Room...but Not Bored!. Dawn Atkins

and innocent. Take the bra you’ve got on. It’s so thin a guy might think you’re not wearing anything at all…just speaking theoretically, of course.”

      “Of course.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

      “You have no idea what it does to a man when he thinks a woman has nothing on underneath,” he said, watching her face.

      She felt an unnerving tickle between her legs, so she turned to grab up more clothes—slips and scarves—from her bag.

      She turned back just as he mused, “No snaps, no latches, no hooks…. Just one thin layer of fabric between us and glory.” He grabbed some T-shirts from a drawer, emptying it, then grinned at her, “And if there are no panties…well, that’s like winning a Powerball.”

      “What makes you think I want to know this?” she said, shoving her clothes into the emptied space, unhappily close to Jake, who leaned against the bureau.

      “Don’t women wonder what men think about?”

      “We already know—sex…every fifteen seconds, right?” She closed the drawer with an authoritative hip check.

      “Well, I don’t wear underwear.” He winked. “In case you’re curious.”

      She couldn’t help glancing at the crotch of his swim trunks. When she dragged her gaze back up, he was waiting for her with a smirk. Gotcha.

      “Women buy me these,” he said, lifting the load in his arms. “God knows why.”

      Especially because he probably wasted no time getting out of them. He wandered away, Lucky lumbering after him. Ariel watched him go, unable to believe she was joking about underwear with a man she’d only known for four hours.

      Her energy seemed to give Jake momentum, at least, and he picked up the pace. While she emptied her second suitcase, Jake dragged the weight bench out, along with some things piled in the corner—a basket with Frisbees and balls and a brightly colored fabric kite—whistling cheerfully the entire time.

      Ariel was putting the photo of her and her mother on her nightstand when Jake stopped to look. “Your mom?” he said, picking up the pewter frame and examining its contents. Light flashed from the glass onto his face.

      “Yeah. Christmas three years ago.” She and her mother stood with their arms around each other’s waist in front of the fake Christmas tree in her mother’s manufactured home. Myra, one of the diner waitresses, had taken the shot.

      “You look like her,” Jake said, studying the picture. “Same jaw and mouth. Your eyes are the same green. Nice.”

      “Thank you.” She looked down at the photo again, concentrating on her mother. “She looks tired, don’t you think? She worked double shifts to afford this Christmas.” That had to stop. Ariel couldn’t wait to make enough money to supplement what her mother made at the diner, so she could work part-time, maybe go to school, have some vacation, do something she really wanted besides work, work, work. The thought of that put the fire in Ariel’s belly again. She would make this business fly, or die trying.

      “So, invite her out here for a weekend,” Jake said. “She can hit the beach and relax.”

      Ariel laughed. “My mother at the beach? I can’t imagine.” It would be good for her to take a breather, though, and the two of them could do some real talking for a change. Maybe after she’d made some headway with her business and the cottage was finished, she’d invite her mother out to see the place.

      Jake put the photo on the bureau, then surveyed the room. “Looks like you’re set.”

      “For now. Tomorrow I’ll get my office equipment and personal stuff out of storage. Rent a truck, I guess.”

      “You need a truck? I can borrow one easy, if you’d like.”

      She looked at him. Borrowing a truck would be quicker and cheaper. Otherwise, she’d have to take buses to where her car was waiting in a friend’s garage, drive to the truck rental place, backtrack to return the truck. “I hate to put you out. You have all the work on the cottage to do.”

      “I’ve got plenty of time for that.”

      “Just a month.”

      He just grinned, acknowledging her jab, but brushing it off. “Let me give you a hand.”

      “Okay. I’d appreciate that. I’ll pay for gas, of course.”

      “Come on. We’re roommates.”

      For some reason, they both looked straight at the unmade bed, still dented from her nap. Ariel suddenly needed him out of the gold-lit room that was entirely too intimate for strangers—even strangers who’d examined each other’s underwear.

      She looked toward what would be Jake’s room—for tonight at least—and saw the gaping hole. “Maybe we should put that sheet up now? Between the rooms? Maybe one of those canvas drop cloths would work.” Nice and thick and opaque.

      “You sure? You won’t bother me. Unless you walk in your sleep? And that wouldn’t necessarily be a problem….” He was teasing her, but she felt that funny quiver all up and down her spine.

      “I’m a very quiet sleeper,” she said primly. “But I’d like the canvas, please.”

      “You’re the boss,” he said and headed away, grinning, Lucky at his heels.

      Jake brought back the canvas and Ariel held it up while he nailed it in place. It was thick, but no sound barrier. She thought about telling Jake not to bring Heather home, but decided she’d probably ordered him around enough for the night, and vowed to be asleep before any hanky-panky got started.

      A snuffling sound made her turn. There stood Lucky with his head squished into an odd shape, a silky trunk of panty hose hanging from his muzzle. Her last pair of fancy stockings!

      “How did you get those?” she asked him, tugging the panty hose off his face and holding them up. “Ruined.”

      Jake laughed. “That’s no way to get into a lady’s underwear, Lucky.”

      “I spent a fortune on these.”

      “You’ve got great legs, why cover them up?”

      “It’s just the principle of the thing,” she said, though the compliment was not lost on her. Her fancy nylons were ruined, kind of like her life plan right now. The beach was out to get her one way or another. She balled up the shredded delicate and shot Lucky a fierce look.

      Who, me? Lucky’s expression seemed to say. Just like Jake.

      “Come on, Lucky,” Jake said. “I think we just wore out our welcome.” He held open the drop-cloth curtain between the bedrooms until Lucky passed over. He hesitated before following. “Holler if you need any more help,” he said.

      Help? God save her from any more of his help tonight. “I’ll be fine, thanks,” she said, relieved when he let the cloth barrier fall between them.