“Forgot an umbrella. Can I dry my clothes?” He tugged at the t-shirt sticking to his chest.

Her eyes followed the movement. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve met you outside with an umbrella.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, Cherisse, maybe I figured you wouldn’t care to do something like that.”

She tugged on a braid, eyes not meeting his. “Listen. About what I said, I’m really...”

“Can we get to that after? I’m cold.”

“Okay, just follow me. I’ll get you a towel, and I don’t know what you’ll wear in the meantime, but I have a dryer for your clothes.”

“I don’t want to drip on your floor more.”

“You can’t strip right here. It’s okay, I have a mop.”

“It’s less of a hassle if I just keep the puddle to one spot.”

“It’s fine.”

He followed her upstairs, conscious of the water dripping behind him, but if Cherisse didn’t care, why should he?

She pointed at one of the closed doors. “Bathroom. Towels are on the shelf in there. I’ll see what you can wear when your stuff is drying.”

“I can mop up for you,” he offered, even though he really wanted out of these soppy clothes, but he’d made the mess, so it was ingrained in him to offer.

She sucked in her bottom lip before releasing it with a pop, fiddled with her braid again. Was she nervous? It wasn’t an emotion he’d ever seen from her. Cherisse oozed confidence or haughty superiority when she was dealing specifically with him. “Don’t be nice to me. It’s weird, and I don’t deserve it.”

“Well, you catch more flies with honey than vinegar.”

“I was a bitch.”

“Yup.”

“So, yell at me or something.”

“Nope.”

“But why?”

“Too tired.” Which was the truth. Arguing with his father at that meeting while Sean looked on smugly had been exhausting.

Cherisse shook her head. “I’ll get you something to wear.”

He’d slipped into the bathroom, tossed off his wet clothes, secured the towel around his waist, and was peering at the ceramic cat on the toilet tank by the time Cherisse knocked on the door. She stumbled back when he opened the door.

“Fuck me. Jesus.” Her eyes drank in his bare chest and dipped down to his hand, clutching the towel.

“As much as I’m enjoying the look on your face right now, are those for me?” He indicated the bundle of clothes cupped in her hands.

She jerked her gaze up. “Yes, here.” She shoved the clothes into his hands. “Sean’s stuff. Guess I forgot to give these back. Feel free to keep them, burn them. I don’t care. Let me put your wet stuff in the dryer.”

Seriously, Keiran couldn’t be free of Sean today, but clothes were clothes. He couldn’t afford to be picky when remaining in only a towel while waiting on his clothes to dry wasn’t an option.

Cherisse’s eyes made another sweep of his bare chest before she literally shook herself and muttered, “I’m downstairs,” before briskly walking away.