She doubted the explosion of comfort and cozy was for Chase’s benefit.
She tamped that thought down, continuing on through the bathroom door, then locking it for good measure. Not that he would walk in. And he was the only person in the house.
Still, she felt insecure without the lock flipped. She took a deep breath, stripped off her coveralls, then the clothes she had on beneath them, and started the shower. Speaking of things that were designed to be shared...
It was enclosed in glass, and she had a feeling that with the door open it was right in the line of sight from the bed. Inside was red tile, and a bench seat that... She wasn’t even going to think what that could be used for.
She turned and looked in the mirror. She was grubby. More than grubby. She had grease all over her face, all up under her fingernails.
Thankfully, Chase had some orange-and-pumice cleaner right there on his sink. So she was able to start scrubbing at her hands while the water warmed up.
Steam filled the air and she stepped inside the shower, letting the hot spray cascade over her skin.
It was a massaging showerhead. A nice one. She did not have a nice massaging showerhead in her little rental house down in town. Next on her list of Ways She Was Changing Her Life would be to get her own house. With one of these.
She rolled her shoulders beneath the spray and sighed. The water droplets almost felt like fingers moving over her tight muscles. And, suddenly, it was all too easy to imagine a man standing behind her, working at her muscles with his strong hands.
She closed her eyes, letting her head fall back, her mouth going slack. She didn’t even have the strength to fight the fantasy, God help her. She’d been edgy and aroused for the past twenty-four hours, no denying it. So this little moment to let herself fantasize...she just needed it.
Then she realized exactly whose hands she was picturing.
Chase’s. Tall and strong behind her, his hands moving over her skin, down lower to the slight dip in her spine, just above the curve of her behind...
She grabbed hold of the sponge hanging behind her and began to drag it ferociously over her skin, only belatedly realizing that this was probably what he used to wash himself.
“He uses it to wash his balls,” she said into the space. Hoping that that would disgust her. It really should disgust her.
It did not disgust her.
She put the scrubber back, taking a little shower gel and squeezing it into the palm of her hand. Okay, so she would smell like a playboy for a day. It wasn’t the end of the world. She started to rub the slick soap over her flesh, ignoring the images of Chase that were trying to intrude.
She was being a crazy person. She had showered at friends’ houses before, and never imagined that they were in the shower stall with her.
But ever since last night in the bar, her equilibrium had been off where Chase was concerned. Her control was being sorely tested. She was decidedly unstoked about it.
She shut the water off and got out of the shower, grabbing a towel off the rack and drying her skin with more ferocity than was strictly necessary. Almost as though she was trying to punish her wicked, wicked skin for imagining what it might be like to be touched by her best friend.
But that would be crazy.
Except she felt a little crazy.
She looked around the room. And realized that her stupid friend, who had not wanted her to touch the nice clothing he had bought her, had left her without anything to wear. She couldn’t put her sweaty, grease-covered clothes back on. That would negate the entire shower.
She let out an exasperated breath, not entirely certain what she should do.
“Chase?” she called.
She didn’t hear anything.
“Chase?” She raised the volume this time.
Still no answer.
“Butthead,” she muttered, walking over to the door and tapping the doorknob, trying to decide what her next move was.
She was being ridiculous. Just because she was having an increase of weird, borderline sexual thoughts about him, did not mean he was having them about her. She twisted the knob, undoing the lock as she did, and opened the door a crack. “Chase!”
The door to the bedroom swung open, and Chase walked in, carrying one of those plastic bags fancy dresses were stored in and a pair of shoes.
“I don’t have clothes,” she hissed through the crack in the door.
“Sorry,” he said, looking stricken. At least, she thought he looked stricken.
She opened the door slightly wider, extending her arm outside. “Give them to me.”
He crossed the room, walking over to the bathroom door. “You’re going to have to open the door wider than that.”
She already felt exposed. There was nothing between them. Nothing but some air and the towel she was clutching to her naked body. Well, and most of the door. But she still felt exposed.
Still, he was not going to fit that bag through the crack.
She opened the door slightly wider, then grabbed hold of the bag in his hand and jerked it back through. “I’ll get the shoes later,” she called through the door.
She dropped the towel and unzipped the bag, staring at the contents with no small amount of horror. There was...underwear inside of it. Underwear that Chase had purchased for her.
Which meant he had somehow managed to look at her breasts and evaluate their size. Not to mention her ass. And ass size.
She grabbed the pair of panties that were attached to a little hanger. Oh, they had no ass. So she supposed the size of hers didn’t matter much.
She swallowed hard, taking hold of the soft material and rubbing her thumb over it. He would know exactly what she was wearing beneath the dress. Would know just how little that was.
He isn’t going to think about it. Because he doesn’t think about you that way.
He never had. He never would. And it was a damn good thing. Because where would they be if either of them acted on an attraction between them?
Up shit creek without a paddle or a friendship.
No, thank you. She was never going to touch him. She’d made that decision a long time ago. For a lot of reasons that were as valid today as they had been the very first time he’d ever made her stomach jump when she looked at him.
She was never going to encourage or act on the attraction that she occasionally felt for Chase. But she would take his expertise in sexual politics and use it to her advantage.
Oh, but those panties.
The bra wasn’t really any less unsettling. Though at least it wasn’t missing large swathes of fabric.
Still, it was very thin. And she had a feeling that a cool ocean breeze would reveal the shape of her nipples to all and sundry.
Then again, maybe it was time all and sundry got a look at her nipples. Maybe if they had a better view, men would be a little more interested.
She scowled, wrenching the panties off the hanger and dragging them on as quickly as possible, followed closely by the bra. She was overthinking things. She was overthinking all of this. Had been from the moment Chase had walked into the barn. As evidenced by that lapse in the shower.
She had spent years honing her Chase Control. It was just this change in how they were interacting that was screwing with it. She was not letting this get inside her head, and she was not letting hot, unsettled feelings get inside her pants.
She pulled the garment bag away entirely, revealing a tight red dress slightly too reminiscent of what the woman he had been flirting with last night was wearing.
“Clearly you have a type, Chase McCormack,” she muttered, beginning to remove the slinky scrap of material from the hanger.
She tugged it up over her hips, having to do a pretty intense wiggle to get it up all the way before zipping it into place. She took a deep breath, turned around. She faced her reflection in the mirror full-on and felt nothing but deflated.
She looked...well, her hair was wet and straggly, and she looked half-drowned. She didn’t look curvy, or shimmery, or delightful.
This was the problem with tight clothes. They only made her more aware of her curve deficit.
Where the blonde last night had filled her dress out admirably, and in all the right places, on Anna this dress kind of looked like a piece of fabric stretched over an ironing board. Not really all that sexy.
She sighed heavily, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach.
Chase really was going to have to be a miracle worker in order to pull this off.
She didn’t really want to show him. Instead, she found the idea of putting the coveralls back on a lot less reprehensible. At least with the coveralls there would still be some mystery. He wouldn’t be confronted with just how big a task lay before him.
“Buck up,” she said to herself.
So what was one more moment of feeling inadequate? Honestly, in the broad tapestry of her life it would barely register. She was never quite what was expected. She never quite fit. So why’d she expect that she was going to put on a sexy dress and suddenly be transformed into the kind of sex kitten she didn’t even want to be?
She gritted her teeth, throwing open the bedroom door and walking out into the room. “I hope you’re happy,” she said, flinging her arms wide. “You get what you get.”
She caught a movement out of the corner of her eye and turned her head, then recoiled in horror. It was even worse out here. Out here, there was a full-length mirror. Out here, she had the chance to see that while her breasts remained stunningly average, her hips and behind had gotten rather wide. Which was easy to ignore when you wore loose attire most days. “I look like the woman symbol on the door of a public restroom.”