Catching Sparks (Cherry Peak Book 2)

Once I’ve soakedmy face with cold tap water, I dab at the scratches on my chest with my wet fingers. She got me good, deep enough to have drawn blood before the cuts crusted up. They sting as the water clears away the blood smears, and I use the discomfort to reel myself back in.

Once they’re clean, I take the purple hand towel from the rack and dry my face and then my chest. I’m tired, my energy fading the longer I stand here. The drive back to the ranch is daunting as I hang the towel up and find a clean cloth from the cabinet before heading back to the bedroom.

My steps falter when I find Poppy asleep, splayed out on the rumpled comforter with her arm thrown over her eyes and lips parted. Her breaths are loud and heavy, and I consider how long I was held up in the bathroom for her to get that deep in sleep. I didn’t think it was that long.

With quick movements, I collect my clothes and get dressed. Then, I set my hands on my hips and stare at her, contemplating what to do next. Surely I have to get her cleaned up and in bed properly. She can’t go to work tomorrow with sore muscles and knots in her neck from lying in such a terrible position. I can’t imagine holding herself up on a pole would feel great with that sort of discomfort. It’s bad enough leaning over a desk with a twinge in your shoulder, let alone what she does every day.