Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Winnie
I’m so frazzled I can’t get the keycard to work. I know it’s because I’m swiping it too fast, the way James did with his biohazardous room when we first checked in. I know this, yet I keep doing it again and again until the keypad itself is a blur in front of me.
A big, warm hand closes around mine. “A wise woman once told me you need to go slowly.”
I watch our joined hands, fascinated by the simple movement as James swipes the card, pauses the exact right length of time, then turns the handle when the little light blinks green.
He doesn’t let go of my hand right away.
Sliding the key card out of my palm, he links his fingers with mine and leads me into the room.
When we reach the bed, James takes my shoulders and pushes gently until I’m seated on the edge of the mattress.
“So bossy,” I whisper, watching his boots instead of meeting his gaze.
He huffs a soft breath, almost a laugh. “Yeah. I am.”
I nod. “I like how you are.”
Kneeling before me, James lifts my right foot and begins unlacing my shoe. They’re black Converse high tops. He could easily loosen them just a little and slip them right off. But he takes his time, untying and then unlacing with a gentle, careful precision that feels ridiculously intimate.
I watch his hands and also his bowed head, the dark sweep of hair hanging over his forehead.
His focus is intense, his fingers steady.
He slides the shoe from my foot and places it next to the bed.
Instead of moving to the next, he cups my heel in one hand and begins to massage my foot with the other.
I want to watch, suddenly fascinated with his hands, but my eyelids flutter closed as his thumb presses into the arch.
“I don’t know you well enough yet to know how you process.” James’s thumbs move in time with his voice, punctuating different words and dragging a soft groan out of me.
What I hear the loudest is I don’t know you well enough YET. It’s a sneaky promise. Maybe an unintentional one? Either way, the idea makes my stomach flutter, and I tuck it away somewhere secret inside me to revisit.
“If you need to talk it out or you need silence or to go hit baseballs, just tell me what you need.”
His words make me ache. I don’t particularly want to process at all. I’d rather block out the whole exchange from the lobby and block out the other, even uglier memories it stirred to the surface like silt kicked up from the bottom of a stream.
I fall back onto the bed with a sigh as James deepens the massage. “I don’t know what I need.”
“Then let me take care of you,” he says.
Well, I’m not going to argue with THAT.
James continues to massage my foot until I’m drugged into a hazy half-sleep state, then jolts me awake with a touch too light to be anything other than a tickle.
“Hey,” I protest through giggles.
“Wanted to make sure you’re still alive.”
I kick at him, lightly, and he chuckles, giving my foot a final squeeze before moving to the next one, repeating the slow untying of laces and gentle massage.
When James finishes, I’m mush.
“Stay,” he says, like I could move even if I wanted to.
To be clear, I don’t want to move. And not just because my bones are liquid. I wasn’t lying when I said I like James bossy. Sometimes, his stubborn vehemence makes me want to argue even if I agree with him. Right now, I only want to comply with this protective tender bossiness.
I hear him rummaging through his bag and then the water start to run in the bathroom. James returns a moment later, towering over me, his legs touching mine where they hang off the bed. I crack open one eye. James has the tiniest hint of a smile on his lips, and his eyes are fixed on me.
“What?” I ask.
“I’ve just never seen you so … relaxed. I didn’t know you had this setting.”
I speak before I think better of it. “Emotional overwhelm and a good foot massage will do that to me.”
A frown replaces the tiny smile. “He’s a jerk who never deserved you.”
“Agreed.” I cover my eyes with one arm.
There’s a long pause. “I’m sorry he hurt you, temp.”
A little thrill moves through me at the nickname, one I shouldn’t love so much. “He … didn’t. At least, not in the way you might think.”
And that’s all I’m going to say about THAT. No sense dredging up the even older wounds Dale uncovered tonight.
James seems to sense this, because he takes my hands and, with no small effort since I’ve turned into a lumpy sack of potatoes, tugs me to my feet.
I groan the whole way but secretly enjoy James fussing over me.
He practically carries me into the bathroom, and is it bad that I wish he would sweep me up into his arms, bridal style?
Probably. At least I have the self-control not to request it.
The tub is filled, steam rising slowly off the bubbly surface. He’s turned off the main light, so only a single dim light remains. And the room smells like …
“It’s my bodywash,” James supplies. Apparently, my sniffing wasn’t so discreet. He lets go of my hands and backs up, leaning on the doorframe.
“You didn’t have to do that. Mine is right there.” I point to the bottle, sitting on the edge of the tub.
“I know. I used it this morning.”
A flush of shame rises, I’m sure bringing a blush with it. The room suddenly feels too small, too hot, too … something . “You could have just gotten yours out of your bag this morning.”
“But I didn’t.” He crosses his arms, his face unreadable. “And I had to spend the whole day smelling like you.”
“You don’t like the way I smell?” I scuff my bare toe along the tile, making plans to throw my Caramel Perfection body wash in the nearest dumpster. Then, set it on fire.
“That’s not it.”
James leans forward, just enough to touch my chin with a finger. The slightest pressure has me tilting my head up, lifting my gaze to his. Deep brown eyes burn into mine.
“It was torture,” he says. “And now it’s your turn to suffer.”
With that, James gives me the tiniest, most devilish smile.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He starts to leave, but I tug him to a stop. “Wait—what about tonight? Did you get another room?”
His smile fades, but his eyes blaze. “There are no more rooms.”
And with that, James leaves the bathroom.