The Merriest Magnolia (Magnolia Sisters #2) - Michelle Major Page 0,55
a glass of wine in the other.
Instead, she stood under the slowly cooling stream of water, trying to pull herself together. Carrie had no idea how long she remained there, but she startled when the glass door slid open a few inches and Dylan flipped off the water then pushed a towel toward her.
“I think you’re ready,” he said from the other side of the shower door, his voice a gravelly rumble.
She dried off and wrapped the fluffy towel around her, sliding the door fully open.
His blue gaze met hers, searching her face in a way that made her know he’d heard her crying, even though she’d tried to muffle the sound of it.
“I’m leaving a T-shirt and gym shorts on the sink for you,” he said. “Your clothes are in the wash.”
“You didn’t have to do that.” She clutched the towel more tightly to herself. Goose bumps rose on her skin under his scrutiny. “This is... I’m not sure what to do next.”
“Get dressed,” he commanded then took a step away from her.
A yawn escaped her as she glanced at the pile of clothes. “I’m not sure I have the energy for that. Apparently, bawling your eyes out is exhausting. I guess that’s why I’ve avoided it for so long.”
He chuckled. “In general, I find feelings overrated and taxing.” He picked up the shirt and pulled it over her head. A part of her wanted to protest. She was a grown woman and obviously capable of dressing herself. But she allowed him to help, grateful for a few minutes of not having to take care of herself, even for such a simple task.
He didn’t break eye contact with her as she put one arm and then the other into the shirt, allowing the towel to drop to the floor as the T-shirt grazed her thighs.
“Shorts next,” he said as a parent might to a child.
Heat flooded her cheeks as he knelt in front of her and she stepped into the soft cotton. “I can manage,” she whispered but didn’t shrug away his touch. The truth was she felt too damn tired to move a muscle. Even if she wanted to make an escape at this point, she didn’t think she had the energy to make it out the door.
As if sensing that she was on the verge of collapse, Dylan scooped her into his arms as he straightened, one arm supporting her back and the other behind her knees.
“I’m making a fool of myself,” she said miserably. “I was supposed to come back for a booty call.”
“Is that all you were interested in?” Dylan asked, sounding entertained as he moved into the bedroom.
“My only interest at the moment is sleeping.”
“I can help with that.” He bent and pulled back the comforter and top sheet on his big bed.
Carrie sighed as she sank against the soft mattress.
“Sleep as long as you want,” he told her, tucking the covers around her. “I’ll take the couch.”
“No.”
He gave her a funny look. “I know you aren’t up for anything but sleep, and I want you to feel safe with me. I promise I don’t care why you’re here, Carrie. I’m glad you are. No pressure.”
“It’s a huge bed.” She yawned again. “Just get in, Dylan. I’m too tired to argue right now.”
One corner of his mouth kicked up. “Bossy,” he murmured then turned off the bedside lamp.
A moment later she felt the mattress sag on the opposite side of the bed.
She was still embarrassed and more than a little disappointed at how this night had turned out. Then Dylan moved closer, tucking his body behind her and draping an arm around her waist. “Is this okay?” he asked.
“More than okay.” Enveloped in his heat, she drifted off to sleep.
* * *
THREE-ELEVEN IN the morning according to the clock on the unfamiliar nightstand. Carrie blinked several times to clear her head. This wasn’t her bedroom.
A rumbling breath from behind her had her alert in an instant. Memories from earlier flooded her mind. Her mental and physical exhaustion, the tender way Dylan had taken care of her. She turned carefully on the mattress, trying not to disturb him.
Not that she had much to worry about. Dylan lay on his back, one arm bent above his head. In the soft moonlight she could see his chest rise and fall in rhythmic breaths. It had been over a decade since she’d seen his body. He was both familiar and not. In the ensuing years since he’d left