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She heard the snap of the shampoo bottle lid as he opened then closed it, then the soft clap of his hands as he must have been rubbing the shampoo between them. She hadn’t realized she was holding her breath, until she felt his large hands lift her mass of curls again and massage the shampoo into it.
He rubbed her scalp with the end of his fingers, and she pressed her lips together to hold back a euphoric groan, worried that it would be louder than the growl of her stomach.
She closed her eyes, focused only on enjoying the feel of his hand on her scalp and laced in her hair. His movements were thorough, but gentle as he loosened the dried blood and rinsed the shampoo from her hair.
“Do you want me to use this conditioner stuff too?” he asked. “The stuff in the green bottle?”
“Yes, please. I mean, if you don’t mind. Otherwise, my hair will completely frizz out.”
“I don’t mind.” He repeated the process of opening the bottle then working the product through her hair.
“This feels amazing,” she said, before she could stop herself.
“Good. You deserve a little amazing after what you went through yesterday.”
She blinked at the sudden well of tears in her eyes. “Gosh. That’s one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said to me.”
His expression formed a concerned frown as he peered down at her. “Did I just make you cry?”
“No,” she said, swallowing back the emotion. “I must have just got some water in my eye.” She waved away his concern, barely missing the bottom of the cabinet with her hand. “Don’t worry about me. Just keep doing what you’re doing.” Now she wished she would have brought outmorehair products for him to massage into her head.
He finished way too soon, and she sighed again when he turned the water off. He used another towel to dab the moisture from her hair then wrapped it around her head.
“Let me help you up. I don’t want you to hit your head on the cabinet,” he said, sliding his hand under her neck and lifting her to a sitting position.
The room seemed to spin a little. But she wasn’t sure if that was from getting whacked in the head with the airbag the day before or from the fact that Dodge’s strong arm was wrapped around her waist and the side of her body was pressed into chest.
They had known each other for years, but she couldn’t remember a time that he had ever touched her. But in the last day, he’d had his arms around her and his hands on her skin and in her hair. Her chest had been pressed to his, and he’d taken her hand several times to help her.
So, maybe none of those touches meant anything to him—he was just being nice. But just thinking about the feel of his hands on her—anywhereon her—made her a little dizzy.
And if she reallyhadkissed him…well, that thought made her want to pass clean out.
“You okay?” he asked. “Did I hurt you?”
“No,” she told him, but knew that he could. Not physically, but he could easily destroy her heart. “I’m okay.”
“I just realized that you haven’t taken a pain pill today.” He held her arm as she stepped down from the kitchen chair. “Do you want me to get you one?”
She shook her head. “No. I think I’m going to try to stick with ibuprofen. At least until I go to bed. Some parts of yesterday are still a little hazy to me. I’m not sure if some of the things I remember are real or if I dreamed them.”
“Oh…yeah…you were a little loopy yesterday,” he said as he let go of her hand and busied himself cleaning up the sink. He didn’t seem to want to look her in the eye. Was that because she’d completely embarrassed herselfand himby throwing herself at him?
She wished she could remember what had happened. She could ask him, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the truth just yet. Even though the idea that she had kissed him was a little humiliating, in her dream he had kissed her back, and she wanted to live in that fantasy a little longer.
She opened the cupboard in front of her and got out two of her favorite cups. “How about that coffee?”
“Yeah, sounds good. But let me do it.” He took the cups from her, set them on the counter, then faced the espresso machine. “I can rope a steer from the back of a horse, deliver a calf in the middle of the night, and drive a combine. Surely, I can manage this little machine.”
She laughed then walked him through grinding the beans, filling the portafilter with the freshly ground coffee and tamping it evenly down. Standing next to him, she showed him how to work the machine, where to position the small espresso pitchers, and which buttons to push for the desired strength of brew.
“You’ve got quite a set up here,” he said, motioning to the counter where she had an extensive coffee bar set up with a coffee grinder, several bottles of flavored syrup, small sweetener packets, different size mugs, and mocha and caramel sauce.
“My two vices are coffee and books.” She gave a quick glance toward the shelves in her living room. “I’m afraid I tend to indulge in both.”
“There are worse vices to have.”
“True. And the money I spend on both is totally worth it.” She pulled a gallon of milk from the refrigerator. “So, do you want a fancy caramel cappuccino or a plain espresso coffee?”
