“Rhett…please, let me do this.”
He nods once, and relief washes over me. “Do you want more to eat?”
“No, thank you.”
“So polite, cowboy. Can you sit while I clean up here for a few minutes?”
“Sure. I’m guessing you won’t let me do anything anyway.”
I growl playfully, and his eyes widen. “No. Sit the fuck there and look pretty.”
Not that it will take me long to clean up. I’ll leave the pot in the sink for tomorrow, and Rhett can take leftovers home if he wants.
“Okay, let me get your bag, and I have pills you can take downstairs.”
“I can carry my bag. I have one good hand, you know.”
“I know, but”—I grab his bag before he does—“you’re my guest.”
“Is that what I am?”
“You’re more than that, Rhett. Way more, but you’re not ready to hear it. So follow me downstairs with Tater and let yourself be cared for. Please.” My gaze meets Rhett’s, and I jut my chin out. My characteristic stubborn streak will either break me or be my best asset for the next few days. “Don’t argue with me.”
“So feisty,” he murmurs and dusts his knuckles across my cheek. “Okay.”
He follows me quietly, and Tater bounds down the stairs in front of us, happy as a clam to find another sofa to lie on in my sitting area.
“Where’s your dad?”
“He went to Calgary for an agricultural show. Something about hybrid tomatoes, and I stopped listening after that.”
After tossing his bag on my bed, I turn and pull his shirt up. He smirks, but raises his arms and allows me to remove his shirt.
“What are you doing?”
“Well, you need a shower, and removing clothes is the preferred way to prepare for it.”
“Diamond.” He grabs my wrist with his good hand when I attempt to unzip him. “You can help, but I’m not letting you treat me like I’m not capable of anything. I can take my clothes off.”
“You could, but isn’t it more fun when I do it?”
Rhett shakes his head. A small smile on his lips. “It definitely is, but let me have some independence, okay?”
I back away with my hands up and watch as he removes his jeans just fine on his own. Before he removes his boxers, he glances at me, watching.
“I’m not gonna look away, cowboy. You’re doing great, by the way,” I tease.
He dips his thumbs under the elastic band and slides his briefs down before tossing them onto the pile of his clothes. Realizing I’m still clothed, I make quick work of removing my clothes, and I’m hyperaware of Rhett’s gaze on me.
This isn’t supposed to be about sex. Not tonight, but the way he’s looking at me says my plans might change.
“Did they tell you to keep the wound dry or to take off the bandage at night? Anything?”
“They said to keep it on as protection, but I could shower like normal.”
It’s only a few steps to my bathroom, and following a naked Rhett feels a little surreal. Like we’ve been here hundreds of times when it’s only been once.
“Can you take it off for me?” he asks.
