18. Anna
Anna
“ A bsolutely not.”
“Hear me out,” Anna begged. Sheesh. He’d shut her down before hearing the whole request.
Beau crossed his arms over his chest. Was he flexing? “I’m not getting in the shower with you. Not happening.”
“You make it sound bad, but we’ll keep our clothes on.” Anna lifted a clump of her hair. “I was laid out on the floor of a public bathroom, then I spent hours at the hospital. It’s gross times two.”
Beau leveled her with a tense stare. He really had the unwavering look down pat. “I am not getting in the shower with you. I can’t.”
“Clothes. On,” Anna repeated. “I can wear this tank top and thermal pants, and you can put on your swimsuit. Just help me wash my hair, and I’ll take care of the rest, but there’s no way I can wash my hair with one hand.”
Getting out of the wet clothes after her hair was washed would be a chore too, but asking Beau to help her undress was definitely crossing a line.
So was showering together, but it would be over in five minutes. They could handle it.
Well, she could handle it. Beau was still holding out.
He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Anna, I’m trying here. Show me some mercy.”
He was right. They’d been dancing around attraction and their new, unnamed feelings for days. Tempting him wasn’t right.
“How about I wear a baggy, long sleeve shirt too?” she asked.
He lifted his head, giving her a look that said “Nice try.”
“How are you going to get out of a wet, baggy sweater on your own when I’m finished washing your hair?”
Was it just her, or was he talking like he was going to do it?
He let out a deep, resigned sigh and headed for his suitcase. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Thank you. It’ll be quick and painless,” she promised. Darting into the bathroom to get the water warmed up, she vowed to do everything in her power to be grateful he was helping her while also making herself as unappealing as possible.
She was slipping off her socks when Beau knocked on the bathroom door.
“Come in.”
Oh good. He’d already changed into his swimsuit, and he wore a white T-shirt to complete the very clothed, very modest look.
Then he reached behind his head and pulled the shirt off.
Why? Why, why, why?
She’d seen him without a shirt on when they got in the hot tub together, but it had been dark. So much for him being tempted. Beau needed to put his shirt back on, pronto.
Her attention caught on a long, slanting scar over his ribs. “Um, what’s that?” she asked, pointing at the mark.
Beau glanced down before looking back up. “Crowbar.”
Anna’s eyes widened. “A crowbar? How?”
“I was pulling old boards up on a porch, and the crowbar slipped. Almost stabbed me in the heart.”
Well, that was one way to distract her. There were other scars in lines, circles, and jagged splotches. “Good grief, where did you get all those?”
Beau shrugged. “I was reckless,” he said, as if that explained a history of wounds.
“Why? ”
“Why not? I thought I was invincible until I was about twenty-five.”
Anna huffed out a sharp breath. It was the opposite of how she’d lived her life—careful and orderly.
“Do you have regrets?” The question was out before she thought about how he might feel about the scars that had obviously been painful in the moments.
His brow scrunched. “No.”
Anna shook her head. “We are not the same.”
“Wait.” Beau held up a hand. “I do regret one.” He turned to the side to show his bicep. A faint line ran horizontally across the muscle.
“I pushed Olivia off a tractor when I was about thirteen. She got up and grabbed the first thing she could get her hands on and threw it at me.”
Anna leaned in to get a better look at the white mark. “What was it?”
“A saw blade. She threw it like a frisbee.”
Anna gasped. “She did not.”
“Oh, she did. She got in so much trouble. I did too, but at least I deserved it. She didn’t speak to me for weeks. She also had to do my farm chores, and she hated it.”
“But now she loves working on the farm. Her chickens are her life.”
“She always liked the chickens. My chores included baling hay and milking the goats, and those were her least favorite. ”
Anna covered her mouth to hide her chuckle. Olivia still didn’t like those things.
Beau reached into the shower and let the water run over his hand. “It’s warm now.”
“Wait, what’s that?” Anna asked when she spotted the dark markings on the underside of his arm.
Beau lifted both arms, not only showing the tattoos but effectively flexing the muscles that needed no extra show. “Rock” was written on one arm, and “Solid” was written on the other.
“Rock solid?”
Beau jerked his head toward the shower. “Let’s get this over with.”
Anna stepped into the shower. “Fine, but I need you to tell me about that while we do this.”
The warm water rushed over her, soaking her clothes, and she carefully held her braced hand out of the spray.
Beau stepped in behind her and engulfed any remaining room in the small shower. His large presence loomed over her, but instead of feeling trapped or suffocated, there was only peace.
She turned around to wet her hair, facing him in the small space.
He inhaled a deep breath before turning away from her. “Nope. Let me know when you’re ready.”
Her nerves kicked in, and every breath was thick and hot. Sure, she was fully clothed. Sure, they’d seen more of each other in the hot tub. But there was something inherently intimate about being in the shower together.
Anna quickly wet her hair, ignoring Beau’s back muscles that were on full display for her. “Tell me about the tattoos?” she asked.
“It’s not anything special. Everyone called me the Rock in high school. I was an offensive lineman when I played football, and no one could get past me.”
“You protected the quarterback?”
“Basically.”
With her hair drenched, she reached for the shampoo. “I’m ready.”
When he turned around, she squirted the shampoo into his hand. He made a twirling motion, telling her to turn. She did as she was instructed just as he slapped the shampoo on top of her head and rubbed down both sides.
“What are you doing?” she asked through laughter and the spray of water around her.
“Washing your hair. This was your idea!”
“No, I mean why are you doing it like that?”
“If you want this done a specific way, you’re going to have to walk me through it.”
She used her good hand to show him the kneading motion on top of her head. “Like this. Or think about scratching a dog behind its ears. ”
“Okay. That I can do,” Beau said as he adjusted his technique.
Her eyes closed involuntarily as she sank into the soothing feel of his fingers against her scalp. “You’re good at this.”
“No. I’m good at scratching dogs. I’m not taking appointments. This is a one and done deal.”
A laugh bubbled out of her. “Got it.”
After a few minutes, the lathered shampoo started running down her face. “Okay. I think that’s good enough. Can you help me rinse it?”
Beau huffed, but he didn’t say no. Anna turned to face him and tilted her head back into the spray of water. He lifted his hands and worked his fingers into her hair, massaging out the shampoo.
She needed to think about something other than Beau’s hands on her, so she drifted back to their conversation. “I was a cheerleader for the varsity team when you were a senior.”
Beau remained focused on rinsing her hair, not looking down at her. “I know.”
“You were a sports legend in Blackwater.”
Beau scoffed. “I was not. Also, who cares if you’re the big fish in a small pond? I only had to be better than five other people to get noticed.”
“You’ve never acted like you wanted to be noticed.”
“I don’t,” he answered quickly.
“Why not? ”
“Why would I?”
Beau was perfectly fine living his life on his own terms. No one told him where to go or how to act or when to speak. He was in charge of everything, and he did such a great job managing his business that no one ever saw him struggle.
Anna, on the other hand, never stepped out of bounds. Her life was dictated for her. Assistants scheduled her meetings. Her parents, and until recently, Dean, told her when to show up to charity events, networking parties, and social events.
The only thing she was in charge of was her fashion vlog, and she even had little say in that. Features usually had a schedule corresponding with the debut of a new line or trend.
“You okay?” Beau asked.
“Yeah. I think that’s good. If you can brush this conditioner through the ends, I can rinse it myself.” She grabbed the bottle and squeezed the conditioner into his hand.
When she turned around, Beau was careful not to pull too hard on any tangled pieces of hair. It probably took a lot of patience and restraint for him to be so gentle.
“I think that’s it,” he said, reaching his arms around her on both sides to rinse the conditioner off his hands.
“Thank you,” she said softly. Appreciation flooded her, mounting on the emotional toil she’d already been dealing with for hours.
His deep timbre was right beside her ear as he whispered, “You’re welcome.”
She couldn’t turn around—couldn’t face him. The tears would come, and he’d see them even through the running water.
And then he was gone, leaving her alone and overwhelmed.