Page 53 of A Murderous Crow
“Taking my dishes to the sink to wash them,” I said.
“No way.” He grasped my wrist lightly. “I’ve got it. It can wait until later.”
I shook my head. “I’ll help you. It’ll take no time at all. My mother would be horrified if I left dishes in the sink for any length of time.”
He cocked his head curiously and took the plates from me, but he didn’t argue, surprisingly enough. He just gathered his and took them to the sink to rinse.
I went over, my heels clacking on the expensive slate tiles of his kitchen floor – which was a bold choice. One dropped pot or pan was apt to shatter one or many if it struck just right.
I opened the dishwasher, and he rinsed and I loaded. It was nice in a quiet, domestic sort of way – and I appreciated getting it done. I hated clutter as much as my mother, and apparently as much as he did.
When the final dish had been loaded, and the last lid had been put on a container for leftovers, I sighed contentedly.
He gave the sound a wry little smile as he opened the fridge to put the last container of leftovers away.
“I abhor clutter he said.”
“What a coincidence,” I murmured. “So do I.”
He pulled me into his arms and kissed my forehead.
“Thank you for the help,” he murmured. “It was nice.”
“Of course,” I said.
We stood like that for a little while, lost in each other’s eyes, and I honestly didn’t know what to make of it. It certainly didn’t feel anything likeno strings attached, but then again, I’d never done anything like it before and wasn’t sure how that all worked. I guess I was still learning.
“Now onto your reward,” he murmured and drew me along with him to the bottom of the stairs.
“I thought dinnerwasthe reward,” I said softly.
He shook his head lightly, eyes locked on mine, and said, “Dinner was because you needed to eat dinner.”
I laughed lightly at that and said, “Well, it certainly was a treat and very good, so thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said at the top of the stairs, and then he turned me around and marched me ahead of him into the soft golden glow of his bathroom.
It was hot in here, but that was because of the multitude of glittering candles along counters and on a low stool at the foot of the tub. The amber glow warm and inviting.
He kneeled at my feet and took up my heel, slipping my shoe off one foot and then the other.
I wore a khaki wide-leg pants set and a cream satin blouse, the outfit simple and tasteful for a real estate setting. I tried my best to dress in warm neutral colors for showings so that the house could be the star of the show. Plus, I just didn’t go for a lot of brights – it just wasn’t in my wheelhouse to be ostentatious.
I steadied myself on Corbett’s shoulder and let him take my other shoe off.
“Wait right here, don’t move a muscle,” he ordered.
I nodded, mute, curious as to what all of this was about.
He ran the tap, fingertips in the flow of water until he was satisfied with the temperature, then added a stopper to the tub before drizzling some potion from a cut-crystal bottle into the bottom.
An explosion of bright peach scent filled the bathroom, with something lightly floral underneath, enhancing the rich smell of what I considered sunshine as it crept to the ceiling, raised on the golden candlelight.
“That smells amazing,” I complimented.
He smiled and came back over to me, turning me to face the mirror so I could see myself, then standing behind me, and eyeing my reflection with an intensity that bordered on frightening.
He gathered up my long hair and pulled the simple comb, holding it back from my face from just behind and high up by my temple.
