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Realizing she was flush against him, holding him, Tarley jerked back, scrambling to the opposite side of the tent, only there wasn’t enough room to maneuver. She regretted the quick movement, her body protesting with aches and pains of not enough sleep.
“Ollie. I–” She couldn’t meet his gaze.
“You were asleep.”
Her cheeks heated, realizing she’d been holding him in her sleep. Holding onto him the night she’d been trying to save him flashed in her mind, reminding her she’d held him before.To save him, she snapped at her inner self.
Her eyes danced across the quilt until she found the bravery to meet his gaze. She didn’t like being disoriented. It made her feel out of control and weak. She took a deep breath to slow her racing heart and closed her eyes to reset.
One.
Two.
Three.
Sleeping. She’d been sleeping. That was it.
She took another deep breath. When she opened her eyes, Ollie watched her, his head tilted slightly.
Calmly, she reached over to feel his forehead and decided to ignore the precarious position she’d awoken to find herself in. “You look rested,” she told him, noting he was still cool, and his color was good.
“So do you.” He grinned, showcasing lovely teeth.
Which made her want to growl in frustration as her eyes traced his smile lines before meeting his gaze once more. “Do you need some tonic for the pain? For your ribs?”
He shook his head, stretched some to test it and winced. “It hurts, yes, but at least I’m alive and awake.” He stopped, his eyes jumping around her face as she reached up to tuck her hair back into her braid. “Thanks to you–”
She was self-conscious suddenly, knowing she looked awful. Dirty and smelly for certain.
“You slept most of the morning. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you more room. Tried to move, but it was too difficult with the pain.”
Tarley shot up to her feet but crouched over in the tent. “You must be ready to try and eat, and I’ve slept the morning away.”
“A deserved rest–”
She backed toward the tent’s entrance.
“Wait,” he said, calling her back and looking away as if embarrassed. He sighed.
She stopped near his feet. “What is it?”
He scrubbed a hand over his face, the scratch of his beard loud against his palm. “I’m sorry to ask, but I really need to relieve myself.”
Her cheeks heated again. “Oh. Right.” She chastised herself for her response, severely annoyed by it, unsure why she was struggling around this man like a silly, blushing schoolgirl. He was just a man. She had done this before, for others. This was no different. She steeled herself and moved back toward him.
“It’s just difficult to get myself up and around,” he explained.
“Of course. Can you stand?” She knelt so he could use her shoulders for support.
Ollie, with her help, adjusted his body to a series of groans and grunts.
When the quilt dipped low enough in his lap to barely cover his nudity, Tarley averted her eyes, then grew angry with herself again for noticing. “Use my shoulder,” she said, with more irritation than she intended.
Taking her suggestion, Ollie reached out, sucking in a breath with what she figured was the pain that accompanied the exertion, and got to his feet, bent at the waist over her head. To her mortification, his pelvis was eye level. She was offered an eyeful of flat stomach arched with muscle, skin bunched around his belly button, and a trail of dark hair leading under the blanket loosely held in his closed fist, threatening to slide from his slim hips.
She averted her eyes, and in her rush to move, stood up, ramming the top of her head into Ollie’s.
He yelped.
