Page 39 of Ocotillo Kisses
“Stop teasing her and let her get warm,” his mother chided, and Britt jumped to her feet and ran up the stairs to the bathroom.
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BRITThadn’t been upstairs in over a decade, and the surroundings were at once familiar and alien. She couldn’t let herself think about the times she’d crept up here with Con, the times they’d pretended to do homework but ended up making out on his bed, the times his sister had barged in on them, sometimes on purpose, sometimes on accident.
She wouldn’t let her mind go down that path, especially not after that kiss in the barn, that kiss she’d wanted to continue. The kiss that had been both familiar and new. Con had matured, both his body and his technique. And after that ride down the hill on the back of his horse, plastered against his strong back—
She ducked into the bathroom and stripped off her clothes, turning the hot water on blast. She stepped under it and nearly moaned in pleasure as the heat warmed her extremities. She threaded her fingers through her hair and closed her eyes, tilting her face up.
No. She had to shake herself out of these thoughts. She wasn’t staying in town. No reason to give him hope that she was. She knew for sure he wouldn’t leave now, wouldn’t leave his mother alone. And she wasn’t going to give up her life to come back here and be a rancher’s wife, live the same life Alexis was leading. That was not for her.
So yeah, as much as she’d loved that kiss, she couldn’t repeat it.
A soft knock sounded at the door, and then it opened. She gave a little screech of alarm when she heard Con’s voice.
“I brought you some dry clothes. We can toss yours in the wash if you want. At least in the dryer so you don’t have to carry them home dripping wet.”
Speaking of dripping wet, she was standing here in the shower and he was in the doorway of the bathroom. When she peeked around the not-exactly-opaque curtain, he was staring at the ceiling, still in his own wet clothes.
“Thanks, but maybe we could just put them in a plastic bag? I don’t want you to go to any trouble.”
He bent and collected them from the floor. All of her clothes, including her underthings. Years ago that would have excited her more than distressed her.
“Con, really, don’t worry about it.” She was fairly particular about her laundry, but she didn’t want to say that. He already thought she was high-maintenance.
“No problem. I’ll, ah, get out of here.” He took a step back, still focusing over her head. “Just don’t use all the hot water.”
Was this his shower? She looked around, and yes, it seemed to be, with the basic soaps and shampoos. She thought maybe it had been a guest shower, but really, did they have guests here? She hadn’t even thought about conserving the water, really, so popped her head back under the stream of water to rinse off so she could jump out. She waited until she heard the door close, then shut off the water.
After toweling dry, she touched the clothes he had left for her. An old high school t-shirt, a sweatshirt and some thin knit pajama pants with a drawstring waist, with an Aggie print.
She was pretty sure she had bought these for him back in the day. And he had kept them.
No underwear, of course, but she dressed, putting the t-shirt underneath the sweatshirt. She was pretty warm after her shower, but the t-shirt fabric was thin. Both tops were long enough to cover her bottom in the knit pants.
Only when she reached into the pocket did she remember her phone.
Oh. No.
She bolted out the door and down the stairs, calling for Con.
“Britt? What’s wrong?” Alexis asked.
“My phone! It is in my pocket. My jeans!” She pivoted to run through the kitchen to the laundry room, where Con was closing the lid. “My phone, my phone!”
He gaped at her a moment and she lunged past him to shut off the flow of water into the machine. She plunged her hand into the soapy water and pulled out her jeans, which were wet, but she didn’t know if it was from the rain or the washer. She peeled back the denim from the phone, forced it from the wet fabric, but she wasn’t hopeful when she tapped the button to turn it on.
Nothing.
“Oh, no,” she groaned, and turned to Con.
To see he was standing there, shirtless, and she was just now noticing. Okay, there was something definitely wrong with that.
“Is it okay?” he asked, reaching for the phone.
“It’s not turning on.”
“Let’s put it in rice. That’s what you’re supposed to do, right?”
