Page 27 of Lost in You

I close my eyes, breathing in the warm amber scent mingled with the coconut-scented bubble bath. With the crackle of the blazing fire, this feels like a luxury spa.

At least until I open my eyes again. Lincoln is still sitting with his back to me, looking at nothing but the cabin wall.

“I’m craving a chocolate shake,” he says.

“That sounds incredible. With six inches of whipped cream on top.”

I wash, rinse and condition my hair, feeling more like myself than I have since the crash. If I was alone in the cabin, I’d sit here for a long time, but I feel bad about Linc staring at the wall.

I’ve put my hands on the sides of the tub, ready to get out, when I realize I forgot something crucial.

“I don’t have a towel.”

“I can get you one. Where are they?”

My heart races at the thought of him seeing me naked. How could I forget about a towel?

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen any.”

There’s a second of silence before he says, “Want me to look in the storage room?”

“No! Stay where you are. I’ll figure it out.”

I sit up in the tub, crossing my arms over my chest and looking around. There’s nothing within my reach but the little rug next to the tub.

“There are dish towels in the kitchen,” Linc offers. “In the drawer by the coffee maker.”

I can’t walk across the cabin while soaking wet. I’d get the floors wet and have to turn my back to him to get the towels. I briefly consider just living in the bathtub forever.

“Will you blindfold yourself and get me a couple of towels?”

He scoffs, amused. “No. I could trip over something and hurt myself and I’m the only able-bodied person here.”

Good point. I sigh softly.

“Hey Trin, are you covered in scales or something?”

I furrow my brow. “No.”

“I’m not going to look, and even if I did, you’ve got a great body.”

My lips part and my pulse pounds, my inner feminist wilting at how good his compliment makes me feel.

“It’s not about whether you’d like it. I’m a private person.”

“Do you want me to get you the towels or not?”

I sink down below the water’s surface from the neck down again. “Yes. Throw them over here or something.”

He moves from the bed, my gaze tracking him as he walks across the cabin to the kitchen and gets out two towels. Looking down at the ground, he approaches me, my heart hammering like a drum.

Half of me wants him to look and half of me doesn’t. He shields his eyes as he drops the two towels onto the rug beside the bathtub.

I quickly get out of the tub as he stands next to the bed, his back to me.

“Hey, I’d never sneak a look at you taking a bath or make a move on you,” he says out of nowhere. “I’m not like that.”

His words are more disappointing than I would have expected.

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