Every other man

As Chad steps out from behind the door, it's several moments before Rosalyn realizes she'd been staring - again - and she blinks, forcing her eyes back up to his face instead of focusing on his muscular chest. "Um..." What had he just said anyway? It takes all she has to ignore how hot her face was.

He'd invited her in. Right. Dropping her gaze dumbly, she steps inside the very familiar bunk. Except tonight, it was feeling awfully small. As Chad's hand brushes hers, it shoots a tingle all the way up her arm, and she gives a little shiver.

Finally coming to her senses, a sarcastic snort surfaces. "Some people need more than one shower - so pouring cold water on you is still an option."

Aiming for the bathroom with a couple towels, she feels like she ought to be covering her eyes or something, so she just leaves the towels on the counter instead of taking time to hang them up. Returning to the bedroom just in time to hear his comment, all she can do is roll her eyes. "Apparently you have not yet been cured of this fresh air, Mr. Mason."

Instead of telling him whether or not she wanted his help, she sets to work on the bed by herself, stripping it down like she'd done a million times before. She knew just where to yank and tug to get all the sheets and pillow cases off within seconds.

Grabbing the fitted sheet from him, she easily gets it on the mattress before taking the other sheet and throwing it up so it would fall neatly into place before she tucked in the corners. As she puts the pillows into the clean cases, her eyes remain on her task. "Maybe you should have chosen to help me," she muses dryly. "It probably would have taken us twice as long - that is, if you have as much skill in this as every other man I've known."