Alicia folded her hands in her lap to conceal the fact that they shook more than before her first solo flight in pilot training. "You really want to wash my hair?"
She watched him heft the water-filled tub from the stove, muscles rippling across his back, bulging along his legs. How unfair he had such a great butt that even Scooby-Doo boxers looked macho.
Josh crouched beside the two washtubs, beside her. "Consider it my Christmas present to you since we're stuck out here. And hey, a little secret between you and me." He winked, his best Josh-charm smile in place. "I really stunk at arts and crafts when I was a kid. I failed Paper Chain Making 101, so it's a fair bet any pinecone garland I string would suck."
He ripped a sheet mixed with the bedroll into towel-size strips, his flexing chest broad with dog tags nestled between toned pecs, bare, inviting. "I think we're better off if I give you the rustic salon treatment."
Even through his jokes and keeping things light for her, she could see his need for her trust. He was talking about a lot more than a hair wash right now and they both knew it. As much as she believed she had a right to her secrets, she also should have been honest with him. Or cut him loose.
She'd married this man while holding herself away. Their marriage might not be salvageable, but she still owed him something in honor of the love they had once shared.
The shaking in her hands spread to her insides until she feared she rattled as much as the Quonset hut against the roaring winds. But she wasn't a coward. She would start with the hair first, secrets later.
"Thank you. Since I can't have the pinecone trimmings, I'll graciously accept the hair wash."
Shifting her legs under her, she sat on her feet and leaned her head over the tub on the floor by the one full of clean water. Her dog tags clanked against the metal. Smoke from the fire drafted surprisingly well up the pipe until only the sweet scent of burning wood remained, almost sweet enough to cover the musty smell of bedding and damp clothes.
She gripped the sides of the basin, trying not to feel silly and oh so vulnerable with the back of her neck bare as if for an executioner. Her spine arched right there for him to see, curved in such a submissive pose.
Come on, Josh. Talk. Or do something other than tempt her with the warm whisper of his breath across her shoulders. The fire snapped and popped like the nerves inside her.
He cupped his hands in the water and trickled it over her head. Lukewarm, but still she shivered.
"Do you want me to heat it more?"
And wait longer? Or explain why now she suddenly didn't mind having grungy hair because the mere thought of being so exposed to him left her feeling weak and hungry? "No. Thanks. Go ahead and finish."
His hands continued to scoop until her hair was saturated. He reached for the bar of soap and lathered it in his hands. Not a salon-quality shampoo, but she would settle for clean.
Soon, please.
He palmed the crown of her head, slowly working over her hair to spread the suds. Strong fingers from an even stronger man massaged gentle circles along her scalp. Lethargy spread through her exhausted body. Against her steely will, her head lolled forward.
As long as she was doing the vulnerable gig, she might as well go for broke and finish spilling her story.
At least this way she didn't have to look him in the face when she talked. "When I told him, Ben, that it was over, he seemed so surprised."
Josh's fingers slowed, then picked up pace again while he stayed silent.
"He just sat there behind the steering wheel, staring stunned out the windshield over the city. I thought all the signs were there that the relationship needed to end, but he seemed clueless."
And what were her instincts telling her now? That she wanted to climb all over Josh and lose herself in his arms. In him. She yearned to forget everything and roll with him on the sleeping bag, bathed in the warmth and light of a crackling fire and his equally hot touch. But even if she trusted him, she wasn't so certain she trusted herself.
Stay strong. Hold it together.
Even if that meant being alone? Losing the incredible feel of Josh's hands, so conversely comforting and
stimulating.
Her hands clinging tighter to the metal rim, she rested her forehead against her knuckles. "Then he started crying and begging me not to leave him. I actually felt sorry for him—until I realized he was playing me. When the tears didn't work, he got angry." An understatement. Her jaw ached at the memory. "He hit me. I still don't understand how he gained control over the situation so quickly. I guess he caught me by surprise. And then I was dazed. My head hit the dash pretty hard."
His fingers twitched against her skull. Veins stood out along the tops of his feet. His hands fell away and she almost cried out at the loss. Then she heard the swirl of water, caught a flash as he scooped through.
Water trickled over her head and into the basin, parting murky suds. If only the past could be that easy to clean away, but she knew otherwise. "Eventually, he realized what he'd done."
After more blows than she could count or even fully remember. She couldn't begin to explain her mad scramble trying to get the hell out of the car. Every one of her nails breaking as she scraped her hand across the door, her vision clouded from a swollen eye, snarls of her hair, tears born of terror. >What was taking her so long? Damn, but he hated not knowing what to say to her. He scooped his hands through the lukewarm water, splashing up on his face and over his head until he saturated his close-cropped hair and admitted to himself he'd delayed thinking as long as he could.
Finally, he let his mind settle on what she'd told him. She didn't still love the other guy after all. The bastard had hurt her. How much, Josh couldn't even let himself think about yet or he would go crazy from inaction.