Page 10 of Illinois Innkeeper
We share a chuckle because we both know that I am too proud to accept a handout from my kid brother, even though he is a super successful, famous musician who would be happy to do it.
Miranda flips the bathroom light on and off three times before returning to bed.
I finish my chat with my brother. His hectic schedule never leaves him much time to talk, but I know he’ll always be there for me if I really need him and that he would do anything for me.
When we hang up, I turn to face the beautiful firefighter in my bed. Grinning at her, I joke, “My busy rock star brother finally found time to check in on me after the fire.”
“Oh, I forgot that you are related to Gavin Timberbatch. Your different last names throw me off,” she says.
“Yeah, he changed his name from Timber when he first started out in the music biz. I think it’s because he wanted his groupies to be called Timberbitches, but he denies that was his plan.”
Miranda chuckles. I love the sound of it.
Suddenly, what she said fully sinks in. “You forgot I was related to him? He’s the first thing most women want to talk to me about. In fact, I’ve been used many times by his raving fans hoping to get an ‘in’ with Gavin.”
After an appalled gasp, Miranda scrunches her eyebrows together and says, “That’s awful! What is wrong with people?”
“I don’t know.” I smile at the adorable woman, who is so different than anyone I’ve ever known. “Even when we were kids, Gavin always had that ‘it’ factor that the ladies seem to love. I am the older brother, but girls were always using me to get close to him.”
Miranda cups my cheek with her cool palm. “I’m so sorry that happened to you. It must have been tough.”
“Aw, there are some perks to having a rock star brother.” I try to downplay the hurt I’ve suffered from Gavin’s magnetism and fame, but Miranda’s beautiful, clear eyes seem to see right through me.
Needing to change the subject, I say, “But guess what?”
“What?” she asks, her eyes alight with anticipation.
“Hearing that you forgot I’m related to him has to be about the sweetest thing ever. How about if I show you my appreciation in the shower?”
The words are barely out of my mouth before Miranda jumps up and runs toward the bathroom.
Like any sane man, I lunge out of the bed and hurry after her.
10
MIRANDA
When Graham suggested that we shower together, I couldn’t think of anything that would make me happier. But now that we’re under the steamy spray together, I’m wishing that I’d found an excuse not to join him in here.
I keep telling myself that I don’t need to tap the tiny shampoo bottle three times or roll the slick bar of soap between my palms six times, but the more I try to convince myself it is unnecessary, the worse the urge gets.
Graham and I are slick with soap and rubbing together in all the right places when I pat his shoulder twice. My hand shakes with the effort of not adding a third, but I want to prove to myself that I can refrain from doing it.
Showing that he’s as observant as he is kind, Graham says, “Go ahead and do it a third time.”
I don’t want to be relieved, but the air spews from my lungs as I give his shoulder that third pat. Giving him a sheepish grin, I say, “I guess I have my crazy on full display on our first date.”
“It’s not crazy,” he assures me.
I level a no-nonsense look at him, so he says, “Sure, it’s a bit of a quirk, but we all have those. Besides, it’s not like it’s hurting anyone.”
“True,” I admit. Brightening, I ask, “What is one of your quirks?”
“Mm––I don’t know if we’re ready for that,” he teases me as he shuts off the water and begins drying me off with one of the threadbare white towels.
“Oh, come on,” I cajole him. “You know my big one, so we need to even things up.”
He thinks it over as he finishes drying me and swipes the same towel across his damp skin. Giving me a resigned expression, he says, “Okay, I’ll tell you one.”
