"Yeah," he nodded, starting to look genuinely amused.
"Well one could say they're self-cleaning, right?"
"Yep."
"Then how come you're supposed to clean it with vinegar and baking soda once a month? Huh?" I pressed when he didn't answer. "How much do you want to bet the owner of this place doesn't bother running empty cycles with bleach to clean these cesspools out?"
Wolf exhaled on what was almost a laugh. "This a big deal?"
I pursed my lips. "I'm pretty sure I don't want to be wearing clothes with leftover pee and god-knows what else on them."
Wolf nodded, grabbing the bag and hauling it over his shoulder as he made his way to the door.
"Um... where are we going?" I asked as he tossed the bag into his truck out front.
"Buy a washer," he said, going to his side of the truck and climbing in.
So yeah... then we went to buy a washer."Janie..."
"I'm just saying... you're a big bad biker dude and your clothes are probably covered in grease and blood more often than they're not. Do you really want a machine that you can't use the extra strength, super sudsy laundry detergent with?"
"It's bigger."
"Yeah well maybe you'll just have to do a few more loads."
The salesman stood there, stoically silent, hopefully taking my "grease and blood" comment with a grain of salt. But if he did, he was a fucking idiot. This was Navesink Bank, if we were talking about blood, we didn't mean from falling down and skinning a knee.
"It's not the washing machine's fault that one pair of your pants take up as much space as three pairs for a normal person," I added when he remained silent and the salesman checked his cell discreetly. To his credit, he didn't even look uncomfortable. I guess people fought a lot in the appliance department.
Wolf sighed, slamming his big fist down on the machine I picked. "This one," he said, making the salesman jump. "This too," he said, hitting the dryer.
"Great, sir. Now would you like us to deliver and set everything up for..."
"No."
I looked at Wolf's profile and felt my own lips twitching. To the salesman or anyone else, his no just sounded like a no, but to me, I heard more. I heard- no, I have a huge truck so I don't need it delivered; I also heard- no, I don't need you to set it up. I'm a man who knows how to do manly things like that.
"If you can just bring it to the back, we can load it into the truck," I supplied, giving the salesman what I hoped was a sweet smile.
"Sure thing. We can just ring you up back here..."
So a washing machine, a dryer, two gallons of extra strength, super sudsy laundry detergent, and a laundry basket later, we made our way back to the cabin. I was still a little jazzed up that he had chosen the machine I suggested and even more jazzed at the idea of getting to watch him set said machine up. If there was one thing that was guaranteed to be sexy to watch a man do, it was pretty much anything that involved tools.
"Where are you going?" I asked as he drove past the cabin and into the woods.
"Shed."
"The shed?" I yelped, thinking of the little shoebox of a room where he had been shoved when he was all nutso. "How can you hook them up in the shed? There's... nothing in there."
"Got electric. Got plumbing."
"There were no lights and no bathroom!" To this I got a shrug. "So you're telling me that you built it, plumbed it and ran electrical but somehow forgot to put in a toilet and a lamp?"
"Something like that."
I shook my head, settling back against my seat. Okay so maybe the plumbing thing made sense. He was a guy after all; the world was his urinal. But why not put some lights up? Maybe he just never spent any time there because it was so far away from...
"Wolf, you do realize how long a walk the shed is from the house, right?"
"Yep."
"So you plan to just trudge through these woods with a laundry basket all through the dead of winter... even when there is a foot of snow on the ground?"
"Nope."
"What do you mean 'nope'?"
"Not me, you."
I clicked off my belt and turned fully toward him. "I'm sorry... what?"
"I cook. You got laundry."
Well then. That was kind of... fair. Except... "Yeah that would work if you had to you know... trudge a mile through the woods holding a turkey and a bag of potatoes to get to the kitchen."
Wolf pulled off beside the shed, cutting the engine, and hopping out. I hopped out too, much less easily given my height, stumbling slightly until I righted myself. "Is this some kind of punishment for throwing a fit about the laundromat?" I pressed as he hopped up into the bed to get the climbing dolly we had rented at the home improvement store on the way back.
"No," he said, rolling the dolly toward the boxes.
I wanted to follow him up, but there was no way I could get into the bed without flashing him. And I wasn't wearing panties. I had tried to get him to stop off at my car so I could at least grab a bag with some clothes in it. For whatever reason, he refused. And unlike the argument about the washing machine, he did not bend.
I watched as he got the first box on the dolly and let the awesome contraption do its job and lower down to the ground. He brought it into the shed and came back out for the other. When he got it down, I moved to fall into step beside him. But then he turned, grabbed me at the hips, hauled me up onto the open truck bed and put me there.
"Stay."
"Stay?" I sputtered, slapping at his hands. "I'm not a fucking dog, Wolf."
"Need to work."
"Yeah, I know. I can help. I know all about tools. I can like... hand you stuff."