“Patrick, what for the love of God are those?”
“Those are my shirts.”
Donella gave him still an amused smile before she picked up another shirt. “They need the entire length of the drying rack,” she said. “Someone could probably use that comfortably as a tent.” She hung the wet shirt over her arm and leant over so her face was in front of his. “Ever thought about donating a bunch and helping the homeless?”
“I did,” he buzzed unfazed and straightened the shirt he had just put on. He then slapped his shoulder blade. “And some of them already helped this homeless arse.” He took the shirt from her arm and smiled as she laughed.
“Are your pants similarly huge to fit this homeless arse?” she said and patted his bum.
Paddy laughed and put his hand on his bum. “You saw both my shirts and my pants off of me before,” he said, his eyes on Donella as she went around him. “I’ve just got a broad back, I always did.”
“Seeing them crumpled up on a bedroom floor is something different than seeing them all laid out on a drying rack,” she answered.
“Oh, just wait until you do laundry,” he told her. “I’m going to finally take a look at all those pretty dresses all laid out.”
“Don’t you dare,” she said and he chuckled. “Unlike you, I don’t have the excuse of a broad back, I only have a few kilos to lose.”
“Don’t forget your beautiful, long legs,” he said and pressed a kiss to her cheek on his way to return the laundry basket.
“Oh, but nothing about the extra kilos?” She asked with a smug grin.
“You know I love every single kilo on you!” was the answer from the other room.