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Zerostreet smarts—got it.
“I’m so sorry to ask, Digger, but I really don’t think I can do it on my own.” She pushed her face into my throat. “I’m so sorry. I’m such a baby.”
“A baby would have whined over the last nineteen hundred miles.” I rubbed my chin over her hair, thanking Christ for the thousandth time that it had been me manning the gates and not another brother. “You’re not a baby. You’re just tired.”
She was also lucky that I was a gentleman who’d been raised right. Despite my paternal parentage, Mom had done a bang-up job if I did say so myself.
Carefully, I propped her up for longer than I should’ve when she needed to soak. Still, I enjoyed how she leaned against me.
She was definitely a lightweight, but hell, my butt and shoulders were aching like fuckers too, and I was used to this.
I’d pushed us hard, though. I needed to be in Jersey yesterday, and we had to get this marriage signed and sealed so the Sinners would have both our backs.
“Your phone’s ringing,” she muttered sleepily as it started buzzing beside her ear.
I figured she knew I’d been ignoring it because the device sat in a pocket that she had to feel when she had her arms around my waist as we rode.
“It’ll wait.”
“Will it though?” When her weight sagged into me more, I rubbed her back and tried not to feel weird.
Weird as in…I didn’t know.Warm inside?
It made me want to touch her more.
No funny shit, just…touch.
I cleared my throat. “Are you going to be okay in the shower? You’re not going to fall over or anything? I can run a bath.”
“A bath sounds like heaven,” she mumbled drowsily.
“You can drown in a bath too,” I pointed out, amused.
“Yeah, but what a way to go.”
Pretty certain she was about to start snoring against me, I sighed. “Come on, let’s get you in the water.” I rested her against the vanity. “Keep the spaghetti limbs to a minimum,” I teased as I backed away and started filling the tub.
When it was a good temperature, I pushed in the plug and then left her there to return to the bedroom where she’d dropped the small bag with the stuff we’d purchased earlier.
Bringing it in with me, I grabbed the flowery body wash and deodorant she’d bought, squirted some soap into the water, tossed the deodorant onto the counter, and left the panties for her to deal with, knowing it would embarrass her if I handled them.
God, she was fucking cute.
As bubbles started popping into being, I turned to her and braced myself.
She was tired, fatigue etched into the lines of her face. Though she didn’t mean to look that way, the heavy lids gave her a ‘come hither’ air that reminded me of the sultry black and white movies Mom had devoured when I was growing up.
MaryCat was like that though—old-world glamor.
All that goddamn red hair and curves for a lifetime.
It was difficult, when I pressed my hands to the clothes she wore, not to feel as if I were a piece of shit for even touching her. Unworthy of breathing the same air as a goddess like her.
I shrugged off the thought because it was pointless and right now, I was the only thing keeping her away from having to marry that rapist fuck, Murphy.
I might not be old-world glamor, but at least I was helping her when few others would, especially in such a permanent way.
Tugging at the borrowed outerwear, I tossed it through the door, uncaring if it landed on the floor. After dragging off her longer tufted jacket, which had a fancy name but did fuck all to keep her warm, I pulled on her scarf next, then her gloves, and then her sweater.
