“I’m going to make a trip to the laundrette, uh, laundromat in St Duncan’s. Would you like me to get anything for you while I’m in town?”
John stood on Mitch’s front doorstep the next morning. He’d hit on the idea that he could explain away the shirt’s long absence because he was going to take it to be dry cleaned and was waiting until he had enough other dirty clothes for the laundrette, which was next door.
“If you wouldn’t mind taking a load of laundry in for me, it’d save Morwenna the trouble,” Mitch said, smiling down at John.
John shrugged. Why did his heart beat faster at the sight of Mitch’s smile? Also, the part of his brain he didn’t allow to influence him too often was creating images of John sniffing the big man’s dirty laundry.
What the hell’s up with you lately? You’ve tu
