Page 92 of Sand in My Boots

“I c-can’t. Need a shower.”

“Okay.”

Not needing to discuss this further in the hallway, I stagger our way out of the bar. I dig my phone out of my pocket to request a ride.

“How’s your stomach?” As much as I’m in no state to drive us home, I’d like to avoid a vomit charge on my account. I hear they can be hefty.

“Head hurts more.”

“Okay. We’ll be home soon.”

The ride back to the resort is uneventful. Juli falls asleep shortly into the drive, her head in my lap. My fingers thread through her blond locks she left down for our date, loving the way they slide through the silky strands. She’s peaceful in her nap, and when we pull up to the building, almost impossible to wake up.

There’s some mention of “carry me,” and I oblige her. Scooping her into my arms, her legs hang over, her arms drape around my neck, her head falling on my shoulder. It’s only when we’re halfway to the door and she shifts in my arms, my fingers touching something sticky on her legs, do I realize the need for a shower.

Once inside, I lay her on a bed in the guest room. We don’t need our bed contaminated. She sprawls out on her back like a starfish, her hair fanning out around her head.

Forgetting the need to get her clean for a moment, I stare at her. Take in her beauty. Consider myself a lucky bastard to call her mine.

Even if that means I’m the one who has to clean up her messes.

Her flip-flops slide easily off her feet, and I gingerly unbutton her shorts. As my fingers reach for the zipper, the top half of her pops off the bed.

“There’s pee on my legs!” she shouts, forcing my hands to my ears.

I try to keep a straight face so she’s not more embarrassed. “Want to tell me how that happened?”

She worries her bottom lip into her mouth, the reality of what happened settling in, her cheeks pinking in humiliation. “I forgot to squat.” Her whispered words unleash something inside me, and I can’t hold back the laughter anymore.

“Oh, Jude. Only you.”

“It’s not funny.” She can’t get through the statement without giggling. “It’s gross.”

“It is, but still funny.” When she’s laughed out, shame settles in. “Hey, a little pee never hurt anyone before. It’s all good. But we should get you cleaned up and tucked into bed.”

“You don’t have to help. I’m a big girl. I can take a shower myself.” She stands up only to fall immediately back down onto the bed. “Or not.” She huffs, blowing her hair out of her face. “For the record, I’ve never done this before.”

I help her up, taking her shorts off, careful not to touch her legs. “Peed on yourself?”

She doesn’t answer right away. “Oh, shit. That’s actually not true. There was this one other time . . .” She slaps her forehead with her palm. “I blame tequila.”

“Poor tequila. It takes the heat for a lot of things.”

“I’d say never again, but that drink was damn good.” Her eyes close at the memory.

“Maybe it’s a once-a-year kinda thing. Saved for home use.”

Her eyes fly open. “That’s brilliant. You’re a genius.” She holds her hands up so I can take off her shirt. I don’t pretend not to brush the sides of her torso with my hands. “We can’t have sex.”

“What makes you think that’s my endgame?”

“All the touching.”

I blame the alcohol. “Just helping you. Like you asked.”

She’s momentarily confused. As if this is new information for her. “Okay. Fine. But no funny business, Came.”

“Scout’s honor.” I won’t lie and say it’s easy to ignore her naked body as she walks in front of me to the primary bathroom. “Do you need help turning the water on? Or washing yourself?”