“Yeah, we can take a break, but I’m not sure about your stitches.” His brows furrowed with concern. “Don’t think you should get them wet.”
“I don’t have to take a full-blown shower or anything.” I lifted my hand to show him. “I just want to get some of this blood off me and maybe wash my hair.”
“You think you can make it to the bathroom?”
“If you help me I can.”
He nodded, then leaned down and gently picked me up, carrying me into the bathroom. As he lowered my feet to the floor, he said, “There are some washcloths in the cabinet.”
“Okay.”
“You want me to get you a change of clothes?”
I glanced down at the t-shirt and sleep pants I was wearing, and even though they were way too big, both felt comfortable. I shook my head and said, “These are fine.”
“You sure?”
“Um-hmm. I like how they feel, and they smell really good too.”
A slight smile crossed his face. “Glad you like them.”
“Wait.” I looked over to him with surprise. “Are these yours?”
“They are.”
“Oh.” I glanced down and smiled. Once again, Shotgun had been there when I needed him. “Well, thanks for letting me borrow them.”
“Anytime.”
I turned on the water at the sink and he stepped out of the room, giving me a chance to freshen up on my own. There was a mirror in front of me, but I could barely stand to look at myself as I washed my face and arms. While it helped to get cleaned off a bit, I wanted desperately to wash my hair. I knew I couldn’t do it on my own, so I called out, “Hey, Shotgun. Can you come here a minute?”
“Yeah.” He stepped back in the room with a concerned look. “Whatcha need?”
“Any ideas on how I might be able to wash my hair?”
He stood there for a moment, then turned and walked out of the bathroom. “Hold on.”
“Okay.”
Seconds later, he came back with a chair, then placed it against the sink and said, “How about this? You can sit and do it.”
“Are you going to help me?”
“Um...I could go grab one of the girls to help ya.”
I was already mortified he was seeing me in such a terrible state, especially when he looked the way he did. While he’d done his best to hide it, he had to have been repulsed by the sight of me, and I couldn’t stand the idea of anyone else being forced to view me this way. I must’ve been out of my mind to think this rough, tough biker would be willing to wash my hair, but I asked nonetheless. “Thanks, but if you don’t mind, I’d really rather you do it.”
It was clear Shotgun had no idea what to do or say as he stood there gaping at me like a deer in headlights. He glanced over to the sink, then back over to me. I was beginning to think he was going to tell me that he couldn’t do it, especially when he started shaking his head, but to my surprise, he motioned his hand over to the chair and said, “Sit, and I’ll see what I can do.”
“Okay.” I carefully moved over to the chair and held on to his arm as I slowly sat down. Once I was seated, he reached over and grabbed the shampoo out of the shower. When I noticed he was ready, I inched my head back until it was resting on the ledge of the sink. As he wet my hair, I said, “I really appreciate you doing this.”
“Don’t mention it.” He turned on the faucet and checked the water’s temperature, then gathered my hair into the sink, but right before he picked up the shampoo, he looked down at me with his eyebrow cocked high. “I mean it, Remington. Don’t mention this shit to anyone.”
I started to giggle but quickly stopped when I felt a stabbing pain in my side. Damn bruised ribs. I winced as I said, “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”
“Good.” Just to be clear, this wasn’t a hair wash that you might see in a romantic movie where the guy was all sexy and sultry as he moved his hands through the girl’s luxurious locks. Don’t get me wrong, it still felt amazing. Even though he might’ve been eager to finish and moved quickly, his touch was soft and gentle. As soon as he was done shampooing, he promptly rinsed my hair, then helped me wrap it in a towel. “That should do it.”
Shotgun carefully lifted me and carried me back to the bedroom. I was surprised by how safe I felt in his arms and was almost disappointed when he placed me down on the bed. Moving around had taken its toll, and I was suddenly extremely tired. I could barely keep my eyes open as I mumbled, “Thank you.”