19. Chapter 19 #3
As the elevator doors closed on us, I dared to glance up at Kylan. His piercing eyes were sweeping over my shivering form, and he cursed before tearing the blanket away from me. “This is soaked. It’s only making you colder!” he barked.
“That’s … I guess that’s true,” I said, my teeth still chattering.
After a long beat of silence where he stared at the doors until they opened and then strode out of the elevator like the devil was after him, I spoke up.
“Hey.” When he didn’t seem to hear, I found the energy to speak a bit louder. “ Hey. Kylan .”
He halted and waited for me to catch up, saying nothing and looking in my direction but not at me .
“You could have just suggested I take off the cold blanket. Told me where we were going. Asked if you could haul me like a sack of potatoes.” My anger rising, I placed my shaking hands on my hips. “Show some d–damn respect.”
“Well, when you show up wearing that in a snowstorm and then expect to—”
“Since when is it your business what I wear and, for that matter, what I do?” I demanded, my voice becoming louder. “If I want to die in the snow, it’s my prerogative, dammit.”
He eyed me and said coldly, “You’re right. Fine.” He spun around and walked quickly, stopping at a door farther down the hall.
I attempted to calm my breathing as he unlocked a door and disappeared through it. “Wait!” I shouted, but it was futile, as he’d already closed the door. I walked slowly toward the door, dread but also resignation growing with every step. What had I been thinking?
Sure, he’d been a total jerk, but I do need his help.
Crap.
Just as I was about to knock on the door, I noticed it wasn’t fully closed and took a steadying breath of the blissfully warm air around me before slowly pushing the door open.
He was sitting on a chair near the door, removing his wet winter gear, and he didn’t look up.
“Kylan,” I started, trying to stop shaking, only partly from the cold at this point. “Thanks for helping me. I, uh, I know you meant well.”
His response was something like a grunt, and he glanced up only briefly before gathering up his wet things.
I swallowed with some effort. He wasn’t going to make this easy.
“I have no way to get home, and I … well, I wouldn’t ask a friend to pick me up in this weather.
” My brow furrowed. “I just realized I don’t even have my phone.
I must have left it in my car just before dropping my keys into the snowy abyss. ”
He slowly rose from his seat and stared at me. He started to turn, and I realized he was going to make me ask .
“Kylan, wait—” I called out. “Can I … stay here for a bit? Until it’s safe to go? Not too long.” I tried to remember what the weather forecast had said. Snow until 3:00 am, I thought, but I couldn’t trust my memory now.
He halted but didn’t turn around fully. “It’s fine. Kelly’s out of town. I’m going to bring the wet things to the laundry,” he said in a tone with forced civility. As I wondered if that was an invitation to follow, he said, “Don’t follow me.”
I stared after his retreating form as he disappeared down the hallway.
His sister’s name is Zophie, so who the heck is Kelly?
And why can’t I bring my wet stuff to the laundry too, if I’m to stay here?
I folded my arms over my drenched chest and sighed deeply. It was perhaps fortunate that I was fuming; the flames of indignation were the only thing keeping me warm.
Minutes later, Kylan finally reemerged, only to disappear into a different room from the hallway. I scoffed and considered shouting his name. What did he expect me to do?
Before I could vocalize my discontent, he strode out of the second room armed with a fluffy pink robe and oversized thick blue slippers. “Here, put these on,” he said as he placed the slippers on the floor in front of me.
I raised my eyebrows as our eyes met.
He sighed in frustration. “Please put on the slippers,” he said slowly, as though talking to a wayward child.
“Then, I’ll show you to the bathroom, where we’ll draw a warm bath.
” When my eyes widened, he added quickly, “For you. A bath for you. We need to get you warm as soon as we can. I worry about hypothermia. I’m surprised you don’t have frostbite. ”
“Well, how would you know?” I asked, biting my lip. “You haven’t asked.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Do you? ”
I shook my head. “I am so cold though. I feel like … like I’ll never be warm again. Like the cold has seeped into my bones, my very soul.”
Seeing his alarmed expression, I tried to laugh. “I mean, I’m half-kidding. Not quite that bad, but I don’t think I’ve ever been this cold before. I didn’t grow up making snow angels as a kid, after all.”
He nodded, a serious expression on his face, and gestured toward my feet. “Do you need help removing your boots and putting the slippers on?”
The last thing I wanted was for him to touch my feet, or touch me anywhere again, and he surely wanted to avoid further contact as well. I shook my head as I bent down and peeled the boots—which were really more style than substance—off my numb feet.
After I followed him to the bathroom, he sat on the edge of the large tub and turned on the faucet, testing the water temperature until it was slightly steaming.
I stood there, still shaking … it must be from the chill.
Though it was quite warm in here. I bit my lip hard, trying to see if it was still numb. “Can you, um, leave?”
He rose to his feet and eyed me briefly. “Yes. Obviously.” Before he crossed the threshold though, he pointed toward the linen closet. “Towels are in there.”
“Thanks,” I said, thinking that was unnecessary. Towels were usually in linen closets.
He said nothing as his eyes focused on the floor. Finally, he cleared his throat. “Do you need any assistance?”
“No,” I said quickly.
Just as rapidly, he said, “Right.” He dashed out of the room before closing the door firmly.
I blew out a long breath before walking over to the tub.
I was still shaking as I pried off my thin, soaked dress and underthings, leaving them in a heap on the floor.
A quick glance in the mirror told me I looked like the dead.
My usually shiny red hair was a cold, wet rat’s nest, and my skin was damp and mostly pale, with some blotchy red areas.
I squeezed my eyes shut to clear out the hideous image and stepped into the steaming tub.
These are the fires of hell. I winced as I sank into the hot water. The last thought I remembered being conscious of before my body just took over, succumbing to the healing and relaxation, was Paradise .
Some time later, in a vague region between wakeful bliss and gentle dozing, I heard tapping.
My senses slowly reawakening, I realized it was the sound of knocking and was growing louder and faster.
As I started to gather the strength to sit up from my reclining position, the door burst open, and my eyes met Kylan’s, which were frantic.
I gasped softly, and he averted his eyes. “You weren’t answering, and it had been a long time. I was worr—uh—” He stopped to clear his throat. “I wanted to see if you were still alive.”
I laughed, because … why not? This night could not get any stranger or more uncomfortable, could it? “Quite alive.”
“Ah, that—” he started, and his eyes met mine for a half a second before he turned away. “I’m going to go,” he said, flattening his lips as he turned to leave.
I watched the infuriating man walk out the door again.
Sighing, I grabbed the soap nearby and finished washing up before rising to towel off.
A thick robe was on a wooden stool nearby, complete with matching pink fuzzy socks and slippers.
Realizing I’d be spending time in Kylan’s presence without underwear or a bra, I shivered, whether from the cold or not, I wasn’t sure.
I didn’t even know what time it was. Hopefully I could just rest on a couch for a couple hours until my clothes dried and the weather settled down.
I found a hairbrush and even some makeup. The hairbrush appeared unused, and I was desperate, so I used it. Still, I wasn’t about to try another woman’s makeup, and it would look odd if I wore makeup now anyway, wouldn’t it? I sighed, examining my reflection, still pale but a bit less so.
After leaving the bathroom, I clutched the robe tightly to my chest, despite tying it in a double knot at my waist, and wandered slowly to an open area with dim lighting. It appeared to be the living room, where Kylan was staring into the fireplace.
“Hi,” I said. What else could I say?
He turned his head slowly and waved me over. “How are you?” he asked with a guarded expression. His eyes swept over my face and any bit of exposed skin. Appearing satisfied that I wasn’t at death’s door, he sat back. “You look a bit better.”
“Uh, thanks?” I said with a wry smile. “The bath was heavenly. I still feel like I got run over by a truck made of ice, but I think a little rest will help. Do you mind if I, um—”
“Rest and warmth will indeed do wonders,” Kylan agreed. “But I’d like to see you get some fluids, food, check your temperature. Can you stay awake for a bit?”
I frowned. “I don’t know if all that’s necessary.”
“I just want to make sure you’re OK. Humor me,” he said with pleading eyes.
My own eyes softened. He did look genuinely worried, and I was ready to concede for the moment.
Before I could speak though, he added dryly, “Can’t have an employee dying at my house now, can I?”
Ouch.
He seemed to realize immediately it was the wrong thing to say, observing my lips pressed together in a thin line and my eyes downcast. “I was joking,” he said, sounding contrite.
“I’m … uh, not great at the caregiver thing.
Sorry. I’ll be right back with some food and drink. You like hot chocolate, right?”
I nodded. He remembered that? But then I shook my head.
Nearly everyone likes hot chocolate, dummy. It doesn’t mean he remembers anything .