I was home, in my bathtub, with no one to interrupt. It was the one thing I’d been secretly craving since I was released from ICU into a regular room. I sank further into the billowing bubbles, a smile on my face. The fact that Logan was a constant in my life the past few days had been taking its toll. His image assaulted my dreams every sleeping moment. Even if they were better than the nightmares, he was always there, waiting to torment me with the feelings for him I couldn’t dispel.
Logan had charmed his way into my life, into my heart, as a dear friend. And by taking it to the next level, I lost that. I lost him. I knew the man he was when it came to women, and I was a fool, like always, to believe I was the one he’d change for.
A tear escaped from my eye and slid down my cheek. I didn’t bother to wipe it away; instead, I allowed it to slide to my chin and fall into the water around me. With a deep breath, I closed my eyes, hoping to escape from the pressure of the outside world surrounding me.
I awoke with a stir, splashing water around me, jerking up at the realization that I was sinking under the water. I was still in the tub. The muscles in my leg that had been resting on the edge were now rigid and sore. I choked back a yelp as I allowed it to fall into the water, aching from the discomfort it had endured during my little nap.
Oh crap!
Blood pounded in my ears, panic setting in as I realized a bath might not have been the best idea. As I attempted to sit up, my entire body cried out at the stiffness in my joints and distressing ache in my bruised ribs. My head throbbed and I dropped back against the tub, wanting to do nothing but cry. But no—that was the last thing I’d do.
I propped my shriveled hands on the edges of the tub, using all my strength to lift myself. The movements triggered a sharp, excruciating stab of pain that shot through the laceration down my thigh. A gurgling scream rose from my throat.
In a panic, I sought out my cell phone. I thought I’d brought it in with the candles, but as I looked around, I realized I’d left it on the hall table.
This was not good. My chest began to heave, and tears stung at my eyes. What was I going to do now?
To my relief, there was a knock on my front door only seconds later.
Logan? I wasn’t positive, since he’d never knocked before. Worried it may be a stranger—or worse, a homicidal stranger—I tugged on the shower curtain until it fell free, the metal rod clanging to the floor.
“Cassandra!”
It was definitely Logan, and the knock from before was now a forceful pounding that could’ve easily busted down the door. I began pulling the clear vinyl curtain over me.
“Logan! I need you.” I did not just say that. Today was so not my day. I should’ve stayed at the hospital.
I waited for another loud bang at my door or the crash from him breaking it down. Instead, I heard the sound of a key in the lock, then footsteps entering.
Logan had a key! How the hell did he get that? He’d returned the one from when I babysat Oliver before Christmas, so unless he’d made a copy…
“Where are you?”
The humiliation stung. What was it with Logan and bathrooms? I looked down at the clear plastic doing nothing to hide my sopping body and cringed. The fluffy towel on the rack against the far wall mocked me as I reached out in vain.
His voice grew closer, calling my name in a panic.
“In the bathroom,” I croaked.
One hand covered my breasts over the sticky vinyl as I rolled slightly to my side, hiding my front as best as possible. I struggled against the tight space and cool water to press the curtain over my backside, attempting to shield the last shred of dignity I had.
I felt him approaching before I saw him, goose bumps prickling my skin. With hesitant movements, I looked up, my breath catching. He was standing in the doorway, candlelight flickering around him. His dark, hooded eyes locked on mine, concern etched over his brow.
“How did you get in?” I asked more softly than I meant to, swallowing the lump in my throat. It was the only thing I could think to say to break the tension, and it seemed to work.
He tore his gaze away, stepping farther into the room and grabbing the fluffy white towel from the rack. With his back to me, I watched his shoulders rise and fall as he took a deep breath, then turned to face me. He seemed to have collected his thoughts, resuming the confident and smug Logan demeanor I remembered.
“Your mother gave me a key for situations…” His lip quirked up just the slightest bit. “…well, like this, I assume.”
With a scoff, my eyes rolled back. He was overly amused with my situation.
“Just to clarify, this is not going to be a regular thing with us: you, me, bathrooms.”
A familiar smirk grew over his lips shamelessly. “I have to admit, I quite like this being our thing.” He kneeled down beside the tub, and I jerked back.
“Are you hurt?” The amused expression on his face was replaced with distressing concern.
“No, just sore.”
“All right, let’s get you out of here and into something other than a vinyl wrap. Not that I’m complaining, sweetheart.” He frowned the instant the endearment slipped out. He looked away, eyes dipping with a sharp stare at the floor, then rising back to me. “Sorry. Force of habit around you.”
“I’ve noticed,” I breathed.
Our eyes locked, and it was me who broke the stare. I wasn’t going there again. It was done.
My chin jutted out and I kept my hands placed strategically as he positioned the towel over me, rubbing the soft cotton up and down my shivering arms. I kept my eyes downcast on the metal grommets punched into the curtain when he finally reached into the chilled water and pulled out the plug near my feet. I listened as the water drained, using it as a distraction.
“You know, I have to ask: why did you feel the necessity to bathe while home alone in your condition?”
“My condition?” I hissed, pursing my lips.
The water was draining quickly, the last of it circling the drain with a final loud gulp.
He recoiled, his eyes soft and rueful. “I didn’t mean…” He sighed.
“Yeah, I get it. You know what? Just hand me my cell and you can go.”
He stood and left the room. Was he really leaving that quickly?
He stepped back in a moment later with another towel he must’ve grabbed from the hall closet. His little house check earlier had him way too familiar with where things were.
“I’m not leaving you here like this. You’ll freeze.” He bent down, his face inches from mine. “Your lips are nearly blue.”
His lips were perfection. I looked away. No, not perfection—deceit.
He held up the second towel but didn’t lay it over me. Instead, he held it up, blocking my view of him.
What was he doing? My brows pulled in.
“Let go of the curtain and use the towel I gave you to cover yourself,” he explained.
Oh.
“No peeking!”
The towel shook in his hands as he chuckled. I released my clammy grip on the vinyl reluctantly and pushed it behind me, quickly wrapping the towel back over me.
“Okay,” I said, nerves buzzing. Being naked that close to Logan began to stir the desire I feared I someday wouldn’t be able to push back down.
Logan covered me with the towel in his hands and smiled. “I’m going to lift you out. Don’t be stubborn—put all your weight on me.”