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Steam billowed from the bathroom. A hot bath. Jo breathed the soothing scent in. Lemon verbena. She groaned. Best idea yet. Maybe he was right. Right now, nothing made sense in her head.
Griff appeared at the bathroom door. “It’s ready.”
She followed him in. Iridescent bubbles obscured the water. Heaven.
“Thank you.”
He rested one hand on the white painted frame. A smile ticked at the corner of his mouth and he closed the door behind him.
Jo stripped out of her clothes. Wet dirt had stained the knees on her cargo pants and wisps of moss had caught under her belt buckle. Griff had promised a change of fresh clothes tomorrow, along with the fake ID. She couldn’t wait.
She sank under the bubbles, leaving the tap running so the warm water lapped higher, the heat penetrating her weary muscles. Warmth cocooned her, muting out the sounds of the world. When she’d been a child, slipping under the water had been her safe place, up there with being in bed where it felt like nothing could harm you under your quilt.
Perched up high, the world laid out below her like a beautifully stitched tapestry, she’d understood a little more of why climbing might be the same for Griff, why he loved to climb and why his injury would generate so much frustration. She didn’t have that, she realized, didn’t have that escape, the thing that made her feel better, that put the world and all the shit it threw at her into perspective.
Maybe if she had, she might have processed her grief differently, or at least found a healing after her loss, but until now, the idea of visiting Luke’s grave without justice in place had felt impossible.
She squeezed her eyes tight against the burn of tears.
Finding her place in a man’s world had forced her to put her career above everything else. Seeking justice for Luke had been a simple choice—more of the same. But this time in Griff’s company, it was making her question so much. What would it be like to open herself up to him, to share her messy life with him? To relinquish the fight?
A sob escaped her, and she bit down on her lip. Tears would solve nothing.
The bathroom door creaked. “Jo? You okay?”
“Can you pass me a towel?”
“Sure.”
She dabbed at her eyes
“Well. If you’re okay, I’ll let you enjoy the rest of your bath—”
“Wait.” She looked up at him for the first time since he’d entered the room.
He locked his eyes on her, his masculine jaw tight.His chest rose and fell in rapid beats, matching the race of her own heart. “Jo?”
She was almost breathless. Didn’t want him to leave. She was so tired of being alone. Of fighting. What would it be like to just stop for a little while?
“Would you wash my hair?” She offered him the tiny bottle of travel shampoo, her hand shaking.
A suntanned hand skimmed her shoulder and wordlessly, he took the bottle from her.
The fabric of his pants shushed as he kneeled behind her. Knowing she was naked while he was fully clothed made her pulse race and her mouth go dry. She ducked under the water to wet her hair, then sat upright, water and bubbles streaming down her bare breasts.
She wanted him to see her. Couldn’t remember the last time she’d wanted something so intensely.
He opened the bottle with a click, then his fingers smoothed the shampoo over her scalp. Prickles erupted everywhere, cascading down her spine, skittering from her shoulders to her fingertips, spiraling down her belly. Nothing had ever felt so good.
Everything else was a mess, but right now, she wanted this. More than anything, she wanted this man, with an intensity that left her mindless with desire.
A minty aroma wafted through the air as he worked up a lather. He worked slow, methodical circles, kneading the tension from her skin. The knotty pain locked inside her temples dissolved under his touch, bleeding away till there was only him and the soft sigh of his breathing at her side.
“I’ll rinse it.” He pressed a gentle hand to her shoulder as he unhooked the shower attachment from the wall.
Hot water needled her skin as he sluiced away the shampoo, smoothing his hand over her hair until it squeaked.
