Page 88 of The Outsider
I glanced over at John, who was being measured for a new pair of boots. He was watching me, and tipped his chin toward me, clearly prompting me to get back to what I was doing.
A giggle escaped. “Alright, then.”
Nimkii showed me sketches of dresses she’d made in the past, offering adjustments to make mine unique. She held swatches of fabric up, made adjustments, asked me a hundred questions about my preferences.
She fussed over me in a way that nourished my soul, filling me with a bone-deep contentment that banished the sadness I’d felt earlier. It’d been so long since I’d done something as normal as shop for clothes or had the luxury of wondering if I looked pretty or not. Too much time had been taken up by bare survival. It made me feel human again.
When she’d finished with the casual dress, we discussed wedding dress ideas, and she created a beautiful sketch that incorporated my desire for a simple, elegant design. She promised to work on it in the coming months and have me back for a fitting.
When everyone had finished, we headed for the door, and I impulsively hugged Nimkii goodbye. To her credit, she gave a sweet, tinkly laugh and hugged me right back.
“Thank you,” I murmured. “You made me feel so welcome today, even when others turned me away. I…I needed that.”
She nodded. “You make your own path, Claire. You can make your differences your strength if you choose to.”
From the Payette homestead, we visited the homes of the blacksmith (for tools), the glassblower (for glass containers), and the chemist, who restocked Kimmy’s medicine supply and traded us for toiletries like soap and shampoo. She even made perfume and lotions, and offered me a small jar of rose oil, which I happily accepted.
Finally, as it was getting dark, we decided to call it a day, our saddlebags filled to bursting. I would’ve felt sorry for the horses, but I was too busy feeling sorry for myself: my whole body was screaming in protest as John helped me mount Ghost for the ride home.
The ride back to Summerhurst was excruciating. Every muscle in my body burned fiercely. Teeth gritted, I stiffened, which only amplified the pain.
“Nearly there,” John murmured behind me, stroking my thigh.
I now understood why he hadn’t promised me another ride earlier: he knew that I’d be practically begging for mercy after my first long day on horseback. My lower back and buttocks felt like they’d been through a meat grinder.
By the time we’d settled the horses in the stable and walked to the farmhouse with our saddlebags, I was ready to die. I half-heartedly offered to help put away our new things, and Kimmy chuckled at my lack of enthusiasm.
“You should go to bed,” she said, then turned to Asha. “You, too. Neither of you are used to riding.”
In truth, Asha looked every bit as exhausted as I did. She headed for the stairs without another word. I looked to John, who gave me a knowing half-smile.
“Go on,” he said. “I’ll be up soon.”
Relieved, I climbed the stairs, wincing at every torturous step. I went to our room and collapsed onto the bed face first, not even bothering to take off my jacket, and passed out. I was woken an undetermined amount of time later by the sound of running water.
I rubbed my bleary eyes. The room was dark except for the low glow of the woodstove; John must have stoked it back to life. A sliver of light peeked through the cracked door of the ensuite bathroom. A moment later, the water stopped running, and light poured into the room as John appeared at my bedside. He’d shed his jacket and looked infinitely more handsome than I probably did at the moment.
“Murder me, Wastelander,” I groaned, burying my face in my pillow. “Put me out of my misery.”
He chuckled. “A little saddle-sore, are we?”
“A little? I’m pretty sure my backside has been worn down to nothing.”
“Luckily, it’s still intact,” he said, a playful grin touching his lips as he gently stroked my sore bottom.
“How do you tolerate this?”
“You get used to it,” he replied. “Once you’ve built up some strength again, and work on holding proper form, it won’t hurt so much. Now, let’s look after you, hmm? Wouldn’t want to risk any permanent damage to that perfect ass—it might be my favourite part.”
“Perv,” I muttered, groaning with effort as I lifted myself up off the bed, and he laughed.
He led me to the bathroom, where a full bathtub awaited, tendrils of steam rising in the air.
“I thought you said it was wasteful?” I asked, arching a brow.
“We’re making an exception tonight,” he answered, steering me towards the tub. “Just don’t get too used to it.”
I stripped off my clothes, shuddering at the cold air, and climbed in. The hot water was an instant balm on my aching body, and I moaned in a provocative way that made John grin.
