His broad shoulders meet strong pecs. He has abs. Capital A-B-S. Like, I can count them individually. Name each one of them. He has the V and a happy trail that leads to?—
“You’re naked!” I shriek and throw out a hand as though I’ll preserve his modesty.
“Of course I’m naked! I’m taking a shower!”
“Where are your shorts!” I’m yelling.
He’s shouting something, though I’m not surewhatbecause I’m so loud.
“I’m sorry! I thought we were showering!” he answers.
“We are, but I assumed we were keeping our underwear on!”
“You could have told me!” he yells from the other side of the curtain.
He reappears, this time wearing his black boxer briefs. I don’t know that it’s much better. My sports bra offers more coverage than that. I pivot and face the wall, scooting over enough to share the stream.
“Showering in your underwear. Who does that?” mutters Miles.
“I do. When I’m showering with you,” I snap back. I reach for the shampoo he’s holding and start to lather up.
Miles rolls his eyes. “Turn around. I’ll help get the mud off the back of your neck.”
He grabs my shoulder and turns me so that the water is hitting the back of my head, and he starts running his hands through my hair, shaking the mud loose. The water pooling in the shower pan is completely brown.
He reaches over my shoulder and pumps some shampoo into his hand, then lathers my hair with it.
I don’t know if I’m in danger of dying of embarrassment, melting because it feels so good, or turning around and kissing my husband.
I try to put my brain on lockdown so I can focus on getting out of the shower. Thank goodness we don’t have a lot of time left.
This is pure torture.
I’m married to the sexiest man alive, and it’s purely platonic. He feels remorse about kissing me, and earlier I was sprawled on top of him. Now, we’re sharing a shower simply to get mud off, and it’s all I can do to remember that this isn’t real. That my feelings for him have to stay on a friendship level.
Because this marriage was never meant to last.
“Was everything okay in the shower?” Miles’s mom asks me as we reach the picnic table. “I thought I heard shouting all the way over here.”
My cheeks go bright red. “Oh, uh, well, I almost slipped in the shower. Miles caught me.”
“He’s always been quick on his feet. So glad you didn’t get hurt.” She has a mischievous grin on her face, and I glance behind her to see Ainsley smirking as well.
I’m beginning to wonder what they’re up to, but then Ainsley points to Andrew. “Dad took Alexander over there to give him a bath with Grandpa. They have a hot water hose on the outside of their trailer.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “Is that so? How interesting. I wonder why Miles and I couldn’t have used that.”
Ainsley’s eyes widen. “I just remembered there’s somewhere I have to be.”
I glance at Miles to see what his reaction to the news is, but he’s rubbing a hand against his jaw, and he looks like he’s about to burst out laughing.
Unfortunately, that only makes me want to laugh with him. He’s able to make every situation fun. And it’s one of my favorite things about him.
He can laugh even when things are awkward. He never resorts to anger or manipulation—the two main emotions my mom displayed. He just laughs it off.
And even if this marriage is short-term, getting to be around someone that is like this is healing for me.
THIRTY-EIGHT
