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“Well, I’m not letting you hop up the towpath.” Something sweet and wry brightened the blues in his eyes. “You’ll probably sprain your other ankle.”
And still unable to muster even a semblance of grace, I asked, “So what was thatwait a couple of dayscrap about?”
“Icebreaking isn’t great for the blacking,” Leo explained.
I gave him my bestand I should care about this whystare.
“The paint that protects the hull from rust and rubbing.”
“Right.”
“And pushing floating ice sheets around can damage other boats. But”—he tapped my knee gently—“I’ll be careful.”
Theoretically, the altruism of others should have made it easier to be selfish. But for some reason, it never fucking did. “Don’t do that,” I told him.
“Be careful?”
“Any of it.” I bit at the inside of my cheek. “It’s not necessary. I can wait a day or two, like you said.”
“I’m really not trying to keep you trapped on my boat, Marius.”
My mouth curled into something I had intended to be a sneer but might have been a smile. “Oh, woe is me. Trapped on a boat with a sexy man.”
“I suspect trapped is bad whatever the company.”
“I don’t feel trapped.” I almost wished I had. Because some part of me definitely feltrelieved—like I’d been searching for an excuse to stay this whole time—and that was humiliating.
And Leo had gone all earnest on me again. “I really will try to get you out of here as soon as I can,” he promised.
Which sent me spinning from “unable to be as selfish as I wanted” to “drowning in my own dickishness.” I twisted away slightly. “Don’t worry about it. You’ve been—you’re being very—” And now I couldn’t even look at him. “I’ll try to be a better guest, okay?”
“I’m not complaining.”
“Maybe you should.”
“After last night? You’ll be in my good books for a while.”
“You did get pretty lucky,” I conceded, grateful—ironically—that I’d escaped having to be grateful.
He laughed. “I did. Though I don’t think I’m much of a host.”
“Actually”—suddenly I found myself smiling down at him—“the accommodations were verywelcomingindeed. Five stars.”
His ears had gone sweetly pink. And I wondered if my ankle would withstand me pushing him over the nearest piece of furniture. Probably not.
“Can I get you anything, though?” he was asking.
My mind was still elsewhere. “What?”
“Since you’re staying. When did you last eat?”
“Yesterday evening.” Not a lie. Because there’d been the oplatki.
“And the water tank’s nearly full if you want to take a shower.”
I very much did want to take a shower. I just hadn’t given much thought to the logistics of hygiene while onboard. Thankfully, they turned out to be fairly straightforward. There was a chemical toilet about as well-kept as a chemical toilet could be and a shower unit that had been fitted with a pump to draw the water from the tray. While I had to be quick, the water was hot and the pressure adequate. I had, in fact, washed in far worse places. I half hopped, half hobbled out smelling of Leo’s soap—Imperial Leather—and Leo’s shampoo—Head & Shoulders—and then wrapped myself in Leo’s robe, which also smelled of his soap, his shampoo, and him.
Standing even for the length of time to shower had come close to tiring me out. Trying not to dwell on my ludicrous not-quite planof making my way up the towpath unaided, I dragged myself along the wall into the living area and collapsed onto the sofa. Where there was another ice pack waiting for me.
