“I thought you were ‘Chief.’” It was the other officers’ nickname for him.

“The chief,” he said, opening the door. He was wearing light gray sweatpants and a white T-shirt that strained at his shoulders, just a little. “As in, the police chief.”

“Oh,” I said, laughing and rolling my eyes at my denseness. I scrubbed a hand over my face. “I swear I’m not usually this slow.”

“Go.” He pointed to the bedroom with his chin. “Wash up. You’ll feel better after a shower.”

Nodding slowly, I finished off my whiskey and ambled into the bedroom. I shut the door just as Garth had—not quite all the way. Fair’s fair, after all. I shrugged out of my leather jacket and laid it on the bed, then unzipped my sweatshirt and did the same with it. My tank top came off next.

I peeked my head back out into the living area, shooting a quick glance at my backpack. Everything I had in there was as dirty as what I was wearing, if not worse. “Do you mind if I do a load of laundry later?”

Garth, who’d been ducked in the fridge, stood and looked at me, smile genuine and eyes kind. “You bet.”

“Cool.” Biting my lip, I glanced at the backpack, once more. “And, uh, can I borrow some clothes?” I smiled apologetically. “Just until my stuff’s clean?”

Garth chuckled. “Yeah, sure. I’ll pull something out for you while you’re in the shower.” He returned to the fridge. “Do you like eggs? I was thinking breakfast for dinner.”

I grinned, stomach rumbling. I should’ve ordered some fries or something while I was at the pub. “BFD—sounds great. And, um, I sort of eat a lot,” I warned him. “It’s a thing . . . with my kind, I mean. Just so you know . . .”

Garth laughed. “Noted.”

I pulled back into the bedroom and quickly shed the rest of my clothes, leaving my combat boots on the floor by the closet and everything else wadded up into a bundle held together by my sweatshirt. I set the clothes on the floor beside my boots and padded into the bathroom, more than a little excited to get to know Garth’s shower.

Like, really well.

Chapter Seven

Garth’s shower didn’t disappoint. It was as divine as I’d imagined it would be, and by the time I emerged, pruney and squeaky clean, I felt like a new woman. I smelled like a new woman, too, thank the gods.

Wrapped in an oversized towel that nearly reached my ankles, I headed back into Garth’s bedroom. A gray T-shirt and sweatshirt, some black sweatpants, and a pair of white socks were laid out on the foot of the bed.

I dropped the towel and dressed in the sweatpants and T-shirt, opting to go barefoot for the moment. It had been days since my feet were truly free. I put on the sweatshirt, too, because no bra. Before heading back out to rejoin Garth, I scooped up the towel along with my dirty clothes.