I shake my head. “Just?—”
“Just what?”
“Be careful?”
He pauses, his grin widening. He nods as he tugs me into his chest. “I promise.”
And with another wet kiss on my hair, he leaves me.
I undress when I hear him pulling his stuff together downstairs, and just after I step under the gloriously warm water, he knocks on the bathroom door.
“Yeah?”
“Can I come in?”
I glance down at myself, then at the frosted-but-not-quite-frosted-enough glass that's quickly fogging up. “Sure.”
“I’m leaving your phone outside the shower,” he says, and I see only a blob of rain jacket as he bends to place it outside the door. “If you need anything, call me and I’ll come straight back. Or call 911, I guess. That’s probably the better thing to do if you fall or something. But then call me and I’ll come right back.”
“Ryder, I’m a fully capable human being.”
The blob holds his hands up. “Well excuse me for caring too much.”
Before he can leave again, I tap on the glass. He pauses, presumably turning back to see if it was intentional.
I use my fist to wipe a small clear circle I can peer out of. “Thank you, Ryder.”
“You’re welcome.”
Despite the warmthof the shower, a bone-deep cold has settled throughout my body.
I grab my heated blanket from the bathroom closetbefore I leave, my towel wrapped around me, and toss it onto the bed as I take in the setup Ryder has put together.
TV trays loaded with the same snacks he brought me in his gift basket. A variety of cold medicines that make me think he just bought one of each. Water, Gatorade, tea packets, a book of sudoku.
He scrambles up from the armchair by the window when he sees the blanket, already searching for an outlet by the bed.
“I’ll get out of your hair in a couple minutes, just wanted to make sure there wasn’t anything else you needed,” he says, as he clicks the heated blanket on. His brow furrows, and he clicks it again, leaning over to check the outlet behind my nightstand.
“Just… warmth,” I say, beelining for the bed and pulling the blanket over me.
And… it’s not warm. And while it’s notcold, either, it’s definitely notheated.
He clicks the button again, his eyes finding mine as he presses his lips together. He reaches forward, clicking my lamp on to check the outlet and promptly turning it off again. He sighs, dropping the remote for the heated blanket on the bed next to me. “Something tells me this is broken.”
I grab the button and click it to make sure—as if I didn’t see his attempt with my own two eyes—and yup, there’s nothing going on there.
I grumble, pushing my legs underneath the comforter and tugging all of my blankets over me.
“I’d offer you body heat again, but you just showered.”
Without thinking, I offer up a solution to this argument.
Call me addicted, if you must.
“Go shower.” I blink, realizing how desperate this mustcome off. “You can’t drive the BMW in this weather anyway. And you broke my blanket so you owe me.”
“I broke your blanket? Come on, that thing has probably been sitting in that closet for years.Timebroke that blanket.”
