“Ah...Reed. Do you think you can finish getting undressed?”
He grabbed at the waistline of his jeans and tugged. All of the well-worn buttons popped one after another.
Sara-Kate felt her face heat. Over one hundred years old, and no practical experience with a man. She rolled her eyes. It was ridiculous to be coy and scared. She had a job to do.
Reaching for a pink bath towel, she placed it demurely over his lap to protect his modesty. If he cared at all about modesty, he didn’t show it. Instead he shimmied out of his jeans, the blue denim pooling on the floor, and got to his feet.
Before the towel could slip away, Sara-Kate immediately made a grab for it and wound it around his waist. If the night hadn’t been so tragic, it would have been like a scene in a bad comedy movie.
Holding him firmly by the arm, she used her hip against his thigh to hold the towel somewhat, albeit it haphazardly, around his waist, and guided him toward the bath tub. She let out a slight groan when she realized the towel was going to drop—one way or another.
Alright, eyes north of the waistline.
She focused on his upper body as he stepped into the water. She held on to his arm with all her might, while he lowered himself into the water.
“Good job,” she praised, not sure if she was talking to Reed, or herself.
The bath water had clouded over from the now dissolved bath crystals, and a fragrant fog of steam rose from the surface. She knelt on the bathmat beside the tub, reached for a wash cloth, and went about soaping his arms, back, and chest.
The water ran down her wrist and soaked her robe. She paused to shed it, revealing a red silk chemise beneath.
As she glanced over the exposed half of his body, she saw no effects of the accident. No bruises, not even a drop of blood. A far cry from the bloody, battered man who perished in his car only an hour or two earlier.
It was like the accident never happened.
The Fates definitely had a plan in mind when they woke him from death, and pulled him from the wreckage.
“How are you doing, Reed? Any warmer now?” she asked, squeezing water from the wash cloth over his shoulders.
He closed his eyes and slowly shook his head. “Warmer? No, not really. I feel like my brain is in a fog. Nothing makes sense.”
“It will, Reed. Just give it some time. You need a cup of tea, and a good sleep.”
His head turned to her, and his eyes opened. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” She turned the question back at him.
“I don’t know...you don’t even know me,” he paused. “Or maybe you do know me?”
His gaze was penetrating. Was he remembering those final moments with her in the car before he drew his final breath? Or was he simply dazed and confused?
“You came here tonight because you need my help. I would never turn anyone away who needed me.”
“You really are an angel. Most people won’t even open the door to a stranger, let alone bathe one.”
“I’m not most people, Reed.”
“No, you’re not,” he agreed. He leaned back against the tub, and closed his eyes.
She allowed him to rest quietly. After a few minutes, Sara-Kate tested the bath water with her elbow. It was starting to cool. It was time for the next part of this trying process.
“Okay, Reed. It’s time to get out of this bath now.”
His eyes opened and he stared momentarily at the ceiling, before pulling himself into a sitting position. Sara-Kate got to her feet, grabbed for a towel, and held it outstretched before her. She bent toward him. “Grab my wrist and I’ll do my best to help you up.”
Averting her eyes so all she could see was what was in her peripheral vision, Reed took a hold of her wrist with two hands, and she moved her legs apart to brace herself to take his weight. But she was petite, only a fraction over five feet tall, and barely one hundred pounds. Reed in comparison was over six feet and at least one-eighty. She sent a swift, silent prayer to the Fates to keep them both safe from falling.
To Sara-Kate, it was nothing short of a miracle when he was on his feet. She quickly wrapped the towel around his waist, and helped him step from the tub. Reaching for a second towel, she went about drying his back, shoulders and chest.
Holding firmly to his arm, she prepared to help him from the bathroom when he stopped suddenly before the vanity mirror, and stared at himself. He pushed a few errant strands of dark, damp hair from his face and remarked, “This must be what I’d look like if I were dead.”
There was such a seriousness to his tone that Sara-Kate quivered a bit. Now was not the time to tell him the truth—that he really was dead. He would find out soon enough. Instead, she groped for the first excuse that came to mind.
“You just had a serious accident, and quite a scare.”
He seemed to accept the feeble explanation, and allowed her to guide him from the bathroom, and down the hall toward the second bedroom. To call it a bedroom was redundant, as it was just a room with a bed in it. Since she never had guests, it sat empty and alone. Until now.
She pulled back the blanket and sheet, and patted the pillow into shape. “Come on, Reed. Get off your feet and into bed.”
He slipped under the bed clothes and discarded the towel he wore around his waist, and she arranged the blanket and sheet around him trying to get off her mind that he was naked under the sheets.
This was unlike her. She hadn’t felt an attraction to a
