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“That’s because everything won’t stop spinning,” I whined. Fox chuckled softly and grabbed my hand.
“Come on. Let me help you.” I allowed him to take my hand and walk me inside his place.
The living room was lit by a lamp in the corner, but my vision was too fuzzy to get a good look around.
I expected to just flop down on the couch but instead, he pulled me back to the bathroom and started the shower.
“You are covered in sand so I’m pretty sure you probably want to wash that off. Everything you need should be either in the shower or under the sink in the cabinet. Do you need help, or can you do it yourself?”
“I got it,” I answered quietly because all the fight had been drained out of me. As much as I didn’t want his kindness right now, I knew it was what I needed. It had been a long time since anyone cared enough to do anything for me.
“Okay. Holler if you need me.” Fox nodded and closed the bathroom door.
I took my time in the shower and let the water run over my face until my cheeks started to feel numb. I had no idea what tune I was humming anymore. It started out as a very off-key rendition of Crazy in Love and then transformed into something else entirely. I washed my hair with shampoo that smelled like him and covered my body with his shower gel. For some odd reason, it felt like an invisible blanket of protection. How odd to feel comforted by a man I only met a couple of days ago and for no reason other than him being a decent person to me. I decided to tuck that admission away and examine it later.
Once I was all showered and dried, I put on the T-shirt Fox left on the counter. I brushed my teeth with the brand-new toothbrush I found in the cabinet. When I stepped out of the bathroom, Fox was sitting at a small desk in the corner wearing a T-shirt and flannel pajama pants. He was staring at his laptop deep in concentration as he hunted and pecked at keys with his index fingers.
“Are you okay?” he asked, peering up at me from behind a pair of black-rimmed glasses. Not everybody could pull off looking sexy in glasses but, God, on Fox they looked smoking hot.
“Yeah.” I cleared my throat. “The shower made me feel better.”
“Good, I put a bottle of water and some Advil on the nightstand. If you need anything else let me know.” I caught sight of a pillow and blanket he had on the couch presumably for himself.
“Fox, I don’t want to kick you out of your bed. I can sleep out here.”
“It’s fine. Go.” He waved me away as his eyes shifted back onto his computer screen. I started to go into the bedroom but turned around one last time.
“Fox?”
“Yeah.”
“Thank you. I know I’ll probably do my best to seem ungrateful because sometimes I can’t help it. But I just wanted you to know that I really appreciate everything you’ve done. You’re a good guy. I haven’t had a lot of that in my life, so I don’t know what to do with it.”
That moment had nothing to do with bourbon. I’d given him those words freely and without regret. Fox stared at me for a moment, not speaking, and when the side of his mouth turned up in a small smile, I found myself smiling too.
“I’ll try to remember that.”
“Okay.”
“Good night, motorcycle girl.”
“Good night, Dominic.”
Fox laughed softly as I closed the door.
Chapter Eight
I woke up with the familiar feeling of hangover. My eyelids felt heavy and my mouth dry. I brought myself up to a sitting position, moved my hair out of my face, and looked around. At first, I was a little startled to discover I wasn’t at Mack’s. Then I remembered it was Fox’s room, and I was lying in his massive bed…alone.
I pushed back the dark gray comforter that smelled like him and stretched. There was very little in the way of décor in his room. Just a large dresser to the right with a flat-screen TV resting on the top, and a large painting of a sailboat on the opposite wall just above his clothes hamper that was overflowing with dirty laundry. It was cozy and comforting.
I drank what was left in the water bottle and got up. I opened the door and peeked into the living room to see that Fox was still sleeping. My breath caught at the sight of him. He was on his back, sprawled out on the couch. One forearm was resting across his eyes while the other arm was lying across his flat abdomen. His chest was bare, and he was wearing the same blue flannel pajama bottoms from last night. God, he was gorgeous. I was just thinking about how I could stand there all day and admire the view as he started to shift. Quickly, I turned into the bathroom and quietly closed the door. After splashing water on my face and brushing my teeth, I went back into the living room and found Fox in the kitchen, scooping coffee into a filter.
“Morning, Dracula,” I called out in my most chipper voice.
“Mornin’, motorcycle girl.” He chuckled in a deep gravelly tone, his voice still heavy with sleep and it made my stomach flip. “How are you feeling?” He asked with a sleepy smile.
“Oh, just fine.” Unfortunately, I was no stranger to hangovers and could usually function quite well after a couple bottles of water and a foot-long sub.
