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He turned his head to face the woods, and she glanced down. The drenched pink nighty left nothing to the imagination. Mud-caked and all. She cringed and crossed her arms to cover her breasts.
He waved a hand in the direction of her tent. “Why on earth did you set up at the bottom of a hill? That’s on the fall line of the slope and why the concrete slab is up here.”
“I had my reasons. Not your problem. And you aren’t supposed to help me anyway. You’re in breach of contract, and Sydney’s gonna see that on the video.”
That should shut him up.
He scoffed. “For the record, I’m allowed to intervene in safety matters and you falling on your ass every two steps in a mudslide qualifies as one. You’re a danger to yourself.”
Screw him. She didn’t need his attention or approval.
Another blast of wind caused her teeth to chatter, and she shivered so hard her whole body shook. “Y-You—”
“Enough. Go inside and take a warm shower. I’ll grab your bag.” He stomped toward the hill, where she’d dropped the suitcase.
Ugh, that flippant, arrogant asshole. He had no right to order her around. She yanked the door open and tried to slam it, but the stupid thing closed slowly.
She stopped cold at her reflection in the mirror. Holy crap, she looked like a drowned flamingo. Good thing the lighting was poor in the storm. The rain should have blurred the video recording on the stationary cameras. If Trevor did come up with some footage, Crystal wouldn’t approve the usage. She’d have the final say. That way they couldn’t embarrass her on film.
She squinted at the light shining in through the bathroom window. Zach had to have gotten a good look at her up close.
Her cheeks heated. Even though he’d averted his gaze at the bathroom entrance, he’d still carried her up the freaking hill and damn it, she’d clung to him like a frightened kitten. She should have forced him to put her down instead of breathing in his scent and burying her face against his warm neck.
Maybe between the wild weather and the slippery slope he hadn’t noticed she’d curled into his arms. That’s all she could hope for.
She made her way around the corner to the shower stalls and turned on the water. While she waited for it to warm up, the bathroom door opened, and Zach called out, “Not coming in, just leaving your bag.”
Thump.
Maybe she’d find something dry in it to wear. No telling.
She took her time in the shower, enjoying the warm water. As she rinsed her hair, a knock sounded on the door.
“Me again, dropping off another bag. Still not coming in,” Zach called.
A softer thud this time. What was that?
She wrung out her hair and peeked around the corner at the vacant bathroom. Her suitcase was on the floor next to a half-filled, black trash bag.
Dripping wet and shivering again, she dashed across the room, snatched up both, and hurried back to the shower stall area. She unzipped the case and stuck her hand inside, rummaging through her clothes in search of anything dry.
Nope. All wet.
Her stomach sank, and goosebumps formed on her arms.
She should have gotten a hard-shell suitcase, but the bright pink canvas one had called to her. She’d never expected to need a weatherproof bag when she’d bought one a year ago.
With shaking fingers, she opened the black trash bag and almost wept at the sight of dry towels. She wrapped one around her and made a turban for her hair with the other.
Bundled up, she pulled out an olive-drab T-shirt and a black pair of sweatpants. She held them to her cold face, and her heart tripped.
She knew that scent.
She should put the clothes back in the bag. She should tell him she didn’t need his charity. She should stop smelling the dang shirt and fantasizing about someone who annoyed the ever-living shit out of her.
And yet, she stood there, holding the shirt.
Grizzly made it hard for her to hate him when he showed his soft side.
