Wrecked by Shiloh Walker Page A

flashing. She checked the water. “I’m going to let some of the water out and add in some more cold water real quick.”
    As she leaned in, the robe she wore gaped and he had another glimpse of smooth, soft breasts.
Stop it, Zach
.
    He swallowed and doggedly stared out the back window at the rock garden and pond she had set up. There was a sitting area, too, with an outdoor fireplace. They’d spent many a night out there. Nights where he’d tormented himself and watched how firelight danced over that soft, ivory skin—
    “How does it feel?”
    Don’t ask
. Mentally, he swore and then looked down at his hand. It was still red. It still hurt. And he had a feeling it was going to blister, too. “It hurts like a bitch,” he said honestly. “Ah, why don’t you go get dressed? You can turn the bacon down, or off, for a few minutes. And I’ll just stand here and not mess with anything since I seem to be screwing everything up today.”
    A faint blush crept up her cheeks, dusting her skin with a soft pink. “Yeah. Probably not a bad idea to grab some clothes. I’ll be back in a few.”
    “Take your time.” He flexed his hand and wiggled his fingers. “I’m at your mercy right now. If I try to cook with my head where it is, I’m going to burn the place down.”
    As it was, he was going to walk with a permanent limp or something if he couldn’t get his thoughts on a safer track. Priority number one was seeing Abby in something other than that short, thin robe.
    * * *
    “It’s going to blister,” Abigale said, nibbling on her lip as she pulled Zach’s hand out of the water. They’d soaked it a good thirty minutes while she finished up breakfast, but it was still red. His palm felt rough against hers and his fingers were long. She had to suppress a shiver at the memory of the feel of them on her skin as she studied the burn.
Help . . . you’re supposed to be helping. Not lusting.
    Except she was still thinking about number five on her list. Right?
    “Serves me right,” Zach said, tugging his hand away. “I was distracted and that’s never a good idea with hot grease splattering around, right? Come on. I’m hungry.”
    “Go sit at the breakfast nook. I’ll bring the food.”
    “I can get the food. Why don’t you get us something to drink?” He flexed his hand and added, “I suspect I should stay away from the coffeepot.”
    She laughed. “I don’t think you’re a hazard in the kitchen all of a sudden, Zach.”
    He grumbled something under his breath that she couldn’t quite make out, but as he grabbed the plates, she didn’t see the point in arguing with him. She already had one cup of coffee but she refilled his. He was going on his third cup.
    “You have a bad night last night?” she asked as she put his coffee down.
    He shot her a sidelong look and shrugged. “Didn’t sleep well.”
    They lapsed into silence for a few minutes as they ate although Abigale had to force herself to do more than pick at the food. It was like chewing on sawdust. How in the hell was she going to be able to follow through on number five when lately all she could think about was Zach?
    “You done anything else with this infamous new plan of yours?” he asked, bumping her with his shoulder.
    In the process of slipping a bite of the omelet into her mouth, she froze. She lowered the fork to the plate and sat there as she chewed, stalled a minute by taking a sip of the juice she’d poured for them both. She should have made screwdrivers, damn it.
    “So far, no,” she said honestly. “There’s just the . . .” She glanced over her shoulder at the hip closest to him and then shrugged. “That.”
    He grinned. “It’s called a tattoo. How is it looking?”
    “How would I know?” She made a face at him. “I’ve never had one and I can’t exactly see it all that well. But I’m doing what you told me to do. So . . .”
    “I’ll take a look.”
    As he slid off the stool, her breath froze in her