But they discovered when he pulled off the dirty tarp that there was no mattress. The homemade, full-bed-sized cot was made army style, consisting of a heavy wooden frame over which had been stretched a strong green canvas hammock. The canvas was faded and slightly frayed in spots, but looked relatively clean and sturdy.
“It’s not too bad,” he said, studying the primitive structure. “Certainly as clean as the cave we slept in last night. Why don’t you try to get some rest?”
She eyed the bed warily. “You’re the one who needs to lie down,” she replied. “You shouldn’t be standing on that leg. You must be in so much pain.”
“It’s not too bad,” he lied.
It was obvious that she didn’t believe him. She glanced toward the cluttered countertop. “I wonder if there’s any chance of finding a painkiller among that mess.”
Donovan chuckled. “I don’t believe I want any of the drugs you’d find in here, thanks.”
She wrinkled her nose at him, an expression he found particularly enticing. “I meant an aspirin. Or some other over-the-counter medication, obviously.”
Still smiling a little, he shook his head. “I’ll be okay.”
She looked again at the bed. “I doubt that this cot is going to be particularly comfortable for you. But then, neither was that cave, I suppose—especially since you had to sit upright all night.”
“I’ve slept in worse positions.”
Moving toward the cot, she cocked an eyebrow at him. “Someday I’d like to hear more about your past adventures.”
That comment made his slight smile fade. Though he knew she was mostly teasing, he couldn’t respond in the same light tone. There were still too many raw wounds from his adventurous past that were barely scabbed over. He’d rather deal with a broken leg any day rather than have those old emotional wounds examined.
Apparently, she had learned not to expect a response to everything she said to him. Without waiting for him to speak, she motioned toward the bed. “You first. I want you off that leg.”
“Actually, I’d like to wash up first. You seemed to feel a lot better after your bath, and I’m pretty grubby myself.”
That argument obviously made sense to her. “Of course you want to wash. It really does feel better to be clean.”
She hesitated a moment, then sat on the edge of the cot. “I’ll turn my back. Unless you need my help, of course.”
He felt his mouth kick into another slight smile, though the thought of having Chloe help him bathe was anything but humorous to him. “I can handle it. And I’m not really modest.”
It was hard to tell in the deep shadows, but he thought her cheeks went pink before she lay on the cot and turned her back to him. “I am,” she muttered.
Definitely a good thing he hadn’t mentioned checking on her while she was bathing, he decided wryly, tugging his grubby black shirt over his head. He had to drag his gaze away from the sight of Chloe’s nicely rounded bottom as he turned to pick up the soap.
She never glanced around as he washed as best he could under the circumstances, using the leaking pan of cold water, the hard bar of soap, and the last dry scrap from the T-shirt. When he was finished and fully dressed again, he pulled the two chairs close together.
“What are you doing now?” she asked, turning around when she heard the chairs scraping against the wooden floor.
He had come to the conclusion that it would be much better if he didn’t climb into a bed—not even this sorry excuse for one—with Chloe. “The cot’s not really big enough to hold both of us comfortably. I’ll sit in one chair and prop my legs on the other. You get some sleep, I’ll be fine.”
Frowning, she wriggled into a sitting position on the cot. “There’s no way I can rest on our only bed while you’re sitting in that awful chair with a broken leg. You, I mean, not the chair. Well, both you and the chair. Oh, you know what I mean.”
He couldn’t help smiling again at her disjointed tirade. Funny how often she made him smile, even under these circumstances. “I told you, I’m—”
“Look, this cot is bigger than it looks. There’s room for both of us to get some sleep if we’re still.”
The only way they would fit was to lie pressed together. And that position would most likely drive him insane by daylight. “I don’t think we should—”
She didn’t let him finish. “Come on, I slept with my head in your lap last night. It’s no big deal.”
Because he could still very clearly remember the feel of her head on his thigh, her cheek resting close to a very sensitive area—not to mention the sight of her bathing in that stream—he was even more certain he should stay right where he was. “I—uh—”
She stood. After waiting for a rolling grumble of thunder to end, she said firmly, “This storm could go on all night. There’s no chance we’ll be able to leave before daylight, and little chance that anyone will find us here. If you’re really crazy enough to try hiking again tomorrow, you’re going to have to get some rest first. And I can’t sleep unless I know you do.”
She had a stubborn set to her mouth that told him she wasn’t going to listen to argument. She was fully prepared to sit up all night if he did argue.