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“Of course.” He growls out.

Thankfully, I’m already wearing the bare minimum—yoga shorts and a tank over my sports bra. I kick off my running shoes and pull off my socks. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Way to make a bloke feel wanted.” He jests as he moves like a snail into the shower, which, to my relief, is oversized.

“Face the shower head and be quiet.” I note the bar of soap but see nothing else—no puff or even a washcloth.

I dart over to the linen closet and almost sigh with relief when I see a stack of washcloths. Now to soap up this large hockey player as fast as possible.

Steam fills the bathroom as I open the shower door and step in behind him. Payton has his head under the nozzle with his chin tucked. A bruise covers one shoulder and down part of his bicep. I get to work, lathering his back and legs. My work has put me in some very interesting and sometimes precarious positions, but this takes top spot on the list.

The time I soaped up a principal in the shower.There’s one for my future memoirs.

“Back’s done. Spin around.” I keep my tone professional. This is simply a business transaction. That’s all.

He turns around, brushing his wet hair back, and stares at me with those crystal blue eyes. “Dare I ask if this has ever happened before?”

He better not be flirting with me.

“Nope.” I pop my ‘p.’

Next, I wash his arms, taking great care not to move the one on his injured side too much, but the bruise that covers most of his ribs is next level. I suppress a cringe as I soap his torso, skirting around the discoloration. When I run the washcloth down his other side, he makes a snickering noise.

Observation #4: Payton is ticklish.

Not that it’s important or relevant. Just…interesting.

By the time I finished the front of his legs and feet, the steam and water have saturated my tank top and the tendrils of hair surrounding my face are dripping. I plop the washcloth on the soap holder and grab the shampoo bottle.

“Dip your head.”

I have to say, the man follows orders like a soldier. And I think I’m slightly impressed by that. When I start massaging the shampoo through his hair, he lets out a guttural sigh that stills my hands.

He lifts his chin and opens his eyes. Our gazes lock for a moment that feels more like minutes. I could get lost in those blue depths…and drown if I’m not careful.

“Lily?”

“Yeah?”

“The soap is burning my eyes.”

“Oh! Sorry.” I grab the washcloth and wipe his eyes.

He scrunches his face. “I think that’s making it worse.”

“Tip your head back.” I swipe the spraying water gently over his eyes and work my fingers through his hair to rinse the soap out. “Okay, you’re done. I’ll leave so youcan do the rest.”

“Thank you, Lily.” His words catch me as I’m one leg out of the shower, and his expression is so earnest you’d have thought I’d saved his life.

I can only nod because my voice can’t get past my fickle heart that’s pounding in my throat. I grab a towel, drying off as I rush out of the bathroom. Just in time to get a text from Del.

Del: How’s the invalid?

Lily: Fine. No problems.

No way am I going to tell my partner that I just bathed our principal. I’d never hear the end of it.

Del: Good. Just heard from Dame Maxwell. Apparently, the police are looking into a suspect.