“Just a little further,” I urge, taking him to the bathroom and helping him sit on the edge of the tub.
I turn on the hot water and run my hand through until it’s almost too hot to bear. “The medical website I found said to soak it for forty-five minutes in water that is as hot as you can stand it. Is this temperature okay?” Klein tests the running water and nods.
I grab two pain reliever tablets from my toiletries case while the tub fills halfway. He swallows them without water, and I get him situated with towels behind him so he can lean on the glass shower that is connected to the tub. He slides his hurt leg into the water, sucking a breath between his teeth when the hot water envelops his calf. Standing back, I survey the scene to see if the set upworks. “Do you think it would work better if you were all the way in the tub?”
“Probably,” he agrees.
“I can help you undress. Or, I mean, I’m sure you can undress, but I can turn around and give you privacy and just be here if you need assistance.”
Klein looks up at me through his lashes. He looks tired. Disappointed. Slightly beaten down. “I’m not worried about you getting an eyeful if there’s future fun on our agenda.”
I stop, surprised. “Funfun? Or more kiteboarding fun?”
“I’ve had my lifetime’s fill of kiteboarding. I’m talking about two-person only fun.” He points at me, saying, “Person one.” His finger swings back to his chest. “Person two.”
Anticipation slices through me. Am I going to get exactly what I’ve asked for? “I guess that means you’ve either decided you’re done being a considerate gentleman, or that it wouldn’t be taking advantage of me after all.”
“I determined it is not taking advantage of you. And I will only be a considerate gentleman when you want me to.”
The grin splitting my face is borderline embarrassing. I swear, if this man wasn’t nursing a jellyfish sting, I would pounce on him right now.
I step up to the side of the bathtub. “Shirt first, Word Daddy.”
Klein makes a face. “Word Daddy?”
“Cecily,” I explain, and Klein nods. “That actually makes sense.”
Klein can take his shirt off by himself, so I’m really only there for moral support. I want to touch him so badly though, to run my hands over those abs that were on full display at the beach earlier, that I force upon him my unnecessary help. He laughs when I drag my fingernails over his chest. The shirt clears his head, and I arrange it nicely on the stool beside the tub so he can put it on when he gets out.
“Shorts next,” I say, and I try to act nonchalant, like I’m some kind of nurse and I see this stuff so frequently I’m immune to it.
Klein hooks his thumbs in the waistband of his shorts, then pauses. “These are swim trunks, so I could probably just wear them.”
I act like it’s no big deal, but if I’m being honest with myself, I most definitely would like a sneak preview. “You do you, Wordsmith.”
He lowers himself all the way in the tub, shorts on. “The sting has made it, umm,difficultfor me to look the way I want to look for you the first time you see me.”
I swallow a rock hard lump in my throat. Am I spending too much time picturing Klein, smooth and long and hard and ready? If the moisture between my legs is any indication, the answer is yes. “Understand that. It would be like me undressing in front of you for the first time and wearing nude colored full-butt underwear.”
Klein looks up at me from the tub. For someone in a moderate amount of pain, he doesn’t look to be too put out. “For the record, I’d be perfectly happy to see you in any and all undergarments.”
“Even pantaloons?”
His arm shoots out, taking me by surprise, and smacks my ass. I yelp and hop out of his reach.
“Per the itinerary, I have to go help my sister and the ‘I do’ crew with the favors for the wedding guests. I’ll be back soon though. Can I bring you anything?”
His gaze drops to my backside. “Just your fine ass.”
I sashay from the room, giving him a show on my way out.
“Sorry I’m late,”I call, walking into the home down the road the three bridesmaids are sharing.
“In here,” Sienna calls from the back of the house.
I follow voices until I find everyone gathered around a white-washed oval table. I say hello to Farhana and Maren, seated at the table with my sister. Wren has her back to me, bent over a box as she parses its contents.
My sister waves from her seat, and when I take the empty seat beside hers, she surprises me by reaching out and hugging me. After a second of stiffness, I melt into it. My sister isn’t a hugger by nature. Even when she was a baby, she preferred to be put down on her play mat, left to bat at the toys that hung overhead.
