His gaze sharpened at the use of his name.
I gripped the edge of the table. My back straightened.
“I’m not asking you to trust me,” he said. “I’m telling you that you aren’t required to stay.”
“Thank you. I remain aware of that.”
His eyes dipped briefly to my mouth before returning to mine.
I picked up my sandwich.
After we ate, I picked up my handbag and followed him to the bathroom. It was clean, compact, and had a locking door, a standing shower, a toilet, and barely enough counter space for the bag.
“I have spare toothbrushes,” he said. “They’re unopened.”
“Do you frequently host stranded women?”
“No. I buy them in multipacks.”
“Of course you do.”
He took a toothbrush from the cabinet and placed a clean towel beside the sink. “The lock works. I’ll stay in the main room while you use it.”
I looked at him through the mirror.
“You don’t have to announce that you won’t barge in.”
“I thought you’d want to know.”
I did.
“Thank you.”
Jonah stepped out and closed the door.
I turned the lock.
My reflection looked like I’d been transported from a Brooklyn rooftop party into an outdoor-equipment advertisement. My thick curls had survived the flight but not the mountain road. Dust clung to the toes of my stilettos. Diamonds and layered gold still flashed at my throat and wrists, and my French-tip acrylics remained flawless. My leopard-print cropped top still fit perfectly, and the black skirt still hugged every curve, but neither had been designed for sweating inside a stranger’s cabin.
I cleaned my face, brushed my teeth, and washed the dust from my feet. The cold water cooled my skin until I remembered Jonah’s eyes dipping to my mouth.
My pulse jumped again.
I opened the door.
He stood near the table with a folded dark T-shirt in his hands.
“You can sleep in this if you want,” he said. “It’s clean.”
The shirt would reach halfway down my thighs.
My nipples tightened beneath the thin fabric of my top.
I folded my arms before he could notice.
“That would be helpful.”
Jonah handed it to me and stepped back.