She bumped against the toilet and lost her footing, falling with a thump onto the toilet seat. A hiss of pain escaped her when she automatically put out both hands to catch herself.
The bathroom door burst open, and Cam and Sawyer stood in the doorway staring at her in concern. Before she could protest, blush or succumb to embarrassment, Cam rushed forward and cupped his hands around her shoulders.
“Are you all right? What the hell happened?”
“I told you she shouldn’t be doing this alone,” Sawyer said tersely.
She held up a hand. “I’m fine. Damn it, guys, get the hell out of here.” She reached for a towel and tried to cover herself.
“We’ve seen you naked, Reggie,” Cam said patiently.
She glared up at him.
He shrugged. “Just sayin’.”
She closed her eyes and sighed. “I need soap. Shampoo would be nice. Only I don’t know how the hell I’m going to wash my hair,” she muttered.
Sawyer backed out of the bathroom and returned with a small bottle of shampoo. Then he eyed Cam.
“You gonna do it, or am I?”
Cam’s gaze flickered briefly to Regina then back to Sawyer. “I’ll help her. When Hutch gets back with her clothes, lay them on the counter.”
Sawyer nodded, and then his stare found Regina again. She clutched the towel to her chest, but she still felt frighteningly naked and vulnerable under the force of his scrutiny.
“I’ll be outside if you need anything,” he said softly.
He retreated from the bathroom and closed the door.
“Cam, I don’t need your help,” she said as soon as he turned to her.
“Reggie, shut up,” he said mildly. “You’re going to end up falling and hurting yourself. Now get your ass in the shower so I can wash your hair. If it makes you feel any better to have a towel around you then knock yourself out, but I’ve seen you naked, and I’m certainly not going to jump your bones in a hospital bathroom. If you can control yourself, I guarantee you that I can too.”
She laughed then groaned as she took his hand and pulled herself upright. Just as she stepped into the shower, she hesitated then slowly pulled the towel away and handed it back to him.
He tossed it aside then slipped in behind her and retrieved the shower head from its perch above her head.
“I’m going to get you all wet,” she muttered.
“I’ll survive.”
A gentle hand gathered her hair while the other directed the spray over the tresses. He was careful to keep the nozzle pointed away from her injured hand.
“This would be easier if you turn around,” he said.
She closed her eyes but did as he suggested. When she opened them again, she found herself staring up into his eyes.
“Put your arm up on my shoulder.”
She carefully raised the brace and rested it on his right shoulder.
He poured some of the shampoo over her head then carefully set the shower head back on its mount, pointing the spray away from them both. Then he delved his fingers into her hair, working the soap into a lather.
She closed her eyes and swayed a little unsteadily as his fingers worked their magic.
“Want me to get the rest?” he asked.
She wanted to die of mortification. How could she possibly let him touch her when they both knew she’d react like an adolescent crushing on her first boyfriend?
