“I wanted to do it on my own.”
“Why do you insist on being so hardheaded?” he mutters under his breath.
I straighten my spine. “Oh, please. If it were the other way around, you’d drag yourself to the bathroom before letting me step in.”
Shep scoffs. “I wouldn’t be in this situation, because I would’ve listened when you told me to get off that rickety stool.”
I roll my eyes. “Bullshit. You’re way more stubborn than I am.”
“Dammit, woman, I’m half tempted to bend you over my knee.” His face drains of color when he realizes he spoke out loud.
God, the thought of it sends heat racing through me, thinking of being bent over his strong thighs, and the feel of his calloused hands on me… inside me… punishing me.
His eyes lock on mine, all the unspoken words lingering between us. I fidget with my bracelet, noting the blush covering his face, refusing to be the one to break eye contact first.
Shep clears his throat before effortlessly lifting me into his arms. I cling to his neck as he carries me to the bathroom, savoring the warmth of his embrace and his masculine scent. His tight, long-sleeved shirt stretches across his broad chest, emphasizing the curve of his biceps. My eyes shift to the patch of hair peeking out above the open button at his collar, and my fingers itch to trace along his bare chest, trailing down to his V-line in teasing strokes.
When we reach the bathroom, he shifts his hold on me to hit the light switch, gently setting me on the closed toilet lid.
The walls are slate gray, and the space smells faintly of pine and soap. A porcelain sink is set into the countertop with an oval mirror hanging above, and a shower-tub combo positioned next to the toilet.
“Thank you… Aren’t you going to leave?” I ask when Shep doesn’t move.
“Figured you might need a hand preparing the bath.” He nods to the cabinet, likely holding toiletries needed. “Not sure how you’d manage on your own, seeing as you can’t stand.”
I roll my lip between my teeth, overwhelmed by the flood of emotions crashing over me. I could try it alone, but the faucet is out of reach, and the flimsy towel rack won’t support my weight. It’ll be much easier with help—especially with a scalding bath calling my name.
My eyes dart to Shep, who patiently waits for my reply. The concern in his expression makes my cheeks flush—not fromembarrassment, but from the fact that he cares enough to make this easier for me.
“Help preparing a bath would be nice, thank you,” I say quietly.
“How hot do you want the water?” he asks.
“Hot enough to rival a volcanic spring and leave me looking like a lobster,” I offer with a cheeky grin.
Shep chuckles under his breath, nodding. “Let’s compromise and go with toasty, no lava burns included.”
I drum my finger against my chin. “I think that could work.”
He moves to the tub and turns on the faucet until steam begins to rise. After testing the water with his hand, he nods in approval and plugs the drain. He reaches for a bottle of three-in-one body wash from the corner shelf and pours in a generous amount. A swirl of cedar and mint fills the air as bubbles rise to the surface.
I make a note to order him some real shampoo, conditioner, and body wash, assuming deliveries exist on the mountain.
Shep shifts around me to the cabinet, retrieves a fresh towel beneath the sink, and places it on the vanity.
He glances back and forth between me and the rising bathwater, concern in his expression. “You need anything else?”
“I’ll make do, cowboy, I promise.”
He gives me a hesitant nod as he turns off the faucet. “Give me a holler if you need anything.”
“I will.”
He gives me a simple nod before stepping out and closing the door behind him.
After some careful maneuvering to get my pants and underwear off, I take care of business before slipping my shirt over my head and unfasten my bra. I drop both to the floor and ease myself from the toilet to the tub, wincing when my anklegrazes the porcelain. As I lower myself into the hot water, I sigh with relief, the heat easing the tension in my body.
As I start to relax, it hits me that I never thanked Shep for his help. I’m mortified that he went out of his way, and I didn’t even acknowledge it.
