my options on how to get from the cab to the shop efficiently. My umbrella seemed a silly choice just for the few feet to the door, but my hair would appreciate it, since I’d made a secondary poor choice to leave it down today. Then again, I’d be heading straight for a hot shower from here, and I’d only be inside for a few minutes, just long enough to get Tess to sign the liability forms for a venue and to approve a scope of work agreement we’d finally completed.
Umbrellaless it was.
I gathered my bag and umbrella, taking a breath to brace myself before opening the door and stepping out. As quickly as I could, I got both feet on the curb, turning to shut the door before bolting toward the shop. I was nearly in the inset threshold when a sheet of water overran the gutter and fell like a curtain on me.
I froze in shock, furious and freezing and soaked with filthy rainwater, hair dripping and coat a sponge. One breath, slow and controlled, and I found my wits, stepping into the nook to open the door to the shop, marked with a Closed sign. The sound of rain was muffled when I closed the door, the bell ting-a-linging cheerily, mocking me. Rain patted the tiled floor as I stood in the dark shop in icy indignation.
I headed to the back, frozen to the bone, peering back into the workspace for Tess. My only thought beyond my state of undoing was how desperate I was to put this day to bed and move on. Surely, I’d feel better after a hot shower and a good night’s sleep. Surely, tomorrow would be better.
“Hello?” I called, twisting my cold hair into a rope, wringing it out as I walked toward the back.
“Back here,” a deep baritone voice that was definitely not Tess’s called.
I faltered but kept trucking to the back, hoping I could find something to dry my hands off with so I could extract the paperwork from my leather attaché without ruining it. Swiftly and as a diversion, I counted the minutes until I could leave, teeth chattering while I tallied it up. Twelve minutes should do the trick with time to spare.
I didn’t know what I expected when I rounded the corner into the workspace. Luke maybe. Jett perhaps. But not Kash Bennet, sitting at a worktable, stuffing buds into plastic water tubes. They were so small, so delicate and feminine in his massive hands, and he handled them with gentle care and attention, as if they were precious. Considering he’d grown them from seeds, I supposed they were precious to him in a way they weren’t to anyone else.
Kash glanced up with a crooked smile that immediately faded upon seeing the state I was in. His brows snapped together, and he was on his feet in a flash of motion.
“Lila? What happened?” He moved for a rack stacked with supplies, whipping a white towel and a flannel blanket off a nearby shelf before striding toward me.
“This is just the day I’m having,” I said lightly, hands up in display, smart smile on my lips so I didn’t cry.
He handed me the towel, tossed the flannel on the table, and stepped behind me. “Here, let’s get you out of this.” First, he took my bag, which he placed on the table as I dried my hair. Then, his hands closed over my lapels and slid them over the curve of my shoulders.
I stilled but for the tremors of cold, tossing the towel onto the table. Down my arms the coat slid. Instantly, I felt the heat of him behind me and resisted the urge to lean back into him, desperately craving that warmth from the depths of my icy bones. When he stepped away, cold overtook me, my clothes damp and cool to the touch as I curled my shoulders and folded my arms, cupping them to retain as much warmth as possible.
Teeth clicking, I dropped onto a stool and tried to regain composure. I forced myself to sit up straight, dropping my hands to my lap. My eyes found Kash hanging my coat, spreading it over two hooks and shaking it open as best he could so it could dry. When he turned, he looked even more concerned.
“Here,” he said, reaching for the flannel. “You’re freezing.”
He unfurled it as he walked toward me and wrapped the blanket around me.
“Th-thank you,” I said once the flannel was