It would be nice for things to be different for just one night.

“You sure?” I asked as I shifted the weight of my pack.

“Quite,” Cade responded.

“It’s fine,” Ethan added, “And when you’re done you’re more than welcome to use the washing machine to clean any of your clothes. Water’s free here, so don’t worry. I’m sure this storm is going to last a while.”

I turned toward Ethan and raised one eyebrow, “Free water?”

“It’s included in the lease. So yeah, free water,” he nodded as he removed his jacket.

Oh dear God.

You shouldn’t have done that.

A white tee shirt hung from his well pronounced chest. Both muscular arms were covered in multiple tattoos, and it appeared he had no gut whatsoever. His waist was significantly smaller than his chest, making it seem, at least from what I was able to see, that he had a very well defined V shape to his torso.

“I’ll take you up on that,” I stammered as I turned toward the bathroom.

“Take your time, it’ll be about twenty minutes,” Cade said as he glanced at his watch.

I grinned as I walked into the bathroom, eager to take a shower. The thought of feeling, smelling, and appearing clean was exciting. The bathroom, as was the rest of the house, was spotless. I glanced at the sink, toilet, and into the shower wondering if they possibly had a maid.

I scrubbed myself in the hot shower, inhaling softly; allowing the citrus scent of the soap to fill my nostrils. I opened my eyes and watched as the water washed the soap away from my stomach and down my thighs. As the suds swirled down the drain, I gazed at the swirling water and wondered if this could possibly be a turning point in my life; washing away my past and stepping into a new stage of being, thinking, and living. I leaned away from the shower stream and realized as I squeezed the water from my hair that contemplating the possibility of change was nothing more than dreaming.

And as much as I desired change, dreams aren’t real.

They’re nothing more than far-fetched fantasy.

ETHAN

As Rain took a shower, I hung up my jacket, took off my boots, and washed my hands in the kitchen sink. The thought of talking to her openly, and finding out just what happened in her life to cause her to be homeless intrigued me. I wondered about her past, what her plans were for her future, and even where she came from. Anxious to learn as much as she was comfortable revealing, I picked up the remote and turned on one of my evening music playlists.

“Did you smell her?” Cade whispered as I walked into the kitchen.

Although she didn’t stink, while we were in the elevator, I noticed she smelled dusty. Similar to what I remember the attic space in my grandmother’s house smelling like, it wasn’t anything I found repulsive, but it wasn’t necessarily a desirable odor either.

“Didn’t smell a thing,” I lied, “I thought dinner was ready when I called you from the garage?”

“It was, but I wanted her to shower first. It’s in the oven staying warm. I hope the cheese doesn’t get dry,” he said as he opened the oven door and peeked inside.

I nodded my head and turned toward the counter.

“Well, she smelled funky,” he sighed.

I shrugged my shoulders and glanced at the food he had on display. A bowl full of a corn and cheese mixture he often cooked, a large bowl covered with aluminum foil, and smaller dishes filled with shredded cabbage and chopped tomatoes sat on the island separating the kitchen from the entry. To the side, a tortilla warmer full of tortillas reminded me more of dining in a Mexican restaurant than eating at home.

Cade was different, that was certain.

“She’ll smell like Axe body wash here in a minute,” I chuckled over my shoulder.

“I wonder what happened,” he said as he closed the door of the oven, “She’s really cute.”

“Dude, poverty is blind,” I said as I reached in the refrigerator and got a beer.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Just what I said,” I responded as I twisted the lid from the bottle, “It doesn’t matter if you’re cute or ugly, being poor isn’t a choice people make. Do you think she sat in school as a kid and said damn, I can’t wait to graduate, I want to be a homeless girl? I seriously doubt it.”

He shrugged his shoulders, “I guess not. But she’s really cute.”

He shifted his gaze toward the bathroom, “Did you hear that? She turned off the water. Move so I can grab the enchiladas before the cheese gets hard.”

He waved his arms, attempting to get me to move away from the oven. As I stepped aside, I heard the bathroom door open.

“I really hate to ask, but I’m going to,” she hesitated and pressed her face against the four inch wide gap between the door and the frame, “Do you have a pair of sweats or shorts, maybe a really long tee shirt or something I can wear while my clothes are washing?”

“Sure,” I responded.

“Give her one of your wife beaters,” Cade whispered as he reached into the oven.

I glanced over my shoulders and rolled my eyes as I walked past him. As I passed the bathroom, she grinned and closed the door. After a quick survey of my clean clothes, I found a pair of new sweats I had no idea were even mine. I looked in the waistband.

Medium. I don’t own anything that’s medium.

Considering the fact they were possibly my ex-wife’s clothes, I grabbed a clean tee shirt, grinned, and started walking toward the bathroom. As I reached the door, I hesitated, walked to the trash, opened the lid, and pushed the sweats down deep into the trash can.

“What are you doing?” Cade asked.

“They were full of holes. I’m going to grab something else,” I responded.

I glanced toward Cade, and shifted my eyes toward the bathroom door. After a short pause, I turned toward Cade again, “Hey, I’ve changed my mind. Let’s agree on something, okay?”

“Depends, what?” he responded over his shoulder.

“Unless she brings it up, don’t ask her about her past. Don’t ask about her being homeless, okay? I want her to be comfortable here,” I said.

He looked up and shrugged his shoulders, “Agreed.”

I walked to my room and grabbed a pair of cut off sweats I had turned into shorts. Although they were large, the drawstring was intact. I held them at arm’s length and studied the size, wondering what they would look like on her. I walked to the bathroom and tapped lightly on the door.

As the door opened slightly, I craned my neck in an effort to see a glimpse of her. A very tan hand reached through the door opening. As I handed her the clothes, I glanced below the towel she was wrapped in and noticed a shapely but very pale thigh. I shifted my gaze upward and was met by one of her mysterious blue eyes.

“Thank you,” she said as she closed the door.

I stood and stared at the closed door for a moment before I shifted my gaze toward Cade. I felt as if I wanted to speak, but had no idea what to say. Many things about Rain intrigued me, but at least for now, I decided to keep my mouth shut.

“Okay, they’re fine,” Cade said as he peeled the foil from the dish of enchiladas.

I shook my head and chuckled as I walked toward the kitchen, “Glad to hear it, I’d hate for this chick to have to eat slightly overcooked cheese.”

“Table, or here at the bar?” Cade asked.

“Table,” I responded.

He scrunched his nose and stared, “Seriously? We never eat at the table.”

“We rarely have company. And it’ll be nice for her,” I shrugged.

“Fine,” he responded as he carried the plates and silverware to the table.

She opened the bathroom door and stepped into the living room. Cade stood directly behind her, carefully placing the plates and silverware on the table. As she raised her hands in the air and smiled, Cade’s eyes widened and he covered his mouth with both hands.