Page 66 of Catching Sparks

The bathroom light is too bright, and I wince, knowing that it’s probably making his headache worse. He doesn’t complain, though. Doesn’t so much as say a peep while I strip him of his briefs and guide him into the tub. I turn the tap off, and he sighs, tipping his back against the wall and shutting his eyes.

“I know you want to sleep, but just . . . just let me take care of you. Please,” I say, rubbing the hot skin of his shoulder. “Can you scoot forward for me? I want to wash your hair. You’ll feel better once you’re not so sweaty.”

I don’t mention that until his fever breaks, he’ll only get all sweaty again regardless of whether I wash him right now or not. I’m too selfish to risk him telling me not to bother.

“Okay,” he agrees.

I help him lean forward in the tub before standing to grab the detachable shower head and turning it on. The water is the same lukewarm temperature as the bath. He tips his head back and lets me wet his hair.

Peeking an eye open, he watches while I turn off the tap, squirt my favourite shampoo into my hands, and lather it up before sinking my fingers into his hair. His shoulders slouch forward as I massage his scalp, the strands of hair thicker than I expected.

“That feels good,” he whispers.

“Do you like the smell?”

“Mmhmm, smells like you.”

“It’s my favourite. I have to order it along with my favourite lotion from a shop online every couple of weeks whenever I run out.”

“What else do you like, Poppy?”

My stomach flutters as I turn the shower head back on and rinse out the shampoo. “Pink starbursts, a man in cowboy boots, and travelling. I love the sun and getting a tan somewhere where the pressures of everyday life don’t exist. Especially during the winter.”

“You’re a snowbird that loves chewy candy.”

“Yeah, I guess I am.”

Turning off the water, I squirt a palmful of conditioner into my hand and rub it through his clean hair. “What do you like, Garrison?”

“This.”

“Something else,” I coax.

“Reading. Science fiction or business guides.”

“Reading is a sexy hobby,” I say, my lips twitching.

With the conditioner now in, I swish my hands in the water before grabbing my body wash and snatching the cloth floating over his thigh. With the cloth soapy, I hand it to him. He shakes his head, so I go ahead with washing him.

“You don’t have to lie,” he mumbles.

“I’m not.”

The heat from his skin is apparent through the cloth as I bring it all over his body, enjoying rubbing my scent into every nook and cranny.

“We’d have fun together somewhere tropical. On a beach somewhere. You’d read, and I’d catch a nap in the sun,” I say, knowing exactly how stupid it is to make these plans when they’re never going to happen.

Turning his head, Garrison meets my gaze and doesn’t look away. My hand stills over his chest, the cloth squeezed tight in my hand. The corner of his mouth lifts into a loopy smile, and I return it before dunking the cloth into the water and beginning to rinse off the soap from his body.

“Almost done,” I tell him.

He nods and looks away again, resting his eyes while I finish up. It’s not even five minutes later that I’m helping him out of the bath and handing him a fluffy purple gown. Taking it from my hands, he starts drying himself off while I quickly slip out of the room to grab him a pair of my brother’s shorts.

“These should work for now. I can stop by the ranch and grab you something else tomorrow if you want,” I offer once I’m done helping him step into the shorts.

“Thank you,” he murmurs as I guide him to the bedroom and back into bed.

“Don’t mention it.”

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