Chapter 4
As Bobby needed to get to work, he went first in the shower, but he didn’t agree until Sam said he’d make sure Chantelle took a hot bath after she’d washed off all the mud.
Chantelle stood at her dressing table, unusually self-conscious dragging a brush through her hair, picking out leaves and twigs. Her scratches were easy to take care of by shifting, but a few blemishes didn’t warrant the effort. Besides, she liked them. War wounds.
Sam’s gaze met hers in the mirror. To her surprise, a flush spread over his face. Before either of them spoke, Bobby emerged from the bathroom. He grabbed his clothes, donned his shirt, fastened his trousers, pushed his feet into his shoes and grabbed his jacket. With one swift glance at the clock he hurried to the door, cursing.
Despite the tim
