I think he’s too busy satisfying another.

We simply stand there, holding each other until the water turns cold.

“This is so much easier when you’re conscious and sitting upright,” I murmur, slowly drawing the comb through Jonah’s beard, feeling his blue eyes intently studying my mouth.

“And I’ve actually consented to it.”

And I’m straddling your lap.

“Shhh. Don’t move,” I scold, frowning as my gaze shifts from side to side examining his jaw, making sure I’ve trimmed it evenly.

“How bad were your hands shaking that night?”

“I was fine while I was doing it. I was totally calm and in -control.”

“And after?”

“Petrified. My dad said I was twitchy.”

Jonah’s head falls back into the couch as he laughs. It’s such a deep, beautiful sound and I’m momentarily lulled by it, admiring his thick throat, imagining my mouth pressed against it.

“You weren’t, seriously, were you?”

“I was scared that I’d gone too far, and you were going to hate me again,” I admit.

“What? I never hated you, Calla.”

I give him a high-browed knowing look.

“No. Even when I was annoyed as hell and chewing you out at Meyer’s that day, half of me wanted to see what you’d do if I just went ahead and kissed you.”

“Really?” I smooth my palm along his jawline, appreciating the perfection. What would I have done? Probably freaked out. He was just the angry yeti back then. He made me angry. And yet now that I’m getting to know Jonah, I don’t know how I ever wasn’t attracted to him, horrendous bushy beard and all.

His eyes twinkle as if he can read my thoughts.

I toss the scissors and comb to the coffee table, satisfied. “There. I’ve fixed you up, as requested. I knew you were secretly vain.”

“Did being your plaything for a bit make you happy?”

“Maybe,” I admit wryly.

“Good. Figured we could both use a distraction.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” I sigh heavily as reality drifts back in. Smoothing my hand over Jonah’s wrist, I turn it to check his watch. “I guess you have to go back to Wild now?” It’s been a couple of hours since he found me curled up in the shower. I was sure he’d have left by now, but I’m so thankful that he hasn’t.

“I don’t want to,” he admits somberly. “Ten years working there and this is the first day I want nothing to do with planes and people. But I should check in with all the guys. They’re probably wondering why Wren hasn’t called yet.”

“Are you gonna tell them?”

“We all know Wren’s not gonna jump on the phone and do it. Some of them have already heard, I’m sure. But, yeah, it’s better they hear it from me than Maxine or one of their passengers. Plus I can’t leave everything to Agnes to handle, not when she has Mabel to deal with, too.” He sighs. “That poor kid. Wren’s like a father to her. This is gonna absolutely destroy her.”

I’ve been so focused on my own pain, I haven’t given much thought to her. Now that I do, I note that there’s no flare of jealousy behind his words, no spark of envy. Only sympathy. “I’ll come with you. Just let me grab my phone from the house.” I plugged it in when I got home from the hospital and left it there, having no desire to talk to anyone from back home.

I make to slide off, but warm, strong hands settle onto either side of my backside, trapping me in place. Jonah’s gaze drifts downward over the fitted “But first, Coffee” T-shirt that Diana had made for me, to where my thighs meet his. He opens his mouth, but then seems to change his mind about whatever he was going to say. Steely blue eyes lift to meet mine.

“What?” I ask softly, smoothing my palms over either side of his jaw again. I can’t get enough of the feel of his beard against my palms. That comment Diana made about how having me shave Aaron’s face was too intimate for her liking? I think I get it now.

Jonah pulls my body flush to his, until his hands are gripping my back tightly in an embrace and he’s buried his face in the crook of my neck, his hot breath skating over my skin, sending my blood racing.

I can feel the hard press of him between my thighs.

He wants me, but he doesn’t feel right asking.

Reaching up to cocoon his head within my arms, I roll my hips, letting him know that it’s more than okay.

The moment Jonah strolls into Wild’s lobby, he seems to shed the coat of reluctance he wore in the car ride over, my hand cradled in his.

“Working hard, Sonny?” he calls out in that booming, deep voice, startling the Alaska Native couple huddled in a far corner—the only passengers waiting in the lobby.

Sonny, who was leaning over the front desk chatting up Sharon, stiffens immediately. “I was just finishing up my break. I’m gonna get back out there. We’re almost done loading up for the last few runs,” Sonny babbles, already taking backward steps toward the exit.

Jonah drops a hand on his shoulder. “Sounds good. Tell Clark to come see me when he’s got a minute.”

“Will do.” Sonny bolts out the door.

“You are a horrible human being,” Sharon hisses with an accusatory tone.