Free Rio Grande Wedding by Ruth Wind

ago.”
    â€œI am sorry.”
    A sad smile. “Me, too.” Briskly, she bent over and dropped a plug in the drain and turned on the water. “Nice and hot?”
    Alejandro nodded.
    â€œWhat we’re going to do here is—” she opened a linen closet and took out a pile of towels she set on the sink “—you can undress to your skivvies, and I’ll help you with whatever you can’t manage, then leave you to the rest.”
    â€œSkivvies?”
    â€œUnderwear. Then I’ll bring you fresh clothes and you can manage the covering-up part, and I’ll help you get dressed.” She smiled. “Okay?”
    Her attitude was so sensible it made his modesty seem foolish. He lifted his shoulder, caught his breath against the pain that spread in a band over his chest and said in a strangled voice, “Okay.”
    Her laughter was soft. “Come on, big boy, hand over the shirt.”
    It was not nearly as humiliating as he’d feared. Her no-nonsense hands braced him as he undressed to his “skivvies” and her strong, small body provided the support he needed to get into the tub. He could not suppress a groan of pleasure as he sank into the water.
    â€œToo hot?”
    â€œNo, no. Perfect.”
    â€œMaybe the heat will ease some of your stiffness. Let me get your hair washed and I’ll leave you to soak a little while.”
    â€œOh, you do not need—”
    â€œAlejandro.”
    It was the first time she had said his name, and in her softly husky voice, it was beautiful. He raised his eyes. She looked down at him, a patient expression on her mouth. “You can’t wash your hair. You can’t lift your arms.”
    â€œNo,” he admitted.
    â€œDo me a favor.” She knelt beside the tub, putting her face on the same level as his own. “I’m a nurse. I do these things all the time. Stop being humiliated every time you run into something you can’t do, okay?”
    A wave of gratitude overtook him. Gripping his knees with his hands, he met her gaze. “When this is done, you must promise you will let me repay you for your great kindness, Saint Molly. Okay?”
    â€œOkay.” She grinned. “Now let me wash your hair.”
    She dippered water into a cup and poured it over his head. “Close your eyes.”
    He did. And finally, he took her advice, too. He gave himself up to letting her take care of him. He let the tension and grief and worry drain from his neck as her fingers worked over his scalp. As if the water washed away his negative emotions along with the grime of two days from his skin, he felt peace invade him. Her fingers were strong, working in the shampoo, then conditioner that smelled of musk. She rinsed it out, pushing his long hair back from his face, and he heard a soft sound come from her. He opened his eyes.
    She ducked her head, hiding her expression, and reached for the soap. “I’m going to do your back, then leave you to the rest.”
    Was that breathlessness for him? He turned to look at her, suddenly feeling the intimacy of the moment, of himself wet and nearly naked, with a woman he had never seen forty-eight hours ago. Steam came off his limbs and the water, making her skin damp and flushed. The T-shirt clung to her breasts and waist, outlining a very female figure that Alejandro suddenly wanted to touch. He was suddenly aware of his body, not the pain in it, but the shape of his shoulders and chest, of his legs sticking out of the water, of his back. He wondered if she found him pleasing, and looked for that knowledge on her face.
    But she did not allow it. She ducked behind him, rubbing his back in circles with the soapy cloth, then efficiently rinsing it off. Then, abruptly, she stood. “Finish up,” she said, pushing a tendril of hair off her face with a wet hand. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
    Perplexed, he nodded, and stared after her as she