Page 8 of Nicole's Shelter

“No, thanks. I’ve got calls to make.” He waved her on and turned his attention to his phone.

This wasn’t the time to make her move. Resigned, she went into the bathroom, locked the door, and had a girlish moment just enjoying the luxury of her surroundings. The towels were plush, the shower enormous, and the Jacuzzi tub too, too tempting.

Trying to think clinically, she sniffed at the citrus-scented bath products and placed them in the shower.

The mirrors reflected her wince as she removed her jacket and she let out a shocked cry when she saw her blood-soaked shirt.

“What’s wrong?”

Her mouth dropped open as Rick stormed in. “I-I locked that.” Her gaze followed his as he took in the bloody mess. She couldn’t believe it was this bad.

“Oh hell. Are you afraid of blood?”

“Only my own.” Her vision dimmed. Everywhere she looked she saw a bloody version of herself.

* * *

“Close your eyes,” Rick ordered. He caught her as she swayed, and cradled her face close to his chest.

He’d seen the way her shirt was matted to her wounds and quickly considered the options. “Keep ’em closed.”

“Got it.”

He turned her toward the shower stall. “You’ll go a couple steps, then into the shower.”

“What?”

He pressed a towel to her face when her eyes flew open. “Relax. You’ve got to clean up. It will hurt less if you let the shower soak off that shirt.”

“Oh.”

Even muffled by the towel, he heard the fear in her voice, making him all the more determined to get through this with field-medic efficiency.

“Stand still and keep your eyes covered if you can’t keep them closed.” Her hands replaced his, holding the towel to her face. “I’m just turning on the water.” With one hand on her arm, he reached in and turned the faucet on.

“I’m not going in there with my boots on.”

“Reasonable.” He dropped to his knees in front of her, taking in the view of those long lean legs clad in snug jeans tucked into knee high black boots. The desire to run his palms over those subtle curves was about as far from field-medic clinical as thoughts could get. “Put your hands on my shoulders. For balance.” Keeping her eyes closed tight, she did as instructed. Her touch did nothing to restore his control. It was like he’d never been close to a woman before.

“We should’ve bought a shoe shine kit,” he said. Anything to distract himself as he peeled soft leather away from her firm calves.

“You’re right. I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.”

He laughed at her sincere concern for her shoes. “They’ve had a tough time, but they’ll pull through.”

She chuckled and he glanced up. Instead of white hotel towel, his gaze was trapped by her big brown eyes. ‘Doe eyes’, his mother would call them. In his mind, he stood up, cradled her face and kissed her until the fire, blood, and the rest was a hazy memory. She jerked upright, reminding him none of that was an option.

“Need help with the jeans?” he asked with a theatrical leer.

“No, thank you.”

“Hey, I’m a guy, it’s a fair question.” He stood up, her boots in one hand and her disappointment in him obvious. “When you’re in, I’ll put a towel over the door so you don’t scare yourself again.”

“Thanks.” She put her fingers under the spray and adjusted the temperature.

“I’ll bring in the first aid supplies when you’re ready. Just yell.”

“Right.”

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