I obeyed, pulling oxygen into my sore lungs carefully. "Sorry."
"You should be," he said with swift censure. "Rest, fluids, and a couple of cold meds would have prevented this from getting so bad."
I made a talking puppet gesture with my mouth. "Blah, blah, blah." He wasn't wrong, but did he have to be such an insufferable nag about it? I couldn't wait until I was feeling better so I could kick his ass and get him out of my house.
Or… could I? I wasn't sure anymore. He did still own the ranch, and besides that, I was having a hard time remembering why I didn't want him here. His arms felt really good around my body, and I couldn't deny that I felt safe with him around. I hadn't even realized that living alone had made me feel a little on edge until he was here. Since he'd arrived, I had been feeling less alone and less anxious than I had in a long time.
The freedom of singlehood was a double-edged sword. I had all the room in the world to make my own choices and be my own person—but that was only because no one cared tochallenge me. And not having anyone who cared… I wasn't sure it was worth the freedom.
When he kicked the white-washed, wooden door closed, I turned my head and realized that the clawfoot tub was full of steaming water. I rounded a wide-eyed look at Spencer. "What… are we doing?"
"Bathing." He set me down on the closed toilet, and I wobbled until he held my shoulders steady.
"Not together," I clarified with an eyebrow scrunch.
Spencer's features flickered with humor. "Not unless you want to."
I suddenly pictured him naked again, wide and finely muscled and pulling me close against his dewy skin. The picture had merit. But instead, I quickly blurted, "No way."
He scratched his dark beard, his lips twitching. "Shame. I'll shower when you're done, then. I smell like a country boy."
I liked his country boy smell. Clearing my throat, I pushed him away. "Thank you. I can take it from here."
He laughed low and soft, and instead of moving away from me, he kneeled on the vintage tile in front of me. His hands slid under my sweatshirt, and he began tugging it off. "I've seen three-legged chairs steadier than you."
I started to grumble out a protest, but he had the sweatshirt over my head in a second, and I shivered in my bra. And then I almost fell sideways off the toilet. When he caught me, his warm brown eyes crinkled with amusement. "Alright, so maybe I'm a little woozy," I admitted.
His only answer was to lift his eyebrows in acknowledgment and work on shimmying my sweatpants down my hips. Although he worked with brisk efficiency to remove my pants, by the time I reached behind me to unlatch my bra, my skin had flushed warm.
And it wasn't from embarrassment. It was because his hands were strong and firm as he skimmed my legs, and his beard tickled my arm as he looped his thumbs under the band of my underwear and slid them down my thighs. My heartbeat kicked up in pace, and my sore lungs worked to keep my breathing even despite the desire that ignited a flame at my core.
Spencer kept his gaze down as he picked me up again, and then with tender strength, he lowered me to the tub. I gripped the rolled metal edges and sank into the warm water, my eyes on his corded forearms, and then on his sharp jawline and the flicker of his lashes as he finally met my gaze. Lust roared through me, clenching my abdomen and unfurling a pang of longing between my bare legs. I squeezed my thighs together, captivated by how his eyes had darkened and his fingers lingered at the nape of my neck. He was crouched beside the tub, one arm resting on the edge and his fingers toying idly with the limp strands of my pink hair.
His throat bobbed. "I'll come back in a bit when you're done."
His practical words broke the spell his touch had bound me in, and I blinked twice. "Okay." Belatedly, I remembered that I possessed a smidgeon of common sense in my addled brain. "There's a second bathroom. Other side of the house. I let Jay shower there sometimes."
His dark brows twitched together a fraction. "You let him in the house?"
I was having a hard time focusing on his words when his bare forearms were this close to my naked body. "Uh, yeah?"
"Hm." His gaze, concerned now, traveled over my features down to where the clear water blurred my body, and then back up again. "Don't drown. I'll be back."
"Yeah," I eked out.
He left, and I noticed the darkened sweat stain between his shoulder blades as he opened and shut the bathroom door. Hadhe gotten sweaty from mucking stalls, or had Jay had him do something else? Suddenly, I was dying to know what his day as a ranch hand had been like. Spencer really was firmly in the category of a city boy. He partied and wooed pretty girls as a hobby. At least, I thought he did. Maybe that was just the perception I'd gained of him from afar. I'd never really taken the time to get to know him on a deeper level once we'd been adults.
Sighing, I dipped under the water and let the warmth cocoon me. I had to get my head on straight. Spencer being here was throwing me so far off balance, I didn't know up from down. Maybe I just needed to get my strength back. I couldn't fight my attraction to him when my body was so weak. Once I was feeling better, everything would feel normal again. My heart wouldn't try to gallop out of my chest when he was near, and my body wouldn't remember the gentle pressure of his fingers on my skin and the blissful release of fucking his chiseled body…
I burst to the surface with a gasp, scrubbing my face. "Stop it, Arabella," I chastised out loud. "Stop thinking about it."
But I was thinking about it. It was impossible not to face the relief I'd felt when Spencer had shown up and actuallygiven a damnabout my welfare. How long had it been since anyone had cared if I was sick or injured? How long had anyone other than my nervous ranch hand given a second glance at me as a person rather than as Dr. Rook or the owner or the thing that fed and watered them? I knew the answer, but it caused my stomach to twist as I slowly washed my aching body.
The night Spencer had saved me from my mom's plans. That had been the last time I'd felt seen and cared for. The night he'd steadfastly rescued me from an impossible situation, dragged me out of that mansion, and zipped up my coat for me. Since then, and since our wedding night, I'd buried myself and ignored how that had made me feel. It was easier to numb feelings underlayers of relentless work than examine them so closely, they began to hurt again.
But I wasn't Spencer's responsibility. Not really. The fact that he was here was a testament to his character; Spencer had always been like that. He helped where he could, no matter the person. And if that person wasjustpathetic enough, he'd do it to the detriment of his own benefit. He'd already sacrificed so much to help his best friend's sister, and I knew he was here becauseheknew I had no one else. That, or Knox had broken down and begged him to help me. I wasn't sure what was worse; the fact that he was here out of pity or that I was so desperate for care, I was allowing it.
Definitely the second one. Goddammit. That was much worse. It was one thing to be pitied, I decided as I washed my hair and then lay my head against the bathtub, it was another thing to accept pity in lieu of actual affection. I splashed lukewarm water over my face as the bath cooled. "You are pathetic," I muttered to myself.
