His eyes dips to where my palm still rests on his chest before finding mine again.
God. Damn. It.
Heat floods my cheeks that I lift my hand to touch them.
“I’ll . . .” I step back, bumping into the wall. “I’ll let you shower.”
The urge to flee from my own house is overwhelming.
“Just holler if you need a hand.”
Emmett snorts, and immediately regrets it when his hand rubs at his side.
“Good to know.”
The rough edge to his voice does nothing to help my ability to think.
By the time the bathroom door clicks shut, I’m left standing there, wondering why this man makes me forget how to function like the intelligent woman I am.
Shaking off the ridiculous effect a few words and one heated look from him seem to have on me, I retreat to the half bath. Just far enough for me to get myself together before circumstance shoves us back into the same space.
While he showers, I freshen up and change into a pair of black scrubs, trying and failing not to think about the fact that he’s naked in the other room.
Giving him space the last few days has left me walking around as a version of myself I don’t like—detached, unnatural, and wound so tight it’s only a matter of time before something snaps.
And if I’m being honest . . . I don’t think it’s doing Emmett any favors either. He’s used to being on his own, but not like thi—in someone else’s space, without his crew or work. Nothing but his own thoughts and silence to keep him company.
I send Atlas a quick text, and when he confirms he can help, I clutch the phone to my chest, letting go of some of the tension living between my shoulders.
It takes a village, and I’ve got one he can borrow.
Emmett’s spent years building walls.
Brick by brick.
And if all this town can do is build a ladder tall enough to climb over them . . . maybe that’s enough.
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
EMMETT
A wall of steam laden with Aspen’s minty scent clouds my mind. Any sanity I was clinging to when Aspen opened the door in her robe has vanished. Sure, it covered more skin than the T-shirt she was in last time, but the effect of her wet hair spilling over her shoulders and her tight nipples pressing against the material had the same devastating effect
Fighting my rising attraction to this woman is like pushing a boulder up a hill—one slip and I’m done. The kicker is, I’d take the crushing weight and thank her.
At least then I’d fucking feel something.
Adjusting the towel around my waist, I reach for my toothbrush and realize I forgot toothpaste.
Fuck.
I hesitate for half a second before reaching for the vanity drawer. I won’t be the reason Aspen is late.
The top drawer is full of makeup, hair ties, and enough chapstick to stock a pharmacy. The second, tampons. Stepping to the side, I pull open the top drawer on the opposite side.
Jackpot.
