Page 51 of Love in Tandem
Charlotte dug into her bag in search of clean clothes, shoving aside toiletries as water dripped from her hair next to her bare feet. Where were the clean clothes? She searched another minute, then tipped back her head.
Ugh. She really shouldn’t have rearranged things earlier. This wasn’t the right bag.
Water sprayed from the other side of the wall. Apparently Zach didn’t mind glacial water. Sounded like he was still showering.
She stared at the door separating her from the bike trailer. The bike trailer containing the right bag. Beads of water continued to trail down her skin. She really didn’t see any other option here. Not unless she wanted to put on her stinky spandex shorts and sweaty, salt-encrusted biking top just to step a few feet outside and grab the right bag.
She glanced at the wall separating her from Zach. She had time. The bike trailer was seriously no more than a couple of feet from the door. And she knew exactly where her bag was. And nobody else was here. Nobody but a lone fisherman too far off in the distance to see anything.
She tightened her towel around her, wishing for just a few more inches of material to help her feel not quite so exposed. Not that it mattered. She’d be fast. Quicker than lightning. Speedier than a bullet.
She whipped back the curtain and tiptoed across the grimy tiles. The shower was still running from the men’s side. See? Plenty of time.
Cracking open the door, she spotted the bag she needed on the trailer. Perfect.
A giddiness bubbled through her, making her giggle. She must look ridiculous. Wet. Half naked. Crazed.
Rushing four steps out the door, she grabbed the bag, double-checked inside, then spun back for the door. And slammed against it. What? She pushed the handle. It wouldn’t budge. What? She rammed her shoulder against the door. Nothing. Locked.
Only now did she notice the sign taped on the outside of the door. Keep propped open to avoid getting locked out.
Ah, so that was the purpose of the little wooden block she’d tripped over on her way inside.
Okay. She willed her heartbeat to slow down. She had her bag. She had her clothes. She’d just get dressed quickly out here. No need to panic.
“Whoa!”
Zach.
Charlotte spun, dropping everything but her towel. Her tiny towel. Her towel that suddenly felt like it had shrunk to the size of a chipmunk’s towel. Time to panic. “Don’t look at me.”
His eyes bugged out of his head. He was definitely looking. “Why are you out here like that?”
“Why are you out here at all?” Charlotte stretched the towel as far as the fabric would allow. “Turn around!”
He held up his hands, spinning away from her. “I didn’t see anything. I mean I saw some things. Like your legs. But that’s it. Maybe an elbow.”
“Shut up and don’t move.” Charlotte grabbed her bag from the ground, using it to conceal more of her body as she backed away from Zach toward the corner of the shower house. “I mean it. Don’t you dare turn around.”
“I’m not. I wouldn’t.”
Her right heel banged against the corner of the building, tripping her off balance. She flailed her arms. Her next step landed on something sharp, slicing into her heel. “Ow,” she screamed, followed by “Don’t look!” just as her other ankle twisted on a rock.
She yelped. Spun. Then pitched forward into what she really prayed wasn’t a patch of poison ivy before she let out another scream.
“So . . . can I look now?”
Two hours later the glass doors to the Emergency Department slid open, allowing Zach to step inside, but not without catching a glimpse of his unshaven, disheveled, helmet-haired, deer-in-the-headlights reflection first.
Because . . . what happened?
One minute he was stretching his legs, waiting for the park ranger—who apparently had water pressure issues at home—to finish taking his shower, so Zach could take his. The next minute Zach was standing in front of a wet, screaming, wearing-nothing-but-a-towel Charlotte.
Zach rubbed his eyes to scrub the image from his brain.
Nope. Still there. Legs, elbow, and all.
He ignored the quick glances from the only two other people sitting in the small-town ER’s waiting room—a heavyset middle-aged woman and a bored-looking teenager who quickly went back to staring at his phone. Zach had just started to sit when a nurse called his name.
