Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 58342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
“Being on the road doesn’t make for good relationships.”
“It must be lonely.”
“It’s too busy to get lonely. I’m surrounded by my team every minute of the day.”
I unwrap a bar of soap and put it in the water, then lather it between my hands. “You probably don’t snuggle with them, though.”
He responds with a single note of laughter. “Nope, no snuggling with the team.”
I wash my face first, then sit up, my eyes locked on his back as I rub soapy lather over my neck, chest and breasts.
“What about you? Do you have a boyfriend back home?”
“No. I hadn’t even been on a date in more than a year when I went out with Ronan. I regret saying yes to him, obviously.”
“How long did you guys date?”
“We went out twice.”
“No shit? That’s it?”
I continue washing my body, realizing I haven’t thought about the Ronan situation at all since the plane crash. “Yeah, that’s it.”
“How’d you guys meet?”
“In line at a coffee shop.”
He grunts in response, and I can’t read the meaning of it. I submerge my head in the water to wet it and then grab the shampoo from the shelf next to the tub. When I see the label—Philip B Amber Imperial Shampoo—I blurt out, “Holy shit.”
“What?” Lincoln turns his head to the side and I cry out, plunging myself back into the water.
“Don’t look! That was just my reaction to this shampoo. It’s a crazy expensive brand.”
“Oh.”
“I feel bad even using this.”
“Don’t. I’ll pay the cabin owner back for everything we use.”
I smile as I open the shampoo. Again, he’s making me feel like we’re an us. I’ve never truly been part of an us. My first boyfriend, who I met in college, went to a different school than I did, so we didn’t spend a lot of time together. My second boyfriend was an attorney who worked crazy hours and we only saw each other once or twice a week.
“Maybe I can write a guest blog for a beauty magazine after this,” I say as I lather my hair. “Best beauty products to use when you’re stranded in the wilderness.”
He hums his amusement. “Probably not many people in that situation.”
“True. This shampoo smells like heaven.”
I close my eyes, breathing in the warm amber scent mingled with the coconut-scented bubble bath. With the crackle of the blazing fire, this feels like a luxury spa.
At least until I open my eyes again. Lincoln is still sitting with his back to me, looking at nothing but the cabin wall.
“I’m craving a chocolate shake,” he says.
“That sounds incredible. With six inches of whipped cream on top.”
I wash, rinse and condition my hair, feeling more like myself than I have since the crash. If I was alone in the cabin, I’d sit here for a long time, but I feel bad about Linc staring at the wall.
I’ve put my hands on the sides of the tub, ready to get out, when I realize I forgot something crucial.
“I don’t have a towel.”
“I can get you one. Where are they?”
My heart races at the thought of him seeing me naked. How could I forget about a towel?
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen any.”
There’s a second of silence before he says, “Want me to look in the storage room?”
“No! Stay where you are. I’ll figure it out.”
I sit up in the tub, crossing my arms over my chest and looking around. There’s nothing within my reach but the little rug next to the tub.
“There are dish towels in the kitchen,” Linc offers. “In the drawer by the coffee maker.”
I can’t walk across the cabin while soaking wet. I’d get the floors wet and have to turn my back to him to get the towels. I briefly consider just living in the bathtub forever.
“Will you blindfold yourself and get me a couple of towels?”
He scoffs, amused. “No. I could trip over something and hurt myself and I’m the only able-bodied person here.”
Good point. I sigh softly.
“Hey Trin, are you covered in scales or something?”
I furrow my brow. “No.”
“I’m not going to look, and even if I did, you’ve got a great body.”
My lips part and my pulse pounds, my inner feminist wilting at how good his compliment makes me feel.
“It’s not about whether you’d like it. I’m a private person.”
“Do you want me to get you the towels or not?”
I sink down below the water’s surface from the neck down again. “Yes. Throw them over here or something.”
He moves from the bed, my gaze tracking him as he walks across the cabin to the kitchen and gets out two towels. Looking down at the ground, he approaches me, my heart hammering like a drum.
Half of me wants him to look and half of me doesn’t. He shields his eyes as he drops the two towels onto the rug beside the bathtub.