Laundry Mat Mear Me Novels & Stories

' she fumed internally. Last night's bed sheets were a mess, and being the neat freak he is, Zach had replaced them. Madelyn bundled up the dirty ones, ready to trash them, but paused. 'What if someone notice?' She did not need that kind of talk around her. She scrubbed out the stains until they were barely noticeable and then, confident no one would spot them, tossed them in the garbage. Margaret walked in. "Hey, I'm here for the laundry." "Just grab what you need. Where are my father and Zach, by the way?"

A neutral look played on her face, hinting at the unspoken connection between them. Within the bathroom, Ariana gathered Mateo's damp clothes, her hands deftly maneuvering them into the waiting washing machine. She added detergent, ensuring each garment was treated with care. Observing the cycle commence, she monitored the rhythmic motion of the machine, a symbol of renewal and transformation.

Without waiting for her response, he took the blanket from the madam and rushed out of the house. Some minutes later, Matthew had drawn a bucket of water from the well at the front of the house. Soaking the thick blanket into the water, he rubbed some soap and scraped the material against the washboard. His wounded hands hurt badly, but he didn't stop until the stain was completely removed. Turning her dizzy head on the pillow, Arabella gazed out the window, watching the thug hang the blanket out to dry. After he'd finished the laundry, he returned to clean up the shards of the broken cup and scrub the floor.

I blush at the thought of him being my mate. I quickly finish the kitchen as I try to keep my mind off of Greyson. After making sure the kitchen was perfectly clean and prepping for lunch, I head to the laundry area. We have large industrial washer machines and dryers. With the size of them, I am normally able to finish nine loads in 4-5 hours. I quickly start some loads before heading upstairs to begin cleaning the Beta’s floor.

I whipped my head towards her direction. “Yes, ma?” I replied. “Come here.” I quickly turned my head back to find the product, still crouched down. A can of pesticide spray, dishwashing liquid, and . . . oh there it was, a fabric softener. “Eliana!!” my mama called again, this time with a raised and hasty voice. I quickly reached to get the fabric softener where I found it and rushed back outside. The dirty laundry was now in three neat piles of white fabric, bottom wears, and colored fabrics, and I noticed mama was just standing there, holding my used bedsheet. It was then I noticed the stain on the sheet’s fabric: a dark and rusty shade of red. My eyes shifted towards my mother’s face, hin

I washed it before I became bold. I prepared breakfast and packed a lunch box for Mateo, but I had no idea if he even went to work. It didn't matter, because I did say that I would deal with the kitchen duties—well, all of the wifely duties. I had also washed his bloody shirt, which I retrieved from the bin. Believe it or not, I was able to get rid of the stains after having to improvise with the baking soda and pine gel, almost burning off my fingers because of the hot water. The shirt was back to its original white colour and was drying outside. "Good morning, Zia." I bowed a little and greeted him back. Shit, this is so awkward, or am I making it awkward?

I scurried after him to defend myself. "It's just my father, I don't care if we're late," I argued. "This isn't some business meeting or anything with consequences." Matias sighed, "Maybe to you, it's not, but to me, everything is business." "Real cynical," I rolled my eyes, but luckily he didn't see. "I saw that," he declared, and then I noticed the wall of mirrors waiting for us in the bathroom. He opened a wooden pantry that had dozens of crisp white towels, folded to perfection, and pulled one out. He handed it to me, and upon touching it, I noticed this was less like a towel and more like a thousand tiny cotton balls sewn together—it was that soft.

Our mate will take care of everything. I quickly examine the half-bath, the cute kitchen with brand-new, stainless-steel appliances, the nook with the stacked washing machine and dryer. My mate has provided for us beyond what I could have imagined. I won’t have to send the washing out to the laundry. I can just do a load whenever I want. My wolf rumbles her delight. Our mate is clever and powerful. In the hallway, I slide open the doors of what I assume must be a linen closet, and my heart falls. The shelves are bare.

I offered. "Oh, thanks!" she replied with a smile. I snagged a book I had started some time earlier, along with the detergent and fabric softener sheets. There were a few other people in the laundromat, including four smaller kids. I had to wait for a while before a washer became available. Then I got engrossed in my book for the next hour. Tamara, a neighbor from three doors down in our building, gently nudged me to point out that my washer had finished.

Still, I feel my cheeks beginning to flush at the idea. My friends are all smiles as they dry off and get dressed. They look as happy and refreshed as I feel. “That was totally delicious,” Radar gushes. “I almost feel human again,” Doc adds as she lifts her long, damp hair away from her neck. I watch her jealously. Her silky black tresses don’t seem to have a single snarl in them. When we get back out into the main exercise room, another pleasant surprise awaits us. A Marine has discovered a bunch of rolled-up rubber yoga mats in a storeroom, so we won’t have to sleep on the hard floor tonight.