Page 58 of Sharing Shane

The bed shifted as he got up. “We get housekeeping service here, right?”

“We do not leave come rags lying around for the maid service, Shane,” she told him without opening her eyes and smiled when he laughed.

She opened her eyes a slit to watch him walk away, enjoying the view of his muscled butt once again, then she closed her eyes and gave in to the post-sex sleepies.

Ten

When she woke, the cottage was empty. She lay quietly for a moment, listening to the sound of the waves crashing on the beach through the open doors. She was so relaxed she thought about just going back to sleep, but the room had grown warm, even with the ocean breeze coming through, making her just sweaty enough to be uncomfortable. Plus, her bladder was demanding her attention, so after a few peaceful moments of watching the curtains flutter in the breeze, she fought her way out of the covers and headed for the bathroom.

After taking care of her most pressing need, she considered her options for cleanup. She was sticky from the sex despite Shane’s attempt at a sponge bath, and a little sweaty. But she didn’t need to wash her hair again, and while she’d already experienced—and thoroughly enjoyed—the adjustable showerheads, she hadn’t tried out the deep soaking tub yet. And it was calling her name.

She turned on the taps and went hunting for some bubble bath as steam filled the room. She found a couple of bottles in the basket of resort-supplied toiletries on the counter, but they smelled too much like flowers, so she grabbed her peach-scented body wash out of the shower and squeezed some into the tub. It foamed up nicely, so by the time she turned off the taps, the tub was piled high with peach-scented bubbles.

She left the bathroom door open so some of the heat could escape and slid into the tub. The hot water eased the slight soreness in her thighs, relaxing muscles she hadn’t even realized were tense, and with a happy sigh she laid her head back against the curved rim of the tub.

She wasn’t sure how long she lay there, drifting peacefully, when the closing of the front door made her jolt.

She sat up, bubbles sloshing to the edge of the tub. “Hello?” she called out.

“Just me,” Shane called back. “Where are you?”

“In the bathroom,” she replied and laid back again.

She heard him walk across the floor and turned her head so she could see the bathroom door. She frowned when the footsteps stopped and he didn’t appear, then rolled her eyes when he said, “You on the toilet?”

“No, I’m in the tub. You can come in.”

He stepped into the doorway, dressed in cargo shorts and a black T-shirt with a familiar grumpy look on his face and an insulated cooler in his hand. “Why are you giving me that face?” she asked.

“What face?”

“Like I just called your sister ugly.”

“I don’t have a sister,” he told her, still frowning. “Where’d you find peach bubble bath?”

“I didn’t, I used my body wash.” She cocked her head. “There’s that face again.”

“There’s no face,” the face told her. “You going to be a while in here?”

She lifted a hand to judge how wrinkled her fingertips were. “I’m about done. Why?”

He lifted the cooler. “I brought food. Come out to the patio when you’re ready.”

He disappeared before she could respond. Suddenly starving, she pulled the drain and climbed out of the tub. She rubbed the bubbles clinging to her skin off with one of the huge, fluffy towels before wrapping it around her torso and padding into the bedroom. She pulled the red bikini out of the drawer and slipped it on, intending on finding a patch of sand for some sunbathing later, and covered it up with a loose cotton tunic in gauzy white.

Then she walked out to the patio and stopped dead. “Wow. How hungry are you?”

Shane, already seated, just shrugged. “You said you liked shrimp.”

She was surprised the little patio table wasn’t buckling under the weight of the pile of fried shrimp in the center. There was a plate of lemon and lime wedges, little dishes of cocktail sauce, what looked like melted butter, and— “Is that ranch dressing?”

“Yeah.” He dipped a shrimp in the little container and bit into it with obvious relish.

She took the chair next to his with a grimace. “I don’t want to judge, but after seeing that, I don’t think I can kiss you again.”

He just raised one eyebrow and popped another dressing-coated crustacean into his mouth. “Want a beer?”

She took a shrimp and reached for the dish of melted butter. “Sure.”

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