My Not-Yet Mate and the Thirty-Day Trial novel · Chapter 14 of 24

Chapter 14: The Tub

Joss had his jeans up before I found my second boot.

I zipped my coveralls over the tank top and left the sleeves hanging.

Neither of us said a word, and we walked out into the yard side by side.

A truck sat idling in front of the clinic with its headlights on us.

The driver's door opened, and Keeley Orrell stepped down in clean boots and a pressed shirt.

She held a case of dewormer against her hip.

"Evening," she said.

Her eyes went over Joss's untucked henley and my loose hair and the barn door standing open behind us.

They did not hurry.

"I brought your second case, Dr. Dunnaway. You left it on my counter on Saturday."

"I paid for one."

"Then it's a gift."

She set it on the hood of my truck, very neatly.

"Keeley," Joss said. His voice was level. "It's after seven."

"I know. I was passing."

Nobody passes the clinic barn.

It is a half mile down a dead-end county road, and she knew that, and so did I.

She looked at my collar, then at his.

"You look rested, Joss," she said. "Truly. You looked just like this on day sixteen with me. So attentive. So busy with her needs."

I felt him go rigid beside me.

"Don't," he said.

"I'm happy for you."

She smiled, and it was a good smile, and it was nothing but teeth.

"Keep telling her everything. That's the part that matters."

She got back into her truck.

The headlights swung across us and across the barn and away down the county road.

The red taillights shrank until the dark took them.

"Laney," Joss said.

"I'm fine."

"You went white."

"It's cold."

It was not cold.

Keep telling her everything.

The words sat in my chest next to the email, and I could not tell which one weighed more.

He did not push.

He carried the case of dewormer to the barn and shut the exam room door and turned off the lamp.

Then he came back across the yard and put his big hand on the small of my back, and we walked to the house.

I went straight to the bathroom and turned the tap on in the tub.

It is an old claw-foot, deep and white with a rust stain by the drain, and it fills slowly.

I stood watching the water rise with my arms wrapped around myself.

He leaned in the doorway.

"Want me to go?"

"No."

"Want me to stay out here?"

"No." My voice cracked. "I want you in the water."

He crossed the tiles and turned me around.

He unzipped my coveralls the rest of the way and eased them down.

He took off my tank top and set it on the sink.

He undressed himself fast, without any show, and tested the water with his wrist.

He climbed in first.

The tub is not built for a man his size.

The water rose to the rim as he lowered himself and sloshed a wave across the floor.

He sat with his back against the slanted end and his knees bent up on either side.

He held out both hands.

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