Page 138 of We Redeemed the Rain

“Yeah, Cooper has done pretty good today. Been an honest to goodness help.”

“That’s…unexpected.” Tag took a step toward the porch. “Let me get her situated, and I’ll come out.”

“Don’t. Seriously, we got it. Some of the horses didn’t get worked out, but it’s too late to start the riding schedule today anyway. We’ll double down tomorrow.”

“You sure?” Tag sounded skeptical.

“Yes. You look like the walking dead. Go sleep.”

Tag huffed a breath of relief. “Thank you.”

Once inside, he set me on a kitchen bar stool and gave me a once over. “You hungry?”

“Not really. I don’t think I can eat right now.”

“You feel nauseous still?”

I shook my head. “No, the Zofran is working. I…” I looked away, honestly embarrassed to admit how disgusting I felt.

He reached a hand forward, leaning against the kitchen counter next to me. “What’s wrong?”

“I just smell disgusting. I wish Jackie was coming here tonight.”

“Oh. Because you want a shower. Makes sense.”

“Showering is one thing the doctor specifically warned me to be careful about.”

“You definitely can’t take one without help.” Tag rubbed a hand over the back of neck, squinting in thought. “Want me to call Penny? She…might help.”

“What?” How was that even an option? “Ew. No.”

“Just brainstormin’. Is it mainly your hair?”

“Mostly.”

He squinted in thought, clicking his tongue. “I got an idea. Hang tight.” Leaving me in the kitchen, he came back with a pile of towels, my shampoo and conditioner, one of his soft t-shirts, and a blanket. The huge kitchen had countertops lining every wall. A long space of counter lead away from the sink. He flattened several towels out there and twisted one into a tight roll.

He turned toward me. “If you lay here, I can wash your hair in the sink.”

“Tag, you don’t have to do that.” I protested, but he was already scooping me up yet again.

Ignoring my protest he set me on the towels.

“Tag.”

“Shh. Just lay down.”

He slipped his hands around me, cradling my head and spine as I eased backward. His gentle hands adjusted me right up to the edge, stuck the rolled towel under my neck, and lifted my hair into the sink.

He draped a towel over my chest and lightly tugged at the gown, freeing my arms. I wanted to cry with gratefulness as he lifted each arm over my head and sprayed them with warm water from the nozzle. He soaped and rinsed my arms, shoulders, and neck. Silently, I watched from below, mesmerized by his long, curled eyelashes and the focused line in his brow.

Eventually, my eyes fluttered closed.

He moved to my hair, running the very warm water against my scalp. I gave a quiet moan of relief.

“Too hot?”

“No. It feels so good.” Only after I spoke did I realize how sexual and husky my response was, but gosh, I couldn’t help it. Itdidfeel so good. I lifted my tone. “Have you done this before? You’re really good at it.”

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