“As a heart attack. Are you going to let me help?”
“Fine. Not like you’re giving me a choice. You really are a grumpy bear and a fartknocker. Didn’t you learn about personal space as a child?”
Chuckling, I shake my head. “I know all about it, but you don’t get any—it’s just our space now. Keep hold of my shoulders and put your good foot on the floor. I’ll take off your jeans.”
She huffs out a breath and groans. “Fine.” Then she grabs my shoulders. Bending down, I pull her jeans and underwear off together. Her T-shirt is long enough that it falls to mid-thigh, so she’s fully covered. If it wasn’t filthy from her fall, I’d leave her to sleep in it. Since I didn’t think about getting her things from her tent, she’ll have to wear one of my shirts. Thought of her in my clothes wakes up my cock.
“I’ll be right outside. When you’re done, call me, and I’ll come and help you.”
If possible, her cheeks get even redder after I sit her on the toilet and back out of the bathroom. I pull the door mostly closed behind me. “Don’t you dare get up when you’re done or you’ll be sorry.”
I barely hear her mumble, “Whatever,” through the door. Precious.
After a few minutes, I ask, “Are you done yet?” I mean, how long could it take?
“I can’t go with you listening. I have a shy bladder.”
What? Is that even a thing? My brothers and I would just whip it out if we had to go. It didn’t matter who was around, except for Mom. She didn’t appreciate catching her sons “watering the trees” in the yard.
“What can I do to help?”
“Go away,” she almost-growls.
“That’s not happening, Raindrop.” I can’t help but chuckle to myself.
“Maybe turn the faucet on?” she whispers.
“That I can do.” I step into the bathroom and I on the water. “Better?”
“Thank you, but you still have to get out.”
“Got it.” I can’t keep the grin from my face. I know she’s a grown woman, but as tired as she is, she seems so vulnerable. The desire to wrap her in my arms and protect her is overwhelming.
When I hear her yell, “I’m done.” I push open the door and smile at her disgruntled expression. Poor baby is hating her life right now.
“Good girl. Thank you for listening. I know this is hard, Emma. I promise I’ll try to make it as easy as possible.”
She seems to deflate a little when her gaze meets mine. “I know, I’m sorry, too. I don’t mean to be any trouble. Taking care of me is the last thing you need.”
Even if I tell her she’s wrong, I doubt she’ll believe me. I can hardly believe it myself. Without making too big a deal, I clean her up and then flush the toilet. Then, I carry her over to the counter and set her down before washing our hands in the sink.
“Not too bad, right?”
“That’s debatable.”
Thankfully, I have a spare toothbrush and pull it out of the drawer. After adding toothpaste, I hand it to her.
“You’re going to let me do it myself?” she sasses.
“Unless you don’t think you can without hurting your hands.”
“I can, I used a fork at dinner, remember?”
“Yup.” I grab my toothbrush, too. When we’re done, I pick her up and take her into the bedroom, sitting her on the edge of the bed.
“Wait, isn’t there a guest room?”
“There is, but this is the only bed in the cabin.”
