Chapter 2 #2
The permanent frown on Stu’s face deepens. “What, is it illegal to be helpful now? Or are you the only one who gets to be a hero around here?”
If I wasn’t holding a beautiful ice cube of a woman in my arms, I’d grab Stu by the scruff and toss him onto the beach. Some days he knows how to poke a finger into what hurts. “You want to be helpful,” I say, my voice tight with barely restrained anger, “take my dog home.”
Luckily, Nate has no problem with slamming doors. After he thrusts Tink’s leash at Stu, he sends the door home with a loud thud.
I relax slightly with Stu handled. Though now there’s still the matter at hand. Or rather, in my hands.
But I can feel the woman looking at me. She’s harder to ignore than the tourists who come into my bar and giggle aggressively from their tables.
She swallows. “I think I can st-stand now.”
I don’t want to, but I set her down on her feet.
“Go grab all the sweaters in my office,” I say to my son.
Nate chews his lip.
Hurt plucks at my chest. He doesn’t know his way around his dad’s bar because he’s refused to spend any time here since he got here. “There!” I point my chin to the door on the far side of the bar.
Nate takes off, darting easily around the tables and chairs in his way.
“Kid barely picks up a dish at home,” I grumble. “You come along, and he’s breaking speed records.”
“I should s-s-swim more often.”
I scowl at her. “You can joke when you’re not hypothermic.”
Her teeth clack together like a tap dancer.
I can’t just cover up her wet clothes. I need to get her warmer faster.
“Change of plans,” I tell Nate as I redirect the woman toward the kitchen.
“There’s a box in the shed at home.” Our place is a half-mile down the beach from the bar.
There’s a detached room off the back deck that’s supposed to be a guest cabin, even though it’s just a loft with a tiny powder room.
I use it to store things that hurt to look at.
My sister’s stuff, mostly. “The box says Annie on it. Grab a pile of clothes out of there and bring them back here.” My little sister’s got about a foot on her, but something in there’s got to fit.
And Annie won’t miss it; she hasn’t been back here in a decade.
Nate nods, and once again, he’s off. I can’t help the wash of pride I feel at how capable he’s been through all of this. I might even forgive him for staying up again last night.
I lead the woman across the kitchen, grabbing a stack of soft, clean bar towels as I pass the linen shelves.
But when she sees our destination, she pulls up short. “You’re not serious.”
I turn on the hose at my industrial sink, adjusting the water to the right temperature. “Of course I am.”
“I’m not getting in the sink!”
I stick the plug in the bottom. “I have a great dishwasher; he scrubs the sink down every night.”
“I said I’m not getting in the s-s-s-sink. I just need to find a hotel. Then I’ll be out of your h-h-hair.”
I rest my hands on the edge of the stainless-steel basin, letting out a long breath.
Then I turn around, the tub still filling behind me.
“Listen. I’ll make you a deal. If you get in there and warm up, I’ll make you a club sandwich.
I make the best club in town.” It’s the only club in town if you don’t count the abomination of a sandwich they serve at the truck stop down the road.
She still looks hesitant.
“Plus, I’ve got an espresso machine out there. You seem like a…” I look her up and down, realizing too late how that looks—and how it felt to take in her wet clothes clinging to her. I clear my throat and turn back to the sink. “Like a London Fog kind of girl.”
With the little intake of air, I know I’m right. Hazard of working in beverages for the past twenty years. “We’ll deal with everything else later. For now, please just get in the warm water before you break your back from shivering.”
For a moment, I think she might have disappeared. Then I hear a sigh. A moment later, she stands next to me, struggling to pull off her suit jacket. “Can you…”
I nod, coming behind her and peeling it off her, inside out. Even though I’m behind her, I look skyward to avoid her blouse, which, from the flash of nude bra strap, I’m painfully aware is fully transparent. I turn around and sling it over the counter behind me.
I don’t know how much she’s taking off, so I press my palms onto the opposite counter, my back to her.
“I’m going to stand like this, okay?” I should leave altogether to give her privacy and to get my pulse back to its normal rhythm.
But she’s not exactly stable on her feet.
I decide to risk walking around to another work area.
I’m far enough away to give the illusion of privacy, but I can still hear her.
I hear the swish of wet fabric, then a soft splat as something hits the floor. Another follows a moment later. My heart clunks against my ribs, my brain in a cage match with itself to try not to visualize what’s happening.
“Hey, um…” she says.
“Yes?” I croak.
“I think I n-n-need a b-b-boost?”
Fuck. I should have brought a stool over. I still could, but I can hear the faint clack-clack-clack of her teeth.
“I, uh…” Shit. “Are you okay? I can close my eyes.”
“It’s f-f-fine. I think I’m p-p-past the p-p-point of humil—hum—”
Fuck it. She’s going to freeze to death. I clench my jaw and look up as I walk over, catching a glimpse of a nude lace bra. Then I scoop her off her feet and set her in the tub.
The moment I’m sure she’s in there safely, I whirl back around, running my hand through my hair.
Except once she’s in the water, she lets out this long sound that might be pain. I chance a look over my shoulder to see her sinking down in the water.
I tense, ready to rush back, but she only submerges herself for a moment. And when she comes back up, her hair is slicked back from her face, her eyes closed, mouth slightly parted.
And goddamn if that expression doesn’t make that warmth in my chest come back.
I swallow hard, willing myself to turn away.
To think of how thoroughly I’ll have to scrub the sink to make it food safe again.
Hell, I even try to think about what Stu would say if he saw a woman in my sink.
He’d be on the phone with the health inspector before I could blink.
Unlike the time I served him tuna tartare, this time he’d actually have a case.
But just as I’m about to spin around and give her some space, God help me, she starts to laugh.
The woman tilts her beautiful face back, throws her arm over her forehead, and laughs.
The sound sends little tickles like brushing wings all the way over me, right down to my toes in my sturdy Blundstone boots.
“You okay?” I manage to grunt out.
“It was the camel,” she says, nonsensically.
“The camel broke my back. Or was it hers? Also, I’m in a sink.
” She gasps, she’s laughing so hard. “I’m in a sink at a bar.
I swam here!” She laughs so hard she curls up and then lies back again.
Water splashes everywhere. It even reaches me.
Then she hooks one leg over the edge of the basin.
Seeing her glossy pantyhose-clad leg is too much.
“I’m going to give you a few minutes,” I say.
I don’t even know if she heard me.
I leave the bar at a stride so fast it’s practically running.
I can’t get out of there fast enough. When I crash through the door, I slip sideways to the wall and tip my head back against it, eyes closed.
I press my hand against the cool wood paneling.
Only somehow the wall seems to curve against my hand, transforming itself into that curve of her waist again.
I clench and unclench my hands, but the feeling doesn’t leave. It melds into me like it’s writing itself into my DNA.
I don’t know what the hell that feeling was, seeing her relax like that—my guts feel scraped out—but I never want to feel it again.
I need to stay as far away from her as possible. Because this woman—she makes me feel like I want to know her. To be around her. To look out for her.
And the only person I need to look out for is my son. The last thing he needs is for another woman to come breezing in and out of his life again.
Given the impossibility of needing to stay away from her with her current predicament, I decide I just won’t look at her again.
And I’ll work to get her out of my bar as soon as fucking possible.