Page 47 of Brother to Brother

There was a copper, yescopper, bathtub on a raised little platform against that back wall, the spigots for it coming out of the wall above it along the side, rather than to one end. The tub was big enough for two, and deep. Raised at both ends, and longer than your more modern bathtubs, which for me meant that I’d found the Holy Grail amongst women. A bath that I not only would fully fit in to, but that my boobs, stomach and knees would all be covered by the water at the same time.

There was a little table next to one end of the bath with an oil lamp burning on one corner. I gave the knob on it a little twist to raise the wick and the light level and admired the flickering flame inside the hurricane glass. I plugged the bottom of the tub with the little stopper on the chain and sat on the edge while I twisted the handles to get the water going, ensuring the temperature was just the other side of too hot for me. I didn’t want it to cool too quickly.

I unwrapped a large bath bomb from the little wooden box and dropped it into the water, smiling to myself at both the heavenly aroma as well as the fact that it turned the water a milky white as it fizzed and fell apart.

One of the worst parts of this endeavor for me would be seeing the disappointment or revulsion on Archer’s face when it came to my nude body. While I’d worked hard to regain my figure from before Noah’s birth, there was only so much I could do. The scar from the cesarean not only remained, but my stomach, no matter how many sit ups and crunches I did, remained stubbornly flabby like a deflated balloon. What’s worse? The stretch marks from having carried my son remained deep, pink furrows in my skin, wrinkled and less than attractive by anyone’s standards, mine being at the top of the list.

I made it a point to keep my stomach hidden for just that reason and self-consciously checked over my shoulder before I undressed, relieved that Archer’s back was turned and that he was making himself busy with unpacking and putting things away, which I found a little odd considering our short stay.

I folded my leathers carefully and set them on a bench below the lone round window facing out into the woods at the back of the little cottage. I stepped into the bath quickly even though it was a touch too hot and sank into the water to my chest.

There were washcloths and towels tucked under the little side table where the lamp sat beside the tub, so I had them in easy reach. I also had the little wooden box beside the lamp, and it was filled not only with bath bombs and bubble baths, but little bottles of shampoo and conditioner, massage oil and lotion. It had just about everything a woman would need for more than just a three day stay. The club’s women reallyhadthought of everything.

I leaned back and closed my eyes, letting the heat from the water work its magic, startling when the water shut off. I opened my eyes and Archer was perched in the wooden chair that sat beside the bathtub, across from the little stand with everything else on it. I glanced down at the water, grateful for it’s now milky appearance that hid all of me from the chest down. I just didn’t know if I was ready yet…You’ll never be ready, even when it finally happens,I told myself,and it’sgoingto happen.

“You’re going to drown yourself,” Archer murmured and he was right, the water caressed my throat. Much more, and my mouth would have been covered. He slipped a washcloth off the top of the pile and set it on his denim clad knee.

When he’d changed, he’d left his black, button down, collared shirt on, choosing to simply untuck it. He’d pulled on a pair of jeans and his motorcycle boots and had put his cut back on over his leather jacket. Once he had slippedthaton he’d been ready to go. Now, his boots and socks were gone, and so was his jacket and cut.

He rolled the sleeves of the shirt back over his muscular forearms while he sat there with me and I watched in utter fascination as he did it.

“What are you doing?” I asked softly and he smiled a little and dipped the washcloth into the bathwater, soaking it thoroughly.

“I want to see you,” he said and picked up a little bar of face soap, unwrapping it and sticking the wrapper in his pocket to dispose of later.

“I’m right here,” I said confused and he shook his head gently, lathering the cloth.

“I want to seeyou,” he repeated, emphasis on ‘you’ and when I shook my head he reached for me, gently smoothing the washcloth along my cheek. “This paint isn’t you, Mel. Never understood why you put it on all the time; you don’t need it,” he said and I closed my eyes, wooden, holding stock still as he washed the makeup which I’d totally forgotten about, off my skin. He dipped the washcloth several times to rinse it, and wiped at my face to remove all the soap, so that I could open my eyes.

“Thank you,” I murmured and he tipped his head to the side, giving me a curious look. “For saying those things…” I said, “I don’t think anyone’s ever complimented me in quite such a way.”

“That’s a damn shame then,” he uttered then ordered me gently, “Sit up.”

I did, hugging my knees and splashed water on my face to rinse off any residual soap while Archer ran the cloth over my back, my skin tingling gently with every pass at the attention. It’d been a very long time since anyone had touched me and he was being so careful.

“I like your hair down, too,” he muttered and hung the washcloth on the side of the tub, his fingers gently pulling flowers and pins from my hair, stacking them in a neat pile by the lantern on the table.

I closed my eyes and let him work, my scalp sighing in relief as the tight grip my hair had been in relaxed its hold. He went a step further, once all the pins were out, and deftly massaged my scalp and I swear I turned into a bit of goo. It did little to soothe my anxiety, but it felt wonderful none the less.

“Do… do you want in here?” I asked softly and Archer chuckled.

“Maybe another time, right now I’m just kind of enjoying this, right here.” He braced his forearms on his knees and let his green-gold gaze travel over what damp skin there was peeking above the water.

I was silent, out of things to say, but I was surprised to find that the silence wasn’t entirely awkward, but rather calming in its own way. Archer simply sat with me, making no move to do anything, and certainly making no demands. Eventually, it was as if his gaze had drank its fill and he straightened with a sigh. He stretched and stood up, a little stiffly.

“I’ll grab your PJ’s and you can get out when you’re ready and join me, how does that sound?”

I nodded, and huddled in the cooling water saying, “Alright, that sounds good,” even though my heart seemed to flutter erratically at the thought that my time was up, and this was the end of the line.

“Be right back,” he murmured and went out into the rest of the little stone cabin.

He returned a moment later and laid a pair of peach satin sleep shorts with a matching peach satin and cream lace camisole on the chair. I blinked, stunned, I had never owned anything quite so nice before… likeever.

I looked up at Archer who was looking down at me, one brow raised as if challenging me to say something off about the gift. I wouldn’t, I couldn’t but I was curious…

“Was this you, or one of the girls?” I asked softly.

“Me,” he said.

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