“I thought that meant peeing on my shoe or something.” Jo took the ice pack and pressed it to her head. “Thank you for the ice.”
“I didn’t mean to scare you, Jo.”
She smiled, waving his apology away. “I know.” Her expression changed, nerves and uncertainty clouding her clear gray eyes. She fidgeted, tugging her robe down while trying to smooth her hair. Her hand landed on one of the large rollers covering her head and her eyes went round. She froze, shook her head and sighed, closing her eyes. “My mother would die. No, no, she would disown me for this.” She pressed the ice to her forehead.
He laughed. “I won’t tell.” He paused. “But I’ll see if I can get your brush for you. I don’t know if the museum has a dress code or not, but I’m pretty sure hair rollers and bathrobes aren’t on the short list.”
She adjusted her ice pack so she could level him with a sexy-as-hell, narrow-eyed smile. “Museum?” She was interested, he could tell.
“An Impressionist exhibition. A few Monets. Still your favorite?” Her anger gave way to surprise, then pleasure...then something else that was warm and promising. His lungs emptied, hard and fast.
He stooped, breaking the connection to search cabinets. He didn’t want to get sidetracked from the night he’d planned. If he wasn’t careful, it’d be all too easy to get lost in her silver-gray eyes. He kept searching until he found the dog treats. “Good thing there’s a lock on this one.” He pulled the bag from the cabinet and shook it. Jo, he noticed, was pulling rollers from her hair and tucking them into her robe pockets. She was awkward and nervous and all sweet, soft woman.
“Does my head look bad?” she asked, smoothing her hair before holding the ice back to her temple.
He shook his head but didn’t trust himself to speak. Instead, he called, “Sprinkles. Come on, girl.” He kept shaking the bag, hoping the crackle it made would be too hard for the little dog to resist. It was. The rapid tap tap of Sprinkles’s claws announced her speedy arrival. She sat, putting her little paws up to beg. He gave Sprinkles a biscuit and graced Jo with a smug smile.
“Oh, please.” Jo sighed. “Really?”
“I get this from all the girls,” he teased.
Jo burst out laughing then. “I bet you do.” She stood, setting the ice and towel in the sink. “I’ll leave the two of you alone while I go recover my brush...and anything else she’s hidden under the bed.”
He watched her go. Her pockets might be bulging with rollers, but the sway of her hips was unmistakable.
Sprinkles scratched his jeans.
“That’s how it is?” he asked, giving the dog another biscuit. “You don’t deserve another one, picking on Jo like that.”
Sprinkles whimpered, spinning around twice.
“Yeah, you’re cute and you know it.”
Sprinkles sat and yapped at him, ears perked forward.
“No!” Jo’s cry had Hunter headed back down the hall to her room.
“What now?” he asked, leaning against her door frame.
She spun, holding her dress out to him. “Hates me.” Holding up the dress, it was clear to see a series of tiny teeth marks along the little slit up the back of the dress.
“I can stitch it,” he offered. “Believe me, this is nothing.” He took the dress from her, inspecting the tear. “Needle and thread?” He glanced at Jo to find her staring at him, her expression thoughtful.
“Hunter, I can wear something else.” She glanced around her room.
He did, too. “Uh-huh.” Organization wasn’t one of Jo’s strong suits.
She grinned at him. “Fine.” She hurried out of the bedroom, returning minutes later with what looked like a mini black suitcase. She handed it to him. “Thank you. Again.”
“My pleasure.” He took the dress and bag and headed back into the living room. “I’ll let you finish your hair or whatever.” Because if he stayed there, in her disaster of a bedroom, he’d never want to leave.
* * *
JOSIE SUCKED IN a deep breath as she climbed into the truck. “I’m sorry about tonight.”
“What for?”
“Where should I start? Finding me crawling around on the floor in a robe. Having to apply first aid on my head, sewing my dress up—”