I close the distance between us and take her face between my palms. “Everything is good.” Really, it’s better than good, even with the bullshit. It feels right having her in my space, having her with me. “I just want you to eat something, shower, and take your pill so you can rest. It’s been a long fucking day.” I brush my lips across hers.
“I really am okay.” She leans back to look me in the eye.
“Liar,” I say quietly, seeing the pain she’s trying to hide. “I’ll be right back. Relax.” After she nods, I take off, first going to her Bronco to get her bag, then stopping in the kitchen to pick up a tray of food. When I get back to the room, I find her curled up on the couch, watching some history documentary on the television.
“Did you know that the first chain saw was invented to help make it easier for doctors to remove babies from women?” she asks as soon as I enter the room.
“No.”
“Well, it was. How horrifying is that?”
“Pretty fucking horrifying,” I agree, carrying her food and a bottle of juice to the couch and handing her the plate. “Eat, so you can take your pill and shower.”
“Please.” She raises a brow.
“Sorry.” I smile. “Please eat, so you can take your pill and shower.” I sit next to her with my own plate of food.
“I know you said everything is fine, but I noticed that you, Blake, and Maverick talked, and since then, you seem to be on edge,” she says when a commercial comes on. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Blake isn’t happy about you and me.”
“Oh.” She sets down her fork and starts to bite her bottom lip.
“He’s just worried. Live Life Adventures is his baby, so he’s just concerned about us spending time together and how that could affect business.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t want you guys to fight because of me,” she says quietly.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” I reply, and she starts to fiddle with a loose thread that’s hanging from her shirt, not looking convinced. “Mav, Blake, and I are family. I don’t have brothers or sisters, and my parents aren’t in my life. Mav has a similar story to mine.” I set down my plate on the coffee table in front of me and scrub my hands down my face. “The three of us might disagree from time to time, but at the end of the day, we have each other’s back.” I turn to look at her. “Blake will come around after he pulls his head out of his ass.”
“Okay,” she agrees, still not looking convinced, then winces when she moves her hand.
“Pain pill, shower, then bed.” I push off the couch and take our plates to the small kitchen, dropping them in the sink. Then I take her one of her pain pills before I grab a rubber glove, along with a roll of medical tape.
“I think I’ll be able to manage showering on my own.” She looks around at anything but me as I take a seat next to her and start placing the glove on her hand.
“How about you do what you can, then shout for me if you need help?”
“Yeah, okay, thank you.”
“No problem, sunshine.” I tape the glove tight enough around her wrist that water won’t be able to get into it. “All set,” I say, and she stands, going to her suitcase to dig out a makeup bag and a fresh set of clothes before heading for the bathroom.
“Be right back,” she says with her cheeks turning pink.
“I’ll be here if you need me.”
With a nod, she closes the bathroom door; then a moment later, I hear the shower turn on. Not long after that, I hear her start to grumble.
“Tanner,” she calls, and I walk toward the door as she opens it just enough to peek out. “I can’t get my sports bra off.” The tears I see in her eyes make my gut clench.
“Step back and let me in,” I say gently, and she moves, letting me into the room. Then, without a word, I turn her so that her back is to me. “Lift your arms.”
“This is so humiliating.”
“It’s not,” I assure her, and she groans before lifting her hands over her head. I grab the tight material at her sides and carefully maneuver it over her breasts, then head. “Do you want me to help you with your pants?”
“No.” She crosses her arms over her chest and turns to face me. “I think I can get them off on my own.” She glares at her hand. “Hopefully.”
“All right, I’ll be outside.”
Not surprisingly, she doesn’t ask for my help again, but she does stay in the shower for close to an hour. When the door opens and she steps out wearing a baggy shirt and shorts, the scent of vanilla filling the small space, my mouth waters at the sight.