Francesca finds a ball with a bell in it, the same kind you’d give a cat, and rolls it across the floor. I snatch it up before she can get to it. “Wanna play, little lady?” I toss it across the room and she races after it.

Once she catches it, she brings it right back to me. I look over my shoulder at Bancroft who’s watching me with an amused expression.

“She plays fetch!”

“It’s her favorite. She also loves snuggles while we watch TV.”

“I’m in love with her already.”

He mutters something I don’t catch. “If you’re all right with her, do you mind if I have a quick shower? Or I can put her back in her cage and you can have one, too.”

For half a second I take that completely the wrong way. Probably because the second he said shower I started picturing him naked and wet. “Why don’t you go now and I’ll have one when you’re finished.”

“Sure. Great. Then I’ll order dinner?”

“Um, you don’t have to order in. I’ll eat pretty much anything.” Except for everything Armstrong ordered the other day. And I can’t really afford to splurge on expensive takeout.

“My fridge isn’t well stocked. It’ll be my treat.”

I feel some guilt over accepting more handouts from him, but I’m hungry enough to agree. “Okay. Sure.”

“Excellent. I won’t be long.” I smile and turn back to Francesca when she nudges my hand, the ball already at my feet.

I toss it and watch her bounce across the floor. She really is the cutest little thing. The next time she comes back she has a new toy. It’s a mouse, so I dangle it and she jumps for it. When Bancroft returns from the shower I’m lying on my back on the floor with one mouse dangling from the tail between my toes, and jingling the bell ball in my hand.

His feet show up in my field of vision first. His socked feet. What the fuck? Maybe he’s got a thing about bare feet. Maybe he hates feet. Maybe he really loves socks. At least these are ankle socks and not the ones that cover up his amazing calves. I look up, past his knees to the cargo shorts, the black belt that cinches at his waist, and the half-unzipped fly. I get a very brief glimpse of red as he stuffs his hands in his pockets. Too bad he’s not commando. Not that I’d be able to do anything about it if he was, but I’d have five weeks of self-pleasure fodder.

I remember, rather vividly, what it felt like when what he’s hiding behind his fly was pressed up against my stomach during our accidental kiss. I keep going, up, up, up that very mountainous body. He’s wearing a red T-shirt. That’s rather disappointing. No shirt would be greatly appreciated. Maybe I should make a sign while he’s away, one that says No Socks, No Shirts Required or something. He seems like the kind of guy who might find that funny. And who might accommodate me by taking it seriously.

“Want to take a break from entertaining Francesca?” he asks.

“Sure.” I toss him the ball, which he catches underhand with a quick step to the side thanks to my poor aim.

Francesca scampers over to him and tries to scale his leg. Instead of throwing the ball, he scoops her up. “I can order dinner while you’re getting cleaned up, then we can go over the house rules.”

“House rules?” I raise a brow. “You mean like no boys in my room after nine?”

Bancroft frowns. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Not at the moment.” But I’d sure like to be friends with whatever’s hiding behind the fly of those cargo shorts he’s wearing. I do a half bridge and roll up to a stand. “Does this mean I have to cancel the kegger I was planning for tomorrow night?”

Bancroft’s eyebrow lifts.

“I’ll just remove that post I put up a couple hours ago. I think only, like, two hundred people responded.”

He cracks a grin. “Only two hundred?”

“Tomorrow I was planning to take an ad out in the Times, pass out a few thousand fliers, that kind of thing, but I guess I’ll just cancel those. I was thinking to charge like twenty dollars a person, but now I’ll just have to settle for cable TV and chilling with Franny and Tiny.” I brush past Bancroft on my way to my temporary room, enjoying his wide-eyed uncertainty.

“You are kidding, right?” he calls after me.

I just laugh and close the door, leaving him to wonder.

Once I’m in my room I survey the boxes, glad I had Amie’s help packing, otherwise I’d have no idea where anything is. Thankfully the box labeled bathroom is close to the top of the stack, so it’s easy enough to get to. I carry it into the bathroom and then realize I have no idea how the shower works. There are seven-hundred buttons and levers and I don’t know what belongs to what.

I make a guess and press one of the buttons in the middle. Cold water shoots out of a jet in the wall at face level. I scream and try to hit it again, but I manage to hit the wrong one, activating yet another jet. So of course, I scream again. The water goes from freezing to scalding in a matter of seconds. I back away from the jets, into the corner, instead of out the open shower door. Now they’re alternating scalding spray from all six jets. It’s like a very hot game of Whack-A-Mole, except no one’s hitting me over the head with a mallet, I’m being blasted with fiery sprays of water.

There’s a knock in the middle of my yelps. It sounds like it’s outside my door. Bancroft’s muffled voice follows. “Ruby? You okay in there?”

“I think I need some help!” I call back.

“Is it okay if I come in, then?”

“Please!”

“Ruby?” Bancroft’s voice is closer now, inside my room but outside the bathroom.

“I’m in here! I’m trapped in the shower!” I call out.

“Trapped?” Worry makes his voice a little deeper.

“The jets are shooting scalding water at me.” I yell back. “I can’t get past them.”

“Can’t you just turn them off?” Now it sounds like he’s trying to stifle a laugh.

“I did try!”

“Are you—” there’s a brief moment of hesitation, followed by the clearing of his throat. “—decent?”

“I’m being cooked in your shower and you’re worried about my state of dress?”

The door opens slowly and Bancroft’s dark hair appears, followed by his eyes, which dart toward the shower. His brows come down and then pop up. Crinkles appear in the corners of his eyes. He pushes the door wide. “How’d you end up in the shower fully dressed?”