felt…alive. If only she could bottle this feeling, with the sun on her face, the forbidden sense of being outside in her shirt and panties, with the mud soothing her skin in a way she hadn’t expected, she’d be a millionaire.
She bet her sisters would take notice then…
She wished she was better prepared, because she would’ve liked to strip down even more and treat herself to a good soak. But she didn’t have a towel or water to wash off with afterward, so she turned back to shore and…
Her foot slipped.
Chloe did a perfect imitation of a cat scrambling for purchase on linoleum, but it was no good. A second later, she was on her butt. She gasped but didn’t bother to scramble up. It was too late now; she was in up to her belly button. Never one to waste an opportunity, she took another look around, then carefully pulled off her half-muddy shirt and tossed it to the shore to join her jeans. Relaxing, she soaked in her bra and panties beneath the wide-open sky.
As the mud worked its magic, she finally admitted to herself that what she’d felt earlier was more hurt than anger. She’d honestly tried to fit in, to pick up the slack around the B&B. And just because her mother’s death and going into business with her sisters had forced her life into a one-eighty, it didn’t mean she could ignore her other responsibilities. Dammit, she’d been serious about the skincare line she’d been working on, and her client list hadn’t been developed overnight. Didn’t that alone prove she’d grown up some?
But with some distance—and warm mud—she could admit to herself that she understood her sisters’ concern. Renovating the sunroom would cost time and money. And yes, they were right, Chloe’s track record was spotty. But there had to be a compromise. She could promise to commit to a certain number of days a week where she’d stay in town, for instance. And they could promise to believe her. With a resigned sigh, she rose and walked out of the mud.
She looked around, then with a philosophical shrug, she stripped out of her bra and panties, rubbed the excess mud off the best she could, and put her clothes on.
Commando.
Then, with the mud drying on her skin, she moved gingerly back down the trail, telling herself she was merely amplifying the healing affects by keeping the mud on so long. Hell, she’d probably look like a movie star after this. By the time she got to her Vespa, she’d talked herself into believing it. Hard to do when she felt like she’d been wrapped in concrete, but she managed.
That’s when she discovered problem number two. Her Vespa wouldn’t start. Okay, this was more than a minor setback. With no cell service, she had little choice. She walked down the road to the highway. Unfortunately, by the time she got there, her lungs had had enough. The two long walks had tightened her chest uncomfortably. Her inhaler helped with that, but she still didn’t have cell service. She was going to have to flag someone down off the highway while looking like a swamp thing.
So much for being a grown-up.
In less than five minutes, a shiny black truck pulled off to the side of the road. Todd’s baby.
“Hey, cutie,” Todd said with his good-old-boy smile as he leaned over and opened the passenger door. He wore a Mariner’s cap on backward, a ratty T-shirt, equally ratty jeans, and steel-toed boots, none of which took away from his easy good looks and tough build. A roofer by trade when he chose to work, he was clearly on his way to or from a job. “Problem?” he asked.
He didn’t blink at the mud. This was probably because he wasn’t looking at her limbs. Nope, that honor went to her braless breasts, now outlined with extra-special clarity thanks to the mud acting like an adhesive. “My Vespa’s battery is dead,” Chloe said. “And I don’t have cell service.”
“No one does right here.” He didn’t say a word about the fact that her Vespa was nowhere in sight. “You know what
She bet her sisters would take notice then…
She wished she was better prepared, because she would’ve liked to strip down even more and treat herself to a good soak. But she didn’t have a towel or water to wash off with afterward, so she turned back to shore and…
Her foot slipped.
Chloe did a perfect imitation of a cat scrambling for purchase on linoleum, but it was no good. A second later, she was on her butt. She gasped but didn’t bother to scramble up. It was too late now; she was in up to her belly button. Never one to waste an opportunity, she took another look around, then carefully pulled off her half-muddy shirt and tossed it to the shore to join her jeans. Relaxing, she soaked in her bra and panties beneath the wide-open sky.
As the mud worked its magic, she finally admitted to herself that what she’d felt earlier was more hurt than anger. She’d honestly tried to fit in, to pick up the slack around the B&B. And just because her mother’s death and going into business with her sisters had forced her life into a one-eighty, it didn’t mean she could ignore her other responsibilities. Dammit, she’d been serious about the skincare line she’d been working on, and her client list hadn’t been developed overnight. Didn’t that alone prove she’d grown up some?
But with some distance—and warm mud—she could admit to herself that she understood her sisters’ concern. Renovating the sunroom would cost time and money. And yes, they were right, Chloe’s track record was spotty. But there had to be a compromise. She could promise to commit to a certain number of days a week where she’d stay in town, for instance. And they could promise to believe her. With a resigned sigh, she rose and walked out of the mud.
She looked around, then with a philosophical shrug, she stripped out of her bra and panties, rubbed the excess mud off the best she could, and put her clothes on.
Commando.
Then, with the mud drying on her skin, she moved gingerly back down the trail, telling herself she was merely amplifying the healing affects by keeping the mud on so long. Hell, she’d probably look like a movie star after this. By the time she got to her Vespa, she’d talked herself into believing it. Hard to do when she felt like she’d been wrapped in concrete, but she managed.
That’s when she discovered problem number two. Her Vespa wouldn’t start. Okay, this was more than a minor setback. With no cell service, she had little choice. She walked down the road to the highway. Unfortunately, by the time she got there, her lungs had had enough. The two long walks had tightened her chest uncomfortably. Her inhaler helped with that, but she still didn’t have cell service. She was going to have to flag someone down off the highway while looking like a swamp thing.
So much for being a grown-up.
In less than five minutes, a shiny black truck pulled off to the side of the road. Todd’s baby.
“Hey, cutie,” Todd said with his good-old-boy smile as he leaned over and opened the passenger door. He wore a Mariner’s cap on backward, a ratty T-shirt, equally ratty jeans, and steel-toed boots, none of which took away from his easy good looks and tough build. A roofer by trade when he chose to work, he was clearly on his way to or from a job. “Problem?” he asked.
He didn’t blink at the mud. This was probably because he wasn’t looking at her limbs. Nope, that honor went to her braless breasts, now outlined with extra-special clarity thanks to the mud acting like an adhesive. “My Vespa’s battery is dead,” Chloe said. “And I don’t have cell service.”
“No one does right here.” He didn’t say a word about the fact that her Vespa was nowhere in sight. “You know what
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