Page 43 of Tangled with the Tight End

“Winona!”

I jump up, bursting through the bathroom door, ready for whatever situation he’s gotten himself into. What was I thinking, leaving him alone to shower himself?

Declan’s wrapped in a towel around his waist, his dark hair slicked back and one hand bracing the edge of the shower.

“I can’t reach my scooter,” he says.

“Oh! Yes. Of course.” I grab the scooter and maneuver it toward him, keeping my eyes on the floor and then the wall and basically anywhere but on him.

“I’ll take it from here,” he says, turning in the opposite direction of his bedroom.

“Where are you … ?” My question dies on my tongue when he pops open a door at the far side of the bathroom, revealing a closet bigger than my bedroom. There’s a kitchen island in the middle of the closet and clothes are hung more neatly than they are in the boutiques on Main Street.

“Wow,” I say in a hushed voice.

Declan’s head pivots. “What?”

“You even have an island in there. Are you hiding refrigerators in your bathroom?”

He laughs out loud.

Sinews and damp skin flex with his laughter.

I glance away and think nurse-ish thoughts. Band-Aids. Neosporin. Aspirin.

“I’ll just be … out … here. Out. In the other room. Not this one.”

“Mm hmm,” he says with another laugh. “I’ll get dressed and be right out.”

I back out of the bathroom, literally walking backward for some unknown reason—until I bump my hip on the counter and shout, “Ow!”

“Are you okay?” Declan asks.

“Yeah. I’m okay. I’m great.”

My face heats with a blush. I turn and head to the bedroom.

It takes a little while, but Declan emerges wearing grey sweatpants and a Thunder T-Shirt. His hair is still damp.

We take the elevator back downstairs together and I get Declan situated on the couch with his cold compression on.

“Hungry?” I ask.

“Actually, yes.”

“Good.”

I head into the kitchen to see what his options are and come back to recite them. He picks roast beef and sauteed veggies with mashed potatoes.

“Join me?” he asks.

“To eat?”

“Yeah. Are you hungry?”

I am hungry. I ran straight from the nursing home here. “Okay. Sure,” I say.

I heat two servings of food and carry them back into the family room on a tray.