Conleth had entertained multiple private fantasies about his mate’s lips hovering over his bare skin. None of them had involved her immediately jerking away, nose wrinkling.
“Um.” Paige coughed. “It’s…better?”
“If you can still smell it, I’m going to asphyxiate any shifter within fifty feet.” He just wanted to lie down and pass out, but he made himself dip the cloth back into the bucket. “I’ll scrub myself again. Sorry, I’m not going to be able to come back to work for a while.”
“It’s no problem. Leonie’s arranged for some other counselors to cover for us.” Paige studied him, her forehead wrinkling. “You look exhausted.”
“Meds crash,” he mumbled, scrubbing at the back of his neck. “Downside of taking stimulants. I get hit with a kind of rebound effect when a dose wears off. And when I speed, my metabolism goes into overdrive. Burns through my medication in seconds rather than hours. The faster I go, the harder the drop at the end.”
“That sounds awful.”
His brain felt like it was being pressed between bricks. “It’s moderately unpleasant, yes.”
“I’ll tell Leonie you’re taking the rest of the day off.” Paige gestured at his back. “You keep missing a spot. Right there, between your shoulder blades.”
It was far too late to worry about appearing undignified. He contorted, one elbow sticking up into the air. “Better?”
“No, I don’t think you can reach it.” She held out a hand. “Let me help.”
He passed her the washcloth, too exhausted to make even a token attempt at arguing. “Try not to get too much of this stuff on your hands. It’ll dry out your skin.”
“You’re rubbing it all over your body.”
“That’s how I know it’ll dry out your skin.”
“I’ve got some body lotion I can lend you.” Paige gingerly dunked the washcloth into the bucket. “As long as you don’t mind smelling like strawberries.”
“I wouldn’t mind if it smelled like pickled herring. It would still be a distinct improvement.”
“No argument here.” Paige tapped his shoulder. “You’re too tall. Kneel down so I can reach.”
Conleth sank obediently to his knees, leaning his head forward. Cold, damp cloth pressed against the nape of his neck. She began to wash his back with firm, impersonal strokes, as though cleaning a particularly ugly car.
Under any other circumstances, this would still have been wildly erotic. Fortunately, in his current state—exhausted, strung out from the post-speed medication crash, and smelling like a mix of bleach and death—the most he could muster was a sort of abstract appreciation.
“Conleth?” The washcloth moved down his spine. “Can I ask you something?”
“You’re likely to get an unfiltered and somewhat incoherent answer. I’m not exactly at my best. But go ahead.”
“Why didn’t you want to work as a counselor before this summer?”
He shot her an incredulous look over his shoulder. “You’re asking me thisnow?”
She motioned him to turn around again. “It just doesn’t make sense. You’re completely dedicated to the campers, even whenthey’re driving you up the wall. Yet from what I’ve heard, you used to lock yourself in the office all summer and refuse to have anything to do with the kids. Other people assume that’s because you’re an uptight control freak who’s only at camp because of that so-called prophecy, but I know that’s not true. So what was the real reason?”
“Ah.” He was too tired to give her anything other than the unvarnished truth. “That’s because I’m not a nice person.”
She slapped the washcloth against his shoulder. “I’m being serious.”
“So am I.” He tipped his head back, closing his eyes. “A nice person wouldn’t be so consumed with bitter longing he couldn’t hide his true emotions. I couldn’t work with the campers. Not when I knew that in all probability, I’d never be a father.”
The washcloth stopped dead.
Conleth cursed himself. “So much for my plan. Assuming you accepted me at all, I intended to wait at least three years before delicately sounding you out on your feelings about starting a family. Sorry, I’m not thinking very clearly right now.”
“It’s all right. I did ask.” She started scrubbing his back again, though more slowly. “I had no idea you wanted kids that badly.”
“Then I’ve been doing one thing right, at least. This is another of those things I’d appreciate you keeping to yourself, by the way.”
