Once they’d cleaned up the kitchen, and they’d showered—separately—Jessica sent Greg trotting home in his rinsed-out clothes and squishy sneakers. He could have stayed in a towel while his clothes tumble-dried, but she didn’t mention that option. He’d be right back, as she’d promised to make brunch for him, but she wasn’t ready to face a n***d Greg clothed only in a bath towel.
During the run, she’d worked on her mental man-list a bit. She wasn’t an intentional tally-keeper and it definitely wasn’t well thought out, but every now and then she’d run into something and add it to her list. Most items she learned about men landed solidly in her no-way-in-hell category. Some fell into her wouldn’t-that-be-nice-even-if-she-was-never-gonna-find-it category. Very few items fell into the required
