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“I have to do something.” She frowned at her bandaged wrist and let out a frustrated sigh. “I just want to wash my hair.”
He tilted his head as if an idea had just come to him. “I think I can help with that.”
“How?”
“My grandma used to wash our hair in the kitchen sink. I can do the same for you.”
She frowned. “Really?”
“Yeah, sure. It’ll be easy. Well, maybe not easy. But not hard. We can do it. You grab your shampoo, a hairbrush, and whatever else you need, and I’ll find a couple of towels and meet you in the kitchen.”
It sounded like a terrible idea, but he was so earnest about wanting to help her, and she couldn’t deny the temptation to have his hands in her hair. Although when she’d imagined his fingers twisting through her tresses, he’d been kissing her passionately, not washing crusted blood from them.
“Okay. I guess. There are some blue towels we can use in the linen closet in the hallway,” she told him as she reached for a makeup remover wipe. “Just give me a few minutes to wash my face and brush my teeth, and then I’ll be in.”
Ten minutes later, she walked into the kitchen holding her shampoo, conditioner, a detangling hairbrush, and a tube of leave-in curl cream.
Dodge had laid a rolled-up towel on the counter next to the empty sink. He’d pulled the kitchen chair up too and patted the seat. “You can step on this to get up on the counter.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Wait. You want me to lay down on the counter? I thought I was just going to hang my head over the sink.”
“No way. You have to lean your head back into it. I don’t want to take a chance on getting those Steri-Strips wet or bumping your eye.” He tilted his head. “What are you worried about?”
“I don’t know. What if I break the counter?”
“You’renotgonna break the counter.” He held out his hand. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes. Mostly.” She took a hesitant step forward. “Did you wash out the sink?”
“Of course.” He patted the counter again.
She stepped onto the chair, then turned around and sat down. The quartz countertop was cool against her bare legs, and she could feel the chill of it through the skimpy pajama shorts. She let out a little shiver—from both the cool of the countertop and the anticipation of Dodge’s hands on her again. She put one hand behind her, trying to figure out how to lean herself back without falling, while awkwardly holding the sling against her chest.
“I can’t watch this anymore,” Dodge said. “Can I please help you?”
She nodded, the desire to have her hair clean apparently outweighing the embarrassment of the situation. “I think you’re gonna have to.”
In what felt like one move, he lifted her legs onto the counter while turning her body, and with his other hand on her back, gently lowered her down until her neck was resting on the rolled-up towel. He carefully pulled her hair free and hung it down into the sink.
She shifted positions and tried to stretch out her legs, taking care not to knock over the cookie jar or the sugar canister. As she relaxed her shoulders, a long low, rumbling growl sounded from her stomach.
“Wow,” he said with a soft chuckle. “That was impressive.”
She groaned as she pressed her good hand to her belly and heat flared in her cheeks. “More like mortifying.”
“I can imagine why your gut is complaining. You skipped supper and haven’t eaten breakfast. Let’s get your hair washed then we’ll take care of food next. I may not be the best in the kitchen—Chevy is the one who likes to cook—but I can manage a scrambled egg sandwich.”
“Sounds perfect.” Her belly rumbled again. “Apparently my stomach agrees.”
“I was gonna make a pot of coffee, but I couldn’t figure out your fancy dang coffeemaker,” he said, flipping on the faucet and holding his hand under the water.
“It’s an espresso machine. And if I can manage it one-handed, when we’re done here, I’ll make you the best cup of coffee of your life,” she told him.
“It won’t be hard to beat the stuff that Gramps makes. It’s so strong, your fork will stick up in it. But I look forward to testing your claim.” He must have deemed the water warm enough because he swung the faucet back into the other sink and let it flow over her hair.
She was going to ask him why he was using a fork in his coffee, but then his hands were in her hair, gently lifting handfuls of it into the water then running his fingers through her matted curls.
It felt heavenly. All she could do was let out a sigh.
