...icious if they come back and the cars aren’t washed.”
He had to agree. And the cars really did need to be washed. Maybe if they worked quickly, they’d have time left over for other fun.
She bent over to pick up the bucket, and his gaze became riveted on her shapely butt. She caught him staring and shook her head in exasperation.
“Here, make yourself useful.” She handed him the bucket full of soapy water. He took it and carried it out to the cars.
Though it was still early in the morning, it was already warm. It promised to be a hot summer day.
He dunked the sponge in the bucket and was about to start with the hood, but she stopped him.
“We should start at the top,” she told him. “Otherwise the hood will just get dirty again.”
She was right, of course. Gwen always planned ahead and worked efficiently.
He made short work of washing the roof of his car and watched with amusement as she stood on her tip-toes and struggled to reach a spot on the roof of hers. Her body pressed against the side of the car, and he idly wished it were him she was pressed up against.
Gwen grimaced. Her calves and shoulders ached from straining to reach the top of the car. There was one stubborn splotch rig...