Chapter 6
Chapter Six
GRIFFIN
Juliette didn’t let go of me the entire way back to the campsite. If she wasn’t holding my hand, her arm was around my waist. And she hardly said a word. Just kept glancing over at me like I might vanish.
A middle-aged couple had heard what happened and insisted on feeding us. We ended up in camp chairs in front of their RV. We both had a plateful of steaming hot food in our laps—Dutch Oven Chicken and something called Cowboy Potatoes—loaded with bacon, peas, and gooey cheddar cheese.
I was still in my swim trunks and damp T-shirt. Juliette had shivered uncontrollably in her soaked tank top until I helped her peel it off, leaving just her bikini top. Now she sat next to me in her bikini top and running shorts, the setting sun on her shoulders.
Word had gotten around and strangers kept stopping by to thank us for our bravery. I tried to make small talk, but every time I looked at her, the words dried up. She’d hardly touched her food. Just stared at it, her foot hooked around my ankle.
Solstice, the British woman and co-owner of the camper, stepped outside with two paper bowls of some kind of dessert, each topped with a generous dollop of whipped cream. “Right, who’s up for a bit of apple crisp then?”
“You don’t need to do that,” I said. “It was nice of you to share your dinner with us. Not sure I’ve ever eaten anything more delicious.” I winked. “Don’t tell my mom.”
“Oi, you—quit that.” She pursed her lips. “It was nothing. We were happy to do it.”
Solstice’s German husband, Leif, came out of the camper and nodded at Juliette. “I think she might be in shock, ja?”
I thought so too. “Jules,” I said, the nickname slipping off my tongue like I’d called her that for years. “Let’s go to the hospital and make sure you’re all right.” It was the third time I’d suggested it.
“No.” She smiled, but it trembled at the edges. “I’ll be fine. I just need a few minutes.” Her smile faded, and she stared at her food like she wasn’t fully there.
“A warm shower might be just the thing,” Solstice suggested, setting the desserts on a log by our feet.
Leif jingled his keys. “We’re going to the store to get some provisions for breakfast. Why not use our shower, eh?”
“No.” I waved them off. “That’s okay—”
“Nonsense,” Solstice said. “You Americans and your fuss about manners. Just use our shower. You’ll feel a lot better when you’re clean and dry. We’ve got all the bits you need—shampoo, conditioner, body wash. Use whatever you like.”
“Clean towels are in the cabinet in the hall,” Leif said.
“Yes, sir. Thank you both so much.”
They walked away holding hands.
“He is such a gentleman,” Solstice whispered to Leif. “Reminds me of you.”
He pressed a kiss to her temple. They turned the corner and were gone.
Juliette was still in a daze. I set her plate on the chair next to mine. Then I stood, leaned down, and took her by the hands.
She looked up at me, her eyes so big and sad.
“Come on.” I squeezed her fingers. “Let’s get you clean.”
Inside, as I searched for the towel cabinet, she huddled next to me, delicate hands hooked around my arm like she was afraid to let go of me. When I reached into the tiny shower to turn it on, she leaned with me, her fingers locked around my bicep.
It took a while for the water to heat, but when it finally did, I opened the curtain just enough for her. “I’ll wait on the couch,” I said. I took a step back, though my body screamed to stay.
She just stood there, lips trembling, hugging herself, looking panicked.
“Hey, are you sure you don’t need to go to the hospital?” I asked.
She shook her head, but she didn’t move. Then a tear escaped and another. She wiped them away, trying to hide the fact that she was crying. Oh man.
I pulled her into my arms. “Do you want me to stay?” My heart went wild in my chest.
She nodded, her head on my shoulder, arms locked around my back.
“Okay.” I swallowed, already regretting this. “Are you wearing your bikini bottoms underneath those shorts?”
She nodded again.
I stepped back just enough to undo her drawstring, fingers shaking. Easing the fabric down her thighs sent a sharp heat through me. I peeled off my shirt in one quick motion and dropped it on top of her shorts, then stepped into the shower, guiding her in after me.
The water hit us, soothing and warm, and it nearly undid me being in there with her. As water ran down her shoulders, her stomach, her cleavage, she was somewhere far away. Meanwhile, I was nowhere but here.
Focus, moron. Focus on her. Not her body.
I had to get her to snap out of this state.
“Is it okay if I wash your hair?” I asked.
She nodded just barely, her hands resting on my sides.
I poured an ample amount of shampoo into the palm of my hand. Then I worked it into her hair with my fingers.
As I massaged, her shoulders relaxed, and she closed her eyes. I, on the other hand, was coming apart.
But I was determined to forget myself and take care of her.
So I kept going, massaging slow circles at her temples, her crown, the nape of her neck.
I shifted her so she was directly under the water.
She tipped her head back, letting the water run down her hair.
Her neck begged me to kiss it. But I didn’t.
I just squeezed her hair until it ran clear, drinking in her beauty.
Then I repeated the process with the conditioner, every second stretching into the cruelest kind of torture.
I grabbed the body wash, my chest tight, unable to fully exhale, and started at her shoulders.
Every pass of my hands over her skin pulled at something I was trying very hard to ignore.
I focused on steady breaths, pretending this wasn’t breaking my self-control apart.
But it was impossible. Especially when she turned and lifted her hair so I could wash her back.
Man, that back. My gaze fell on the hook of her bikini top.
Like I was locked in a staring contest with the devil himself, I couldn’t look away.
What was wrong with me? I’d turned her down at the restaurant, and now, in a moment when she was completely vulnerable, my thoughts were running rampant, like I’d forgotten all the values I’d been raised on.
I squeezed my eyes shut and breathed it out, trying to calm a lifetime of dammed hormones. I want a love like my parents. A love like my parents. A love like my parents.
Then I knelt to scrub the dirt from her calves. But that put me at eye level with her bottom. So I slid around to her front side, looking for somewhere safe to avert my eyes. Okay, that was worse.
Her stomach could be safe. Nope. It was so flat and smooth, it took everything in me not to press a kiss over her belly button. I glanced up to see if she was doing any better, but her eyes were still closed, her expression blank.
I had to get my crap together. It’s just a body. Everyone has one. Pretend it’s someone you’ve never even thought about. But I couldn’t. Just being next to her unraveled me. Why had I agreed to do this? Absolute masochism.
Finally, I was done with her legs. I popped to a full stand, and that’s when I noticed the shower was helping. Her eyes were still closed, but her breathing had slowed to normal. Apparently, we’d traded lungs, because mine were hitching all over the place.
“I think you’re clean,” I said, fingers locked straight at my sides.
Her focus snapped back. “Oh…I’ll do your hair,” she said in a hush, some of the light back in her eyes.
“Okay.” I gave her a small smile, afraid that if I showed too much emotion, it might spook her and send her spiraling again. I tipped forward so she could reach the top of my head. But she never made it to the shampoo.
Her fingers curled in my hair and she pressed a soft kiss to my crown.
“You saved me.” Another kiss. “You saved me.” Another.
“You saved me,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around my neck, her chest flush against mine.
Oh, good grief. “You could’ve died,” she whimpered.
“But you jumped in and saved me anyway.”
“Hey,” I soothed, rubbing her lower back. My entire body shook from the intensity of my heartbeat. “You’re safe now. Of course, I saved you. What did you expect me to do?”
She pressed her cheek to mine. “I need to confess something. Something I’m not proud of. But I don’t care. Even if it’s selfish, I need to tell you.” She paused like she was waiting for me to ask what, but I couldn’t.
I couldn’t even breathe. Finally, I got out a grunt.
“As you were calling my name,” she whispered.
“All I kept thinking was, I want that voice to put me to sleep every night. I want to have his babies and sign my name next to his on the mortgage. Not his stupid wife.” She squeezed my shoulders, almost a shake.
“That’s why I fought. So I could steal you like some common criminal. ”
If I hadn’t been so shocked, I would’ve laughed. Instead, I just blinked, replaying her words.
Because there was no way.
She placed a barely-there kiss on the corner of my mouth. “Aren’t you going to say something?” Then another on the other corner.
She wanted me to form actual words right now?
Her expression fell. “Oh.” She stumbled backward. “Don’t mind me. I didn’t just confess that I had overwhelming feelings for you or anything.” She flipped around, hugging herself. Then she cracked her head against the shower wall. “I’ll just be dying in the corner.”
I grabbed her by the waist and guided her back into my arms. Chest to chest, close enough to share breath, we stood there.
After swallowing three times, the words “Four percent” came out, warbly and weak, like a deathbed confession.
She scowled, probably questioning my mental state. “Four percent? Four percent of what?”
“That’s all the padding I have left before I’m all the way in love with you.”