years ago. But Sam had been doing her best to keep it alive for years now. “What did the plumber say?”