Page 43 of Spring Showers

“You’re covered with poison, you know.”

She could hear him laughing as the sound of the shower changed from hitting the pan to hitting his skin. Outside, rain began to fall. Soft at first, and then hard, like marbles hitting the roof. The downpour drowned out the sounds from the bathroom altogether, but not the sound of her heart beating against her ribs.

Tying the bag and washing her hands in the sink, a drip of water hit the tip of her nose. Looking at the ceiling peak, she saw another drop. And another. She didn’t want to spend one more minute being wet, or covered with mud, but if the dripping kept up, they would soon be in a bath. She grabbed a mixing bowl from the kitchen and placed it on the floor below the dripping ceiling just as she heard another drop splash into the kitchen sink.Lucky, she thought.

It was obvious the place needed work. Not just Grant’s cabin, but The Foundry as a whole. Leo and America had made their funds stretch farther than the money probably should have, and the barn itself was a stunning spectacle, but the funds could be used for things like roof repair and additional staff. No amount of perfectly planned activities would make up for a guest waking up to a soggy bed or a wet kitchen.

Grant came out of the bathroom like a zombie wearing a gray robe, not unlike the color that his face had turned after seeing the rash earlier. His skin had all the peachy color back in it now, but his eyes were vacant, and his shoulders slumped forward. Making straight for the bed without even looking at her, he flopped in and said, “I feel awful.”

“I’m not surprised. It’s probably the allergy medicine making you feel drowsy. But look,” she said and pointed at his wrist, “it’s working.”

He turned his hand over and back again before collapsing into the pillows piled in front of the whitewashed headboard.

“You were in quite a state of shock at the sight of the rash. Now that the adrenaline is wearing off, and you’re all cleaned up, you should sleep.”

“Are you staying?” he asked. His eyes were closed. “I want you to.”

“I shouldn’t. But I don’t have a choice right now.”

His eyes flew open at that moment, though she wasn’t sure if he was responding to what she said about staying, or because of the lightning and peals of thunder outside. The clap was so loud it drowned out the rain pounding on the roof. “I can’t sleep under these conditions,” he said. “The thunder... My mind’s racing and replaying what happened, and you...” His eyes drank her in. “You, looking like that.”

She looked down at herself, wrapped in the robe, and shook her head at him. “Try to sleep,” she said and pointed at the dripping ceiling with the bowl positioned underneath. “And I’ll keep an eye on this.”

“Let’s hope that doesn’t get worse,” Grant said and took a calming breath in. “I’m actually feeling better knowing you’re staying with me for now.”

His sentiment was sweet, but she hoped the rain would let up soon. The longer she stayed with Grant, alone in his cabin, and wearing only a robe, the less willpower she would have to not accidentally kiss the man again. “I can call Leo. Maybe there’s something he can do about the roof. Though I doubt it while it’s still raining.”

“No need. I can fix this,” he said and hopped up with all the confidence of a boy wearing a cape—in this case, a robe with a rope belt that he was twirling in the air like a lasso—and walked to the kitchen.

“What are you doing? Sit back down!” Thandie said and reached out to intercept him. “You can’t possibly fix a roof?—”

“I didn’t say I was fixing the roof.” His smirk weakened any resolve that she had left, and she fell to the edge of the bed where Grant had just been. He returned from the kitchen with a split of red wine in one hand and two stemmed glasses hanging from his other and held them up like a man presenting his big catch.

“This is your idea of a fix?” she said and took the bottle from him. “You should drink water, not wine.”

Thandie took the bottle back to the kitchen and filled a glass from the tap for him. He took it, reluctantly, and drank the whole thing to appease her, probably in hopes of getting wine next. She handed him the bottle, partly to see what he would do, and partly because she could use a glass of wine too.

“Pour,” she said.

He opened the bottle and poured an inch into the wineglass.

“I’m really sorry,” Thandie said.

He swirled the rich liquid and held the glass out for her. “Sorry for what?”

“This week has been a total disaster. You were supposed to have a perfect week and all it’s done is rain and rain.”

“I don’t see it that way. Here.” He released the glass into her possession, and she took a sip. “I have had a very nice, albeit unexpected, time so far this week. I’ve biked, and hiked, and stretched, and breathed, and stacked, and soaked, and?—”

“Nearly died.”

Grant scooted next to her on the edge of the bed and placed his hand on her robe-covered knee. “Thandie, look at me. I did not nearly die. I overreacted?—”

“Panicked?”

“Yes, panicked, when I thought I was having an allergic reaction. But I’m fine now.”

“You didn’t look fine, Grant. I was really worried,” Thandie said.

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