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When she does pull back, she wipes her eyes and looks up at me. “Oh, Shane. I’m so sorry.”
“For what?”
“We haven’t even spoken in years, and then, when you come to help me, you end up holding me up in the shower while I cry.”
“You don’t need to be sorry about any of that.” I wipe a tear off her cheek before adding, “Can you steady yourself for just a second while I grab you a dry towel?”
She nods. “They’re under the sink.”
I wait until she’s steadied herself before hopping out to get her one. I hand it to her and turn around, trying to be as respectful as I can.
Once she’s wrapped in the clean, dry towel, I lift her out of the shower and carry her to the bedroom. She looks uncomfortable, but I don’t want her to hurt herself worse. While she gets dressed, I head back into the bathroom to clean up some water on the floor. It’s a little pointless, though, since I’m still also drenched.
A minute later, Jenna opens the bathroom door and walks in. Well, shehopsin. Grabbing a towel, she hands it to me.
“I know this may sound weird,” she begins. “But if you’ll give me your clothes, I’ll go stick them in the dryer.”
With a little bit of a cocky grin, I ask, “So, you want me to walk around in just a towel?”
Her cheeks flush the lightest shade of pink. “Well, that would make us even, right?” She jokes. “Besides, I think the least that I could do is dry your clothes and make you a cup of coffee.”
When I don’t immediately respond, she adds a tiny, “Please.”
“Okay, sounds good,” I reply with a smile.
She returns a grin. “Okay, great. I’ll go get started on the coffee.”
After she’s left the bathroom, I grab my phone off the sink and type out a message to my date.
Hey, something came up. Can we reschedule for tomorrow? I promise I’ll make it up to you.
I feel like a dick for canceling, but my conscience is a bit clearer when I get a response.
I ended up having to work late anyway. Tomorrow works perfectly.
Chapter Eleven
Jenna
I’m so embarrassed. No, I’m far beyond that. I’m mortified.
A guy I went to high school with—who I was drooling over earlier today—saw me half-naked and had to help me take a fucking shower.
I didn’t want any type of help from my mother, and divine intervention stepped in and made me need help from someone much harder to ask. Talk about getting a hefty dose of karma.
With my crutches tucked in my armpits, I make my way around the kitchen while I fix a pot of coffee.
When it’s finished, I take my time carrying the pot and two cups over to the small table. Luckily, I’m already sitting down when Shane comes walking in. If I wasn’t, I’m pretty sure I would’ve fallen right over.
He’s got the cream-colored towel wrapped around his waist, leaving the top half of him completely exposed. And boy, it’s a sight to see.
Although he’s got a bit of a farmer’s tan—or rancher’s tan—going on, I barely notice with how purely solid he is. His chest is broad and firm. At least, I assume it’s firm. I haven’t touched it or anything…yet. And he’s got just the right amount of chest hair.
My eyes travel down to his hard stomach. His abs aren’t overly defined, but they’re definitely muscular. And he’s got one of those sexy V things. It looks like a perfectly chiseled arrow pointing to the promised land.
Speaking of the promised land, my eyes move even lower to the noticeable bulge under the terrycloth material of the towel. I can’t see the whole thing, but I can see enough to be impressed.
I start to stand up to take his wet clothes from him, but he motions for me to sit back down.
