Not wanting to linger because, this time around, I didn’t relish being caught naked in Ford’s house–again–I finished up and used one of the towels I found stacked on a shelf to dry off. I’d probably have to take another shower at home with a ton of conditioner to untangle my bedraggled hair, but at least I was clean. I wrapped the sheet around my body and marched back down the stairs with my damp clothes. Ford was there waiting for me, but Kennedy had disappeared. So had Roscoe.
Ford took my things—with his eyes focused anywhere in the room but at me—and stalked away to the laundry room. When he returned, he took a mug out of the cabinet. “You want something warm to drink? We have coffee. No tea. Hot chocolate because Kennedy has a sweet tooth.” He raised an unruly dark brow. “So do you,
