CHAPTER 3
Nick was exhausted. He didn't understand what in the hell was wrong with him. His head was banging like a bongo drum from everyone screaming at him all day. The smell of burnt wood and chemicals from the fire that morning had now been replaced with the pungent odor of his soap. Damn, Nick had always loved Irish Spring, but after scrubbing down three times, the smell of lavender, rosemary, lemon, and who the f**k knows what else started to get to him as much as the fire scents had. Nick found himself rinsing off and tossing the stupid bar into the trash next to his dove shampoo. What in the hell was wrong with these companies thinking they had to
perfume up men's toiletries? He was a man, damn it, and wanted to smell like a f*****g man. Not some woman ready to walk the streets o
