For once Clint didn’t read the innuendo in her words, and he made no move to join her either. Ducking her head under the warm spray, she let it thoroughly soak her tangled hair before pouring a dollop of shampoo into her palm.

Clint’s sudden request made her pause a moment before he explained himself. He wanted to shave, wanted to improve his appearance. That had to be a good thing.

“Cleaning up just for me? How sweet,” she said. “There’s probably a razor and some shaving cream under the sink if you prefer. You know where the knives are.” Natasha normally waxed, it lasted longer, but sometimes a quick shave was in order.