Page 9 of Mountain Mens' Curvy Obsession

Chance gives me a long, heavy look. “I’m positive.”

I leave him in the bedroom as I make my way into the en-suite bathroom. The tub is almost singing to me as I stare at it for a moment. Slowly but surely, I turn the faucet on and let the hot water fill up as I peel the clothes off my battered body. Not delighted with the smell, I toss everything into the hamper and breathe a sigh of relief at the sight of a shower gel bottle on the edge of the tub.

“Okay. You’ve got this,” I say to myself as I stop by the mirror first.

The bandages on my head need to come off. Chance will help me with fresh ones, but first, I need to see what I’m dealing with. Wincing from the sting, I reveal my temple, gasping at the sight of an ugly bruise smack in the middle of a healing gash.

“Oh, that’ll leave a scar,” I whisper.

That’s the least of my concerns, though. Most of my right side sports bruises, gradually turning from reddish purple to a mix of blue and green. Everything else is closed up, nice and clean, courtesy of the mountain men and their excellent care.

I make sure to hold on to the wall-mounted towel rack as I climb into the tub and lower myself into the hot water.

“Lord, have mercy,” I gasp as the warmth seeps through my very soul and plucks away at my discomfort, one deep breath at a time.

Before long, I’ve added a few drops of bath oils into the mix, and I’m soaking in the hot, steaming goodness. My muscles relax as I give myself a few minutes before I start scrubbing the nightmare out of my skin.

A knock on the door makes me sit up.

“Are you okay in there?” Chance asks from the bedroom.

“Yes, just enjoying a soak.”

“Good. I’m right here if you need me.”

“Thank you! Oh, by the way, where are your brothers? I haven’t seen them today.”

A beat passes before Chance answers. “They’re downstairs. Nico is probably asleep but judging by the smell coming from the kitchen, Booker is handling lunch today.”

“There’s no way we’re getting out of here today or tomorrow, right?”

“I’m afraid not. We need to wait for the snowstorm to pass, but I’m going out on the porch in a bit to clear some of the snow off. We need to be able to open the door and the windows, at least.”

“I see…”

Minutes flow as Chance keeps me company through the door. We talk about past blizzards and how they survived each extreme event, about the protocols they have in place as I bathe.

“I didn’t peg you guys for the floral shower gel type,” I chuckle as I try to get up from the bathtub. “Shit!”

Either my foot slips or I lose my balance, but I land on my ass with an embarrassing thud.

A split second later, the bathroom door swings open and Chance rushes in. “Are you okay?” he asks, his breath short and his brow furrowed with worry.

“Yeah,” I gasp and bring my knees up to cover a rather vulnerable position.

“Sorry,” he stops and points to the towel rack before he turns his back on me. “You’ve got towels there.”

“I think I slipped,” I groan, my buttocks burning.

The tub is drained, and my ego is deeply wounded, but I manage to grab a towel and cover myself to the best of my ability.

“Are you hurt?” he asks.

“Just my pride on top of what I sustained in the car crash, I guess.”

He chuckles softly. “Let me know when you’re ready, and I’ll help you out of the tub.”

“I feel like an invalid. So frickin’ helpless,” I grumble.

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