Page 35 of The Runaway Bride of Blossom Branch

Cate was perfectly capable of washing up. But the last forty-five minutes had been stressful. She closed the lid on the toilet and sat down in a kind of trance as Harry found a bottle of hydrogen peroxide under the sink.

When he began to clean her battle wounds one at a time, she flinched and protested. But Harry was a determined medic.

Her arms and hands had taken the worst of it.

Harry frowned. “You don’t want Band-Aids, do you? There are so many places, you’ll look like a mummy.”

“No. I’ll be fine.”

What was making her feel faint was having Harry so close as he bent his head and tended to her cuts. He smelled like the leather in his car. Masculine and expensive. He wore that same Emory T-shirt, only this time, with thin navy sleep pants. His feet were bare.

“We’ll do your legs over the tub,” he said.

Dutifully, she swung around and propped her legs across the side of the tub. Harry used half a bottle of liquid as he poured the peroxide over each and every scrape.

At last, it was over. He dried her arms and legs with a clean towel.

Cate yawned as she stood. “Thanks, Harry. Don’t wait on me for breakfast. I have a feeling I’ll sleep in. There’s always coffee in the freezer and probably some homemade cinnamon rolls. Grammy would tell you to help yourself.”

She was babbling because she was nervous. As she tried to sidle past him out of the bathroom, Harry touched her shoulder. “Hold on. One more.”

He pointed at her bare midriff. Her cropped spandex top ended a good nine inches above her low waistband. Right in the center of her abdomen, a particularly vicious thorn had gouged a path above her navel...like a drunken comet traversing the uncharted sky that was her belly.

Harry picked up the peroxide again. “Oh, no,” Cate said quickly. Something about the thought of his fingers brushing her stomach sucked all the air out of the room. “Leave it,” she said firmly. “I’ll wash it when I take my shower.”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

She paused in the doorway. “Thank you. I always seem to be saying that to you.”

He scowled. “I don’t need thanks. But maybe I should have a key, too?”

“Of course. You should find an extra in the drawer under the coffeepot. I’ll keep the one that was hidden out back.” She hesitated. Something about the intimacy she and Harry shared made her want to bring her ex-fiancé back into the equation. “Have you heard any more from Jason?”

Harry’s face changed. Cate couldn’t explain how, but she saw it. He nodded slowly, his lips pressed together. “Yes. He’s having a great trip. Spectacular weather. Exciting photographs.”

Cate nodded slowly. “I’m glad.” She gnawed her bottom lip. “Did he use my ticket or is he alone?”

“Alone. As far as I know.” Harry’s jaw tightened. “Why does it matter? He wouldn’t have taken another woman.”

“I know that,” Cate said impatiently. “I guess I was hoping he’d have invited a friend. So he wouldn’t be by himself.”

“Some people enjoy solitude.”

Those four words sounded like a warning. “People like you?” She stared at Harry, trying to see past that wall of silvery gray. How could one man’s eyes be so opaque, even in such close quarters?

“Yes. People like me.”

Her temper, usually dormant, bubbled over. “You don’t have to babysit me, Harry. Go back to Atlanta in the morning. I’m not going to have a nervous breakdown, and I’m perfectly capable of staying alone for however long it takes me to figure out what comes next.”

He tapped one of her injuries with a careless flick of his finger. “Your recent exploits would say otherwise.”

Her gaze narrowed. Anger fizzed in her veins and pounded in her temples. “On my wedding day I wasn’t entirely coherent, but didn’t I say something about hating you?”

Harry’s smile was insolent. Mocking. “You might have mentioned it.”

“Well, now I remember why. You have a god complex. It’s very annoying. I can get along fine without you now. You’re free to go.”

“Do I bother you by being here?”

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