Thirty-two
THIRTY-TWO
Bea
I jerked out of sleep as pain shot through my leg. I wailed in the darkness, fumbling with the constricting quilt. In a flash, Tag was by my side.
“Bea!”
I tried to pull my toes upward, but the cramp was too intense. I gasped, “My…leg.”
Tag pulled the quilt off me and picked up my ankle, pressing against the ball of my foot. I moaned and gripped the covers, a full sweat breaking out over my body. I kept my eyes squeezed shut as I writhed.
“Shh. It’s alright.” Tag pressed the ball of my foot deeper. His sleepy voice was low and gravelly, more drawly than normal. “You’ve got a heat cramp. You’re gonna be alright.”
I couldn’t speak.
“I used to get these all the time. After the day we had yesterday, it’s no wonder.”
“It’s…awful.” I sucked air through clenched teeth.
“I know. Shh. Focus on breathin’ deep.”
I took shaky, deep breaths as he prompted .
After a few, quiet moments, I relaxed and Tag slowly released the pressure on my toes. Instantly, the cramp came back and I tensed again, cussing.
“This one’s gonna be stubborn.” He pushed my foot back, whispering, “We’ll wait it out.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’ve got nothin’ to apologize for. You drinkin’ enough?”
“I thought I was.”
“More today. I want you startin’ the day with those electrolytes we bought.”
“Yes, coach.”
His soft chuckle put a smile on my face.
“My calf muscle is pulsing.”
“I bet.” While one hand held my foot, the other slid up my ankle and to my calf. He kneaded the tender muscle, his thumb gently digging into my flesh. Goosebumps rippled down my arms as I grunted.
“That feels bad?”
I almost laughed out loud at the absurdity. On the contrary, cowboy. “It’s fine.”
I peeked my eyes open and instantly wished I’d kept them closed. The eyeful I received was a mental image I definitely did not need in my memory bank.
Shirtless Tag, kneeling on the semi mattress, was leaning down because of the overhead shelves. Basically, leaning over me. My eyes were adjusted enough to the dark gray interior of the semi to see his forearm gently twitching as he worked on my calf. His hair was adorably disheveled, the waistband of his shorts a bit low on his hips.
Heat rushed through my veins like a warm intravenous drip.
Good gracious.
I remembered Jackie’s stupid picture request. A week into my stay she realized I wasn’t going to deliver and settled for an IOU. She would love every juicy detail of a moment like this.
“You stopped breathin’. Come on.”
Um, hello, I’m trying? If he would back the heck up, it would be a smidge easier .
I closed my eyes to block him out, but it was no use. He was seared into my memory forever. So I opened them again, might as well.
I took on a facetious tone. “You know, my entire body is hurting. Not just my calf muscle.”
He chuckled again, his head dropping down a little. So close.
“Sorry, Bea. I’m not a masseuse.”
“Peter’s fiance, Sarah, is.”
“Lucky man.”
I laughed then. “She’s rubbed my neck before.”
“Amazing?”
“She has some skills, definitely.”
“Are your neck and shoulders still stiff?”
“Very. I can’t even turn my head.”
He tested the pressure on my foot, releasing ever so slowly. “Tell me if you feel it comin’ back.” He gently set my heel back on the bed. “Better?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
“Turn over on your stomach.”
The heat in my body shot to boiling, but I obeyed. He caught my offending leg and tucked the quilt in a wad under my ankle, so my toe wouldn’t point and cramp all over again. I shoved my hands under the pillow, wondering why he requested this. My heart thumped against the mattress as Tag moved to sit next to me. He reached up, his hands connecting with my shoulders.
A shoulder massage? Yes, please.
“This alright?”
I groaned in response, my eyes rolling back into my head as his thumbs grazed the sore spots around my spine.
Yes. Yes, a thousand times .
“Probably won’t be as good as Sarah, but at least it’s something.”
No offense to Sarah, but Tag’s massage was far better.
For a few long minutes, his hands infused life into my aching shoulders, neck, and arms. I drooled onto the pillow, dissolving into the mattress. He asked me a question, but I couldn’t even pick out the words .
He leaned closer, and a feather-light touch skimmed down my hair. His whisper was barely audible. “You awake?”
I couldn’t pull myself out of the haze enough to answer.
The mattress moved. To my delight, Tag had shifted down, stretched out, and laid his head on his folded elbow. His other hand still moved across my shoulders, meandering from one to the other, then lazily down my spine. All the way to the waistline of my pajama bottoms then back.
After a while, his hand dragged through the length of my hair. Again and again.
A couple times, his hand stopped, growing heavy against my head. Then he’d startle and drag his fingers through again.
I wanted to live in this moment for the rest of my life. His tender ministrations toward me made tears prick my eyes and leave a sliver of moisture on the pillowcase.
I laid like a statue, afraid he’d stop if I moved. I hadn’t moved in so long, he probably thought I was asleep. He lifted a strand of my hair and brought it to his face, inhaling deeply. Once and then again.
Then he…he kissed it. Kissed the end of my hair like it was treasure.
My heart almost exploded. It took everything in me not to roll to my side and wrap my arms around his neck.
This wonderful man thought he had nothing to offer anyone. Thought he didn’t need someone to hold him at night. Thought there wasn’t a single person in the world willing to put up with him.
I wanted to. I wanted to so much it hurt in my chest.
So easily, we could be best friends again. We could be even more.
Take one more chance on love, Tag. Please.
Exhaustion pulled us downward. A beautiful spiral of warmth and touch. Together, in our little cocoon, we followed sleep to its quiet place. His hand fell heavy on the back of my head.
And I let myself go.
The next morning, we woke up, arm in arm. Mine over his side, his over my hips. My head rested on his chest, his chin rested on my hair. As we stirred awake, Tag touched me, his palm meandering up a trail all the way from my thigh to the curve of my neck. His open hand pressed me in, and I arched against him with a stifled whimper—I didn’t mean to. I couldn’t help it.
He vanished, abruptly rolling away as embarrassed heat flooded my face.
Loud, shuddering inhales filled the quiet semi as he sat on the edge of the mattress. After a long moment, his voice rasped, “I’m—I’m gonna find you some coffee.”
We worked the rest of the rodeo pretending we hadn’t held each other.