He expected her to lift the cotton hem up to her bra, not shed it altogether and throw it on the floor. Despite the seriousness of the conversation, James straightened up and blinked a couple of times. Tried to hold a poker face that landed between disbelief and amusement. “Okay then,” he mumbled. “I, um, need something from the trailer.” Thumbing over his shoulder, he added, “Don’t go anywhere.” The leather cushion sighed when he got up to leave the office, the back door bouncing once before it closed in his wake.
The sun loomed over the roof of his place, shooting light in a dazzling beam off the truck windshield. James shielded his eyes and made quick work of his porch steps, keys in hand, metal lifting the pins, until he was safely inside. He made a beeline for the spare room where he kept the materials he needed. Drawers clattered open and shut. James gathered items in the crook of his arm. On the way back out, he took a jar from the fridge and kicked it shut behind him.
When he got back to Celeste, most of it was on the verge of dropping.