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Someone has obviously been in my room.
When I roll over after a few minutes of gleeful mental replay of that whole scene with Alexa, I find there’s an outfit laid out on my bed: a pair of Halli’s jeans, a red checkered shirt, and a pair of Western boots.
Alexa has been here. This must be her idea of an “appropriate outfit” for the brunch Halli’s mother scheduled. Maybe the dining room has been switched over from its sailor theme, and now it’s been reset to “cowboy.”
I can’t deal with it at the moment. I shove the clothes aside. What I want most right now is a nice long shower to wash away all the sweat, and to give me some private time for thinking.
But it’s hard to just let your mind wander when you step into the shower and it turns into a jungle. The waterfall yesterday was in a
