A few minutes later, I emerge from the bathroom, feeling significant relief.
Axle is still standing in the doorway. His hands clutching the frame.
The man came outside when he heard me get home. Like he was waiting for me. Then he carried me so I wouldn’t hurt my feet on the rocks even though his ribs hurt.
And now he doesn’t want to come inside.
Something tightens low in my chest.
I walk past him toward the armchair near the window, where I threw my T-shirt earlier this morning.
My dress suddenly feels too tight. Too clingy.
Without really thinking about it, I hook my fingers beneath the straps and pull the dress down my arms.
Axle goes completely still.
The fabric slides down my body until I’m standing there in nothing but a strapless bra and panties. I reach behind me and undo the bra, and it falls to the floor as well.
Oops.
I grab the oversize PBR T-shirt off the chair and yank it over my head quickly.
When I glance back up, Axle’s eyes are fixed firmly on the ceiling.
A smile threatens at the corners of my mouth.
“You okay over there, cowboy?”
His throat bobs once before his gaze finally drops. It lands directly on my bare legs beneath the oversize shirt.
His expression shifts, and heat curls in my belly.
Then he clears his throat roughly and drags his eyes back to mine.
“Drink some water,” he says. “And go to sleep.”
Wait, what?
He reaches for the doorknob. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Doc.”
Then he steps outside and pulls the door shut behind him.
I stare at it.
Blink once.
Twice.
“That’s it?” I shout at the empty cabin.
I spin dramatically and face-plant directly onto my mattress and groan into the quilt.
Unbelievable.
I roll onto my back and glare at the ceiling fan.
Maybe I imagined it. Maybe Axle flirts with everybody.
