Page 8 of Street

She glanced around his bedroom. He wasn’t a slob but not a neat freak either. His closet door was open, displaying a pair of boots by his jeans that he’d kicked off after work last night. The bed was made, but the comforter was carelessly tossed into place. A stack of clean clothes sat on his dresser, waiting to be put away.

“I’ll go throw together some lunch for us. Are there any foods you can’t eat?”

“I don’t like green things,” she answered, wrinkling her nose.

“Allergic?”

“Only to the taste.”

“We’ll work on that. Take your time, Rosa,” Street said as he returned to the kitchen. “Bring your dirty clothes to the kitchen when you’re ready.”

“Thanks,” she said quietly.

“My pleasure, Little girl.” Small luxuries like clean clothes, personal supplies, and a hot shower had cracked the protective shell around her slightly. He found himself wanting to meet the woman inside who could focus on living, instead of merely surviving. Street made a vow to help Rosa bloom in his care.

Chapter 4

Rosa stood under the warm spray in the shower. How long could she stay in here before Street came to demand she stop wasting water? Her previous bathing option had consisted of a small bathroom sink in the corner of her room. She’d had to scrub that until her hands bled to feel safe using the basin for splash baths and to wash her clothes. The previous resident hadn’t been averse to living in squalor.

The landlord would at least have a much cleaner place to rent after she left—even if the Ravagers had ripped up the furniture searching for something valuable, or maybe they thought destroying her things would harm her. Either way, her deposit was gone, and she needed to move. Rosa shook the thoughts of where she would head next out of her head. That decision was for another day.

Finally, she forced herself to turn off the shower. To her dismay, a grimy ring circled the bottom of the tub. She couldn’t leave the previously spotless porcelain like that. She was horrified that despite her best efforts to stay clean so much filth had rolled off her, but Rosa didn’t want to cause Street any problems. She’d follow his rules for as long as she could to let the heat die down.

Rosa grimaced at herself in the mirror. Who was she kidding? She could get herself out of town by hitchhiking today. Street fascinated her. He was totally hot with those hard muscles and a handsome face, and he was a Daddy. “If only he was my Daddy,” popped into her mind, and she immediately pushed that ridiculous wish away. Sadness flooded her. Street deserved someone much better than her.

She dried her skin and wrapped her hair in the same towel, trying to leave the least impact on his home. She searched under the sink for some type of cleanser for the tub but couldn’t find anything. Using her shirt and a bit of shampoo, she started scrubbing. Thankfully, the traces of grime vanished quickly with some vigorous cleaning. Gathering her clothes, she headed for the bedroom he had given her to collect everything in her duffel.

She hesitated for a minute about what to do with Inky. Finally, she set him on the pillows where he could sleep and recover from his abdominal surgery. He really needed to take life easy for a while.

A flash of anger struck her when the memory blazed into her brain that the Ravagers had sliced her stuffie open and pulled out his fluff. She swore vengeance on the MC while realizing she was powerless to make them pay. Someday, if she could ever turn her life around, Rosa vowed to punish them for the terror they’d inflicted on her best friend.

With that promise made, she forced herself to leave the beautiful room, hesitating only when she spotted her tennis shoes. Street had to think she’d run away or slipped down the drain. Impetuously, she grabbed her stained footwear and the canvas duffel and added them to the pile in her hands.

“Hey, sorry I took so long,” she apologized as she hesitated at the kitchen doorway. “I hope you ate.”

“No problem, Rosa. I’m glad you enjoyed your shower. Let me throw these into the washer for you.” He looked at the pile and nodded. “Good idea. I can toss these sneakers and the bag in as well.”

“Hey. This shirt’s soaked? Did you forget and wear your clothes into the shower?” he teased, grinning at her.

Her heart had flip-flopped in her chest at his handsome face. That smile was dangerous. “I used that to tidy up my mess. You know, sop up the water,” she improvised.

“Little girls and guests don’t clean,” he said sternly.

Could she like his serious face even better? In the future, she guessed she’d fantasize that Street would actually care enough about her to be upset that she’d scrubbed the tub. When she didn’t answer, that strict look intensified.

“Just trying to help,” she said quickly. “I can put my clothes in.”

“I’ve already got my clothes in the tub. Do you care if our things commingle?”

“No. Of course not. That is if you don’t mind. Mine may need some intense cleaning.”

“Not a problem. I have some special detergent that gets out the grime from working in the warehouse. I can’t believe what I get into sometimes.” He plucked the clothes and shoes from her hands and carried them into a small room off the kitchen. Street returned a few minutes later and waved her toward the rear porch. “It’s nice outside. Go take a seat. I’ll grab the sandwiches.”

Letting herself out the door, she chose a chair at the table. Rosa smoothed his borrowed T-shirt over her thighs. Remember. He’s just being nice. He’s not your boyfriend. But he had shared his clothing with her.

To stop herself from reading something more than niceness into his actions, Rosa glanced around the table. Ice water sat at each spot. She grabbed a glass and almost drained the contents in one gulp.

“Good thing I brought the pitcher. I was thirsty. I figured you would be as well,” Street announced, joining her with a laden tray. When she pressed her hands on the table to stand, he added, “I’m good. Stay where you are.”