Chapter 28
Sophie
I spent Sunday scrambling to catch up on my grading and make the rounds to pick up the last few supplies I needed for the balloon festival so I could meet up with Davis.
I was able to order high-vis vests for the ground marshals online, but I had to visit the propane distributor in person to review the site layout for fueling propane tanks from the truck, then I needed to pick up groceries for the week.
It wasn't until I got home that I started to itch.
At first, it was a tingling sensation, easily ignored.
I scratched absently at my scalp, but that only seemed to make it worse.
By the time I'd finished putting away my groceries, I couldn't stop the urge to scratch.
I'd slept at home, so I couldn't blame the irritation on using a new brand of shampoo at Davis's.
Phantom prickles danced over my scalp, and I shuddered as I considered the next most likely cause.
No.
No-no-no-no.
Fingers trembling, I pulled a strand of hair in front of my eyes, examining it for tell-tale signs.
Mortification locked my muscles, adding to the resistance I felt over what I needed to do next: notify Davis.
What kind of man wanted to date a woman who gave him head lice?
At best, he'd never want to sleep over again.
I'd had one other memorable bout with lice in my classroom early in my teaching career.
Thankfully, that time I hadn't picked it up.
But it had spread among my students like wildfire.
This was why we didn't share hats or jackets, making me feel absolutely foolish for lending mine to Brendon.
I should have sent him to lost and found for something to borrow, but I'd been too soft-hearted, and, it turns out, unlucky.
Shirt balls.
Sighing, I reached for my phone, hitting Davis's contact while I grabbed my keys and headed for the door.
"Sophie? Everything okay?" his gruff question hit me in the feels, tightening my throat. He sounded so concerned. Rightfully so, though my problem was only embarrassing, not life-threatening.
"Davis. I'm so, so sorry," I began, locking my front door and sprinting for my car. "I have some bad news."
"Oh," he said, a note of caution bleeding into his tone, as if he were shoring himself up for something awful.
"I may have given you head lice. Again, I'm so sorry, Davis. I'll make it up to you. I'm headed to the store now for medicated shampoo. We'll cross our fingers there hasn't been a run on it. I'll grab an extra bottle and drop it off for you, if you like."
Out of breath, I paused, giving him a chance to respond.
"How about I come to you, Bee?"
Thankful he didn't sound mad, I sighed. "You don't have to do that."
"Well, Jo might not appreciate it if I spread the love here. I'll pack a bag and meet you at your place."
"Has anyone ever told you you're kinda awesome, Davis?" I asked, relieved he didn't seem upset.
If our roles were reversed, I wasn't sure I'd be so calm. Head lice freaked me the fork out. I shivered, still in denial that I had creepy-crawlies on my scalp.
"I'll see you at my place, and I'll order us pizza from Slice for dinner."
I avoided making eye contact with the clerk as I checked out, two bottles of lice shampoo and fresh combs my only purchases. I considered burying them under condoms and ice cream, but I figured I'd already earned enough notoriety for one shopping spree.
Davis beat me home, and I drew to a stop in front of him.
He sat on the landing in front of my door, hands braced behind him, a black duffel bag on the floor at his hip. He wore fresh jeans and a Pinkney T-shirt with a ballcap pulled low over his hair. It was a nice Mariner's hat, and I winced. Would he feel compelled to burn it after this?
"Hey.” He pushed to his feet and took my reusable grocery bag from my hands.
"Hey," I said, my voice gravelly. "I'm so sorry, Davis. I know this is gross."
He shrugged off my apology, his expression serene. "Don't apologize, Bee. I imagine it's a hazard of the job."
"Sure, but that doesn't mean I want to share it with you," I lamented. "I feel terrible."
He grunted, following me inside. "Just remember to give me grace next time I have to bail on plans for a work emergency or smell like ass because I've been cleaning out the hops kiln. Every job has its drawbacks."
"Yeah, but there's a world of difference between growing hops and fostering head lice," I grumbled.
Davis shrugged. "Bee, this won't even make the top ten gross things I’ve handled compared to what I've dealt with at the farm. I promise, it's not a big deal. Were you able to find shampoo? Shall we hop in the shower?"
"Together?" I choked out.
"Up to you," he said smoothly. "If you want someone to wash your hair for you, I volunteer as tribute."
"Davis, that is the weirdest, nicest offer I've ever had." I shuddered. "I admire that you can say that, given the current circumstances. I think for my own self-esteem, we should take turns in the shower. I don't want to associate head lice and being naked with you."
He chuckled, the low sound somehow soothing my jangled nerves. "Fair enough. You go first."
I showered quickly, lathering my head multiple times, trying to rinse away the itching sensation and purge myself of the disgust I felt every time I thought too hard about my hair.
Davis smelled strongly of the medicated shampoo when he joined me in the kitchen after his shower. Without the scent, I could almost believe this was just a regular date for us.
"Want me to comb your hair out?" Davis offered, his voice husky.
I shivered at the idea of his fingers in my newly-clean hair. "Sure," I said, "can I offer you a beer while we wait for our pizza?"
"Sounds good."
I grabbed a beer for him and cider for me and followed him into my living room. "Do you want me to sit on the floor in front of you?"
"Please."
I set our drinks on the coffee table and slid down to sit between his knees. My shoulders grazed his inner thighs, and a fresh rush of longing raced through me. It was ludicrous to think of sex at a time like this, but I couldn't help the way I reacted to him.
Davis placed a gentle hand on my shoulders, easing my hair across his lap, and I sighed, trying to relax. Trying to forget exactly why he was combing out my hair.
"Tell me about your day," Davis said, his voice soothing as he began running the fine-toothed comb from my scalp to the ends of my hair.
He worked slowly, taking his time to work out tangles, the steady movements hypnotic as he tugged and stroked.
Davis listened as I prattled away about my errands. I relaxed under his ministrations, admiring his gentleness, marveling at how much Davis, or at least my perception of him, had changed.
I used to think of him as unreachable and gruff, a surly loner who didn't need anyone. Didn't want anyone, least of all me. Spending time with Davis these last weeks, seeing him in unguarded moments, had revealed more of the man than I'd ever suspected existed.
I'd known he couldn't be joyless, not with the way Jo spoke about him. He might be terse and get grumpy with me, but it was obvious he loved his sister and would do anything for her.
As I wedged my way into his inner circle, it became clear that Davis cared fiercely but quietly. I felt honored he numbered me among his friends. I wasn’t sure then how my crush would end, or where we might lead – all I knew was I'd become wildly attracted to my handsome farmer.
Every gentle stroke as he eased his hands and comb through my hair only served to reinforce how wrong my first impressions had been.
He didn't turn away from the hard things in life.
When he committed, he did it with his whole self.
He was brave that way, inspiring me to take greater risks with my heart.
Slowly, it dawned on me that Davis had already shown me he was no risk at all.
A man who didn't dump you at the first sign of head lice was a keeper, full stop.
If he hadn't owned my heart before tonight, he sure as hell did now.
Feeling full enough to burst, it was all I could do not to turn and climb up into his lap to tell him how much I loved him.
A knock on my door signaled the arrival of our pizza, and I sighed, reluctant to leave Davis's gentle ministrations and face reality. My feelings for him may have grown bigger than I'd ever imagined, but that didn't make now the right time to tell him.
He’d no doubt take a while to arrive at my inevitable conclusion: we belonged together.
Maybe I'd trusted too easily and fallen too fast in the past, but I couldn't imagine a single ex doing any of the things for me or with me that Davis had.
Not taking care of me after my crash landing, not helping me test my balloon again, facing his own fears in the process, and certainly not reacting with such grace to the announcement I'd shared head lice.
"We should probably get that." Davis squeezed my shoulders before maneuvering around me to answer the door. He tipped Becca for delivering our pizza and thanked her before shutting the door.
"Dinner?"
I nodded, pushing to my feet to grab plates.
Davis wolfed down his slices, returning for seconds before I’d even finished my first.
“Everything okay, Bee?” he asked as I picked at my second slice.
Blurting out that I was pretty sure I loved him could wait. I forced a smile. “Just reflecting on the joys and pains of small-town life.”
He stilled. “Oh?”
His carefully casual tone made me look up. Concern wrinkled Davis’s brow.
“Have you ever wondered what it’s like to buy head lice treatment or condoms without becoming the talk of the town?”
He shrugged. “That’s why I love the internet. Anything you need, delivered right to your door.”
I giggled. “You’re willing to wait a couple of days for shipping?”
“What can I say? I plan ahead.”
I bit my lip, amused. “C’mon, Davis. Not even you anticipate head lice.”
He winced. “You’ve got me there. But I do usually keep flea treatment in stock for the kittens.” He peered at me, watching me steadily. “Are there things you miss about Spokane? Do you see yourself moving back there?”
“Nah.” I shook my head, secretly thrilled when his shoulders relaxed. “Once you’ve left the bumper-humpers behind, you never want to go back.”
His low chuckle stroked every nerve. Davis arched a brow. “Bumper humpers?”
I grinned. “Yeah. You know, jerks who follow too close?” I shuddered, playing up my reaction. “What can I say? I’m a country girl at heart.”
Davis reached out, squeezing my fingers gently. “I couldn’t be more glad to hear you say that.”
“Is it because I’m talking about humping, and that turns you on?” I asked solemnly, holding back a teasing grin with effort.
His low laugh roiled my stomach in the best way, sending a clutch of butterflies soaring. “It is a tad more grown-up-sounding than the hippity-dippity, but I wouldn’t change you for the world, Bee. It’s more that I’m glad to hear you’re here to stay.”
“In Campfire?” I leaned back. “Oh, honey. Unlike my class’s head lice, you’re never getting rid of me. I’m a lifer.”
“And I couldn’t be happier,” he murmured, sneaking a quick kiss.
Content, I dug into my pizza, reassured by his marinara-flavored kiss that Davis wanted me to stick around as much as I wanted to be around. The old days of avoidance were well and truly behind us.