Since I hadn’t said anything, he added, “I had my own razor, in case you’re wondering. Only thing I used was your water, soap and a towel. Anything I can help with?”
I snapped out of my daze and tried not to blush like a sixteen-year-old boy. “Uh, no. I’ve got it handled, thanks.” I turned to stir the beans and gather my thoughts.
Jesus, I hadn’t expected anything like this, and the way my dick was rising spoke of things that weren’t happening any time soon, if ever. This was a man hurting and in need of more than sex, though he definitely inspired it and he wasn’t even aware of it. I needed to keep my head in the game and ignore my crotch.
“Money’s in the envelope on the table.” I gestured with my chin toward it.
He grabbed the packet with a murmured “thanks” and stuck it in a jeans pocket.
“Not gonna count it?” I asked.
“No.” He sat in the chair without prompting this time. Perhaps he was more comfortable in my company now.