He’s right. It would be foolish to not be careful. People are dangerous. Strangers can’t be trusted. And anyone who takes you by surprise might end up being the last person you ever see.
I’m excited that I have conditioner to use with the shampoo, and my hair feels softer than normal as I rinse it clean. I quickly soap up my body and shave my underarms since I’ve actually got deodorant to use for as long as the supply lasts.
I’m tempted to stand under the waterfall for a long time after I’m done, just because it feels so good, but Cal will get impatient if he doesn’t hear me moving around. So I step out and dry myself off with a towel. I braid my hair into two long braids since it dries better that way. Instead of my sweaty clothes, I pull on a knit sundress I found at that house on our trip.
It’s way too big for me, so it fits more like a beach cover-up than a dress, but it’s better than my jeans and dirty top.
“Okay,” I tell Cal. “I’m done. I brought the scissors, so let me trim you up before you get under the water.”
He’s scowling as he turns around, but he doesn’t argue.
It took months before he’d let me trim his hair and beard. He wouldn’t agree until I wouldn’t stop nagging him about how, since I’m the one who has to look at him all the time, I should get a say in how presentable he is.
He won’t let me do it very often, but I can talk him into it every couple of months.
He pulls off his gray T-shirt and walks over to the big rock where I’m waiting. But he jerks to a stop before he gets there. “Whatcha wearing, girl?”
I glance down at myself. The dress is made of coral-colored cotton, and one of the straps is already falling down my shoulder. I probably look like a little girl playing dress-up in her mom’s clothes, but he doesn’t have to appear so horrified. “I found it at that house.”
“Barely covers you up.”
“It’s a little big, but it’s not that bad. What does it matter anyway? It’s just you and me here. So will you please sit down and let me do this?”
He’s tense and bristly as he lowers himself to the rock. He keeps his gun between his knees.
Since he’s in a bad mood, I move as quickly as I can, trimming his hair in the back and the sides. I’m never going to be much of a hairstylist, but I can at least make him look neater.
When I move to his front to work on his beard, he’s stiffer than ever, and I feel vibes radiating off him. I frown as I smooth down the rough hair of his beard. “What the hell, Cal?”
He closes his eyes. Actually draws back slightly.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I’m washed with annoyance and also something hurt and defensive. I understand he doesn’t like people touching him, but I’ve done this for him before. Plenty of times. He’s never acted likethis.
“Just hurry the fuck up!”
I blink, shocked at the way he snapped at me for no reason. But there’s no sense in arguing when he’s like this. Very quickly I trim his beard so it’s shorter and mostly squared off. Then I step away from him and pick up the rifle. “Okay. I’m done. I won’t pester you by trying to help again.”
He’s silent for a minute. I don’t know what he’s doing because my back is to him the way we always position ourselves to give each other privacy. But it doesn’t sound like he’s moving. “Sorry, kid,” he mutters at last.
I let out a breath and relax since it sounds like he means it.
I make sure not to let the annoyance distract me. I do my job and keep watch for any intruders or even casual hikers.
There’s nothing but a couple of crows squawking at each other.
I hear Cal moving around in the water behind me. Some splashing, a couple of soft grunts, an occasional slapping sound as he rubs his body clean.
For some reason, I keep picturing him, remembering how his bare torso looks and feels every night as I rub it with lotion. His skin is starting to get better, so the new lotion is definitely helping.
When I’m surprised by a loud exclamation, I whirl around instinctively. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, just stubbed my fucking toe.” He’s leaning over toward his foot, his bare butt displayed clearly for my viewing. He doesn’t see that I’m looking because he’s facing the other way.
I make a sound like a chuckle, but my eyes are moving up and down his body. His long legs. Tight butt. I can’t help it. Then he straightens up and starts to turn around, and I catch a glimpse of his groin. Dark, coarse hair and a surprisingly big penis.
He’s half-erect, and I can’t seem to look away.
I assume it’s just a natural physical response. That happens to men sometimes, right? Unless he’s been imagining porn in his mind as he washes up.