CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SIX

BROOK

I drift in and out most of the day, and every time I open my eyes, Zac comes in to check on me. I think he has a Spidey sense.

It’s strange how relaxed I am around him. Like I’ve known him forever. He’s kind and caring. I smile just thinking about him.

I’m feeling better now and sit up in the bed. My suitcases are sitting by the door. Thank goodness, now I can put on a fresh set of clothes.

I get off the bed. I’m steady. The room isn’t spinning, and my headache’s nearly gone. Sweet. I amble over to the suitcases and put them on the bed, opening them both because I’m not sure what’s in where. I pull out a clean bra and underwear along with some comfortable clothes. I realize Zac hasn’t been in to check on me yet. That’s all right.

Forgetting about the gash in my head, I run my fingers through my hair. I cringe. Not only from the pain, but from the dried blood and dirt. I must be a sight.

I wipe whatever it is on my fingers off onto my shirt. I need a shower. I grab my things and head for the bathroom. I start the water running and strip off my shirt and panties since that’s all I’m wearing. I stand there naked, and from the doorway I hear, “Oh shit . . . sorry.”

I glance over my shoulder and my mouth falls open. Zac’s eyes are wide, almost bulging. No man has ever seen me naked before. “What are you doing?” I screech and scramble for a towel to cover myself. In my haste, I step on my shirt and it slides like a toboggan on a snow hill. I tumble and Zac grabs me and pulls me into him. I’m now plastered to the hardest body imaginable. Oh, boy.

We gaze at each other a moment and then I feel a flush. I pull away and drape the towel around me.

Zac rubs the back of his neck. “I’m so sorry.”

I’m tongue-tied and don’t know if it’s from embarrassment or because of how hot he just made me feel when he held me.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah. No … yeah. I’m fine.”

“I’m sorry,” he says again.

“That’s okay.”

He smiles, nods, and stands there.

I tip my head at the shower.

“Oh. Okay.” He scratches his chest. “I’ll just get out of here so you can get on with it. Holler if you need anything.”

“I will.”

He pauses once more and then leaves. When the door closes behind him, I let out a breath and replay the moment when he caught me as I slipped. I remember something large and hard pressing into my side. I tingle and have an impure thought. I shouldn’t be thinking that way, so I shake it off and hop in the shower, finishing in record time.

From my time with Zac, I figure he’s waiting on the other side of the bathroom door, just in case.

I towel off and get dressed. The scrape on my knee doesn’t hurt much and the wound on my head’s not bad. All in all, I’m feeling pretty good.

I clean up my mess and pick up my things; don’t want Zac thinking I’m a slob. Which I am most of the time. My mom claimed that was the artist in me — a mind uncluttered. Thinking about her makes me sad. Wish I could talk to her and ask what I should do next. But I can’t.

I step out of the bathroom and my stomach growls. Zac is there and he hears it.

“Let’s get you some food.” He bends over to pick me up.

“What are you doing?”

“Gonna carry you downstairs. Don’t want you to fall. “

“I’m better now. I can walk.”

That doesn’t stop him. He takes my things from my hands and tosses them on the bed. Then he swoops me up.

I giggle. He’s strong.

He carries me down the stairs and into the kitchen, setting me on a stool next to an island.

“Thank you, but I could have made it down here on my own.”

He says nothing and starts pulling things out of the fridge and putting them on the island. “Sandwiches all right with you?”

“Yeah.”

He gets some bread and plates from a cupboard, and some utensils from a drawer. “I can make something warm for you if you like.”

“This will be fine. Thank you.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

He pulls four slices of bread from the bag and opens a jar of mayonnaise.

There’s a knock at the door.

“Oh shit,” he says.

“What is it?”

From the front door, somebody hollers, “Anybody home?”

Zac says, “I was afraid of this.”

“What?”

Zac shakes his head.

Chris waltzes into the kitchen with two big guys trailing him.

“I didn’t know you had company,” one of the big guys says.

Zac picks up the butter knife he was going to use for the mayonnaise and holds it like he might want to stab someone.

“You must be Brook,” the other big guy says. “I’m Caleb. It’s a pleasure.” He takes my hand and kisses the back of it.

I look at Zac. He waves the knife in the air. “I work with these guys.” He points at the other big guy. “That’s Jake.”

“Pleasure,” he says to me.

“Well,” Zac says. “Thanks for stopping.”

Chris heads over to a cabinet, opens the door, and snatches a big bag of chips. Caleb grabs the loaf of bread and pulls out twelve slices. Leaves the lone remaining heel in the bag.

“Guess you guys are staying for lunch, huh?” Zac says.

“Yeah, thanks for offering,” Caleb replies.

We all sit down and Zac starts making sandwiches.

“So, how are you feeling?” Chris asks me.

“A lot better. A shower and change of clothes will do wonders. My headache isn’t as bad anymore, either.” I reach to touch the soft spot on the back of my head, but I stop myself.

“Good.”

Zac hands me a sandwich.

“Thank you.”

“You want some milk?”

“Please.”

“Jake? You want to get her a glass?”

“Sure.”

Jake gets my milk and Zac hands out the sandwiches to the men.

Zac and the guys go back and forth, talking about work. They’re entertaining to listen to, and seem like nice people. That’s why I feel bad when I can’t stop myself from yawning. Zac sees me doing it. “All right guys,” he says. “It’s time to shut this thing down.” He stands up. “Thanks for coming.”

It seems like they’re having fun and I don’t want to ruin it. “They don’t need to leave on my account.”

Zac pretends he doesn’t hear me and flaps his hands. “Off you go.”

Caleb plucks the bag of chips off the table. “I’ll take these,” he says and gets to his feet.

Zac says, “Have at ‘em.”

Chris opens the refrigerator. “Can we take a few beers?” He’s pulling out a six-pack of Bud before Zac can answer. “Thanks,” Chris says.

“Nice meeting you, Brook,” Caleb says.

“Yeah,” Jake agrees.

“Nice meeting you, too.”

Chris stops beside me and puts a hand on my shoulder. “Get some rest, okay?”

“I will.”

The three of them leave and Zac walks me back up to the bedroom. I sit on the side of the bed and he goes to a closet, pulling out a sheet and blanket, and he takes an extra pillow off the bed.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m sleeping on the couch tonight.”

I stand. “That’s not right. I’ll take the couch.”

“No, you need your rest. Besides, I’ve slept in worse places.”

“You sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Thank you.”

He walks over to me and gets close. I’m thinking he might kiss me. And I’m thinking I want him to. “I won’t bother you anymore.”

Huh?

He shifts everything to one hand and caresses my cheek with the other. “Call if you need anything.” He turns and strolls for the door.

“Thank you,” I say.

“You’re welcome.”

He disappears.

Well, fudge, I say to myself and sit on the edge of the bed. I peel my clothes off and get under the covers. That night, I dream of Zac kissing me. It felt good.