I wasn’t expecting this .?.?. what I can only describe asaftercare. But then again, I wasn’t expecting to step into his bathroom and find red scrapes and dirt on my palms and knees either.
He swipes the pad again, gently, then blows against my skin. “How’s that?”
I grumble and take a sip of the champagne with my free hand. “And wasthisreally necessary?”
“It’s still your wedding night. Tea didn’t seem appropriate.”
I finish the glass and hand it to him. “You going to get in with me now?”
He shakes his head and lifts the washcloth, dipping it in the soapy water then running it along the back of my neck and arms.
I groan. “Fine, I’m getting pruny over here anyway.”
He helps me up and drains the water, turning the shower on for me.
I wince under the spray. Then cover it up with a grin.
He rolls his eyes and moves to the counter with the first-aid kit. “When you’re done, I’m treating those knees again.”
A moment later he makes good on his promise—or threat—and cleans up my scuffed knees again and dries my hair.
When he’s done, I bring my hands to the back of my hair, forgetting he put some aloe over them.
“What are you doing?”
I look over at him in the mirror. “My hair’s still wet, I need to braid it.”
He pulls up the bamboo bench. “Sit down.”
I scoff. “This ought to be good, cowboy.”
By the time he’s done, it’s well after midnight, my braid is uneven—yet comfortable—and we’re both exhausted.
I’m lying in his arms, eyes closed.
“Willow .?.?.”
I hum.
“That thing between you and your mother that .?.?. doesn’t matter?”
I frown, suddenly not so stiffened by it. “Yes?”
“Forget I brought it up. I just don’t like how upset you get every time you’re alone with her. When I can’t protect someone I care about—I get a little angry.”
I smirk and curl up against him. “Don’t worry. I’m taking care of it tomorrow.”
The last thing I remember is him kissing the top of my head before I fall asleep and saying, “Me too.”
Dallas was up early this morning, but not to go to work on the ranch—he was up early with Ellie. By the time I stepped out of the bedroom, they were downstairs, dressed and halfway through breakfast.
My hands feel normal again, but still a bit raw.
“Morning,” I say.
Ellie beams at me. “Willow.” She jumps off the bar stool and hugs me. “How are you feeling?”
“Hmm?”
