After getting out of the shower, I pulled on leggings and a baggy sweatshirt. Then I tied my hair up in a messy bun before heading to Garrett’s room. Not dating meant I didn’t have to put on makeup or wear cute clothes. My attire and my lack of makeup embraced the idea of vacation.
I tapped on his door. “You decent?”
“Mostly.”
That one word helped me mentally prepare. I needed to rub cream into his bruises so they’d heal quickly, and since his bruises were all over his body, anything more than his boxer briefs would inhibit access to said bruises. So, I expected he was wearing only his underwear. And I was right.
He sat on the edge of the bed. “I waited to put clothes on because you said you had something you needed to do to my bruises.”
“You combed your hair.”
A nod preceded his smile. “Combing it was only mildly painful.”
“You didn’t like me touching your hair?” I picked up the tube of arnica cream and squirted a little into my hand.
“Didn’t say that. But I might’ve liked it too much.” He rolled his shoulders. “Where do you want me?”
His nervousness ramped up my feelings of awkwardness about rubbing cream all over him. And I couldn’t very well do it with my eyes closed. The whole point was to get it on the bruises.
“Let me lay out a towel, then we won’t accidentally get anything on the bed.” I grabbed one out of the bathroom and spread it out one handed.
He lay down on his back. “This okay for starters?”
“Perfect.” I touched one of the cuts on his lip. “This is healing nicely. Does it still hurt?”
“Not much.”
“That means yes, doesn’t it?” I gently rubbed cream on the bruised spots on his face. “What happened, Garrett? When I think of someone hitting you hard enough to cause this damage, I ache. It hurts me. Help me understand what happened.”
My fingers glided over his muscles. On his chest, there were only a couple of bruises. His abs had more.
Garrett eyed my hands as they moved down his body. “I can’t really tell you without explaining what I do, and that would make things complicated for you.”
“Seriously, Garrett? You aren’t a spy. Don’t give me the ‘If I told you, I’d have to kill you’ bit. Just tell me.”
He flexed. Either he was trying to impress me—spoiler, he already had—or he was ticklish. I ignored it and kept working.
“You were adamant about not knowing because it would make things awkward with Delaney. And she needs her best friend’s help to plan the wedding. I’m not going to be the reason you can’t talk to her or the reason her—” He snapped his head up off the pillow as I rubbed his thigh. “I almost said too much.”
I moved down to his lower legs. “Tell me what you do. Forget what I said before.” When I finished with the top of him, I tapped his hip. “Roll over.”
“I’m a private investigator.” He shifted and stretched out on his stomach.
I sucked in a deep breath and fanned myself.
“You okay?” He turned his head and looked up at me.
“Uh-huh.” I squeezed more cream into my hand. “Fine. Yeah.”
“Tessa, if you want to skip the rest—”
“Oh no. I’ll finish up really quick.” The private investigator bit made sense, but it still surprised me. “You’re kind of like a spy. That’s cool.” I took another deep breath before rubbing his back. This part of him had gotten the worst of the beating. “Your back is so bruised.” I trailed my finger over one of the worst spots.
Garrett stilled.
“I’m sorry for touching you like that. It’s just . . .” I wiped at a tear. “I’m almost done.” I rubbed cream on him, like I should have been doing instead of caressing his back.
“Looks bad, huh? Those are mostly from boots. I was curled up on the ground.” He reached out and patted my leg. “I didn’t mean for you to get upset.”
“I’m okay.” I finished up my task. “Did you investigate the wrong person? Not that you were tailing the wrong person. I meant . . . were you investigating someone who wasn’t a good person? That question sounds stupid out loud. Of course they weren’t a nice person if they did this to you.” I tapped his shoulder. “I’m done. Let me run and wash my hands.”
I welcomed the small break. Talking had made rubbing the cream on him less awkward this time, but talking about what happened made me want to hug him. I shouldn’t want to hug him. But friends hugged.
When I walked back out, he had on his sweatpants and was pulling a shirt over his head. “Hey. Come here.” He rested his hands on my hips when I moved in front of him. “A woman hired me to investigate her husband. She wanted proof that he was cheating, and she told me where I could expect to find him.”
Anger burned in my chest. “He was a cheater. Figures.”
“I don’t think he was. I think I got played. He grabbed me seconds after I stepped out of my truck, and when he and his buddy were driving me out to his house, the man ranted about stalking his wife and laying my hands on her.”
Being as gentle as I could, I wrapped my arms around him.
He pulled me closer. “I can’t blame the man for protecting his wife. I’d be angry too if I thought someone I loved was in danger.”
“You wouldn’t beat someone to a pulp and leave them on a dark road. On Thanksgiving.”
“Maybe not. But I was set up. I just can’t figure out why.” He rested his head on my shoulder. “That’s why I didn’t press charges.”
“I want to hire you.”
Garrett pulled back with his eyebrows lifted. “I’m currently not taking new cases.”
“Well, when you do, after your hands heal, I want you to investigate something for me. I’ll pay your regular rate.” I stepped back. “I need to bandage your hand and put the brace back on.”
He caught my hand. “That can wait a second. What’s the case?”
“Be careful with your hand.” I wasn’t brave enough to look at him while I spoke, so I focused on his neck where it curved and disappeared under his collar. It was a nice spot, one of only a few without bruises. “Some woman, who I would be perfectly happy leaving on the side of a dark road—that’s not true. I’d feel guilty about that—anyway, she hurt someone I care about, a friend, and I want to know why, and I want her to get what’s coming to her.”
Garrett brushed his thumb against my cheek. “That’s very sweet.”
“She can’t get away with this.” I looked down at his scraped and bruised hand. “She can’t.”
His thumb grazed the tops of my knuckles. “Let’s get those bandages on so you can make my doughnuts.”
“How about some homemade bacon mac and cheese for lunch? I’ll make that first, then tackle the doughnuts.”
“Sounds good.”
I wasn’t dense enough not to realize that despite my frequent pep talks I’d developed feelings for Garrett. Which was silly because I’d spent less than forty-eight hours with him. With this realization, my plan changed from trying not to develop feelings—that train had left the station—to not acting on those feelings.
I needed to figure out what was acceptable in the friend zone because I was pretty sure we’d spent most of the morning outside the zone, pretending we were in the zone.
I rolled out the dough and picked up my doughnut cutter. Making him doughnuts had been on my agenda for this week, and I’d come prepared. “Tell me about where you grew up. About your family”
“On one condition.”
“You’re putting conditions on our friendship?” I grinned as I transferred perfect circles to the tray.
“I want to make sure it’s a two-way street.” He pulled the bag of peas away from his face for a second. “I want to hear your story next.”
“It’s nothing exciting, but I’ll tell you.” Once the tray was full, I tested the oil to make sure it was up to temp. “Are you talking about growing up or . . . other stuff?”
“Whatever you are willing to share.”
I nodded as I dropped the first few doughnuts into the oil. What I was willing to share changed by the minute. Not because of anything Garrett said or did, but because of my level of courage and coherent thought.
He pressed the peas to his face. “I grew up next door to my grandparents. My mom was a little too attached to her family, and that’s why I grew up without a dad. But that’s a story for another time. For me, living beside my grandparents was a good thing. My grandma was like Ava. After school, I’d go to her house, and she’d have cookies and milk waiting for me. When I was in high school, my mom remarried. After that, I spent countless hours at my grandparents’ house or fishing with my granddad. My stepdad wasn’t horrible; he just made me feel like I was in the way.”
“I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “When I graduated from high school, I left for college and never moved back home. On holidays, I’d stay with my grandparents, which infuriated my mom the first time. I feel a little bad about that now. But I stayed where I felt the most welcome.”
I pulled the first batch out of the oil and dipped them in the glaze. “These aren’t ready. You have to be patient.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He chuckled as he poked at the glaze on a doughnut. “Anyway, my stepdad died a year before my mom. My grandparents had passed away a few months before that. It was a rough few years.”
“How long was it after your mom died until you met Beau?” I drizzled on the praline icing and added pecans to the top of each doughnut.
“About three months.” He tugged the tray toward him. “Have I waited long enough?”
“Dig in.” I held my breath as he took a bite.
His moan was a good sign. “Oh, Tessa. This is incredible. I thought they were good before, but warm, they are on a whole different level of good.” He nudged the tray toward me. “Aren’t you going to have one?”
“I don’t eat doughnuts anymore.” I rarely admitted that to anyone, but the words just popped out.
“You are an interesting person, Tessa Best.” He closed his eyes as he took another bite. “I bet you heard a lot of jokes about your last name.”
“Yep. I was the best at everything. My ex was one of the worst about that. He always told people I was his Best girl. I should’ve taken the hint. Being his best meant I wasn’t his only.” I spun around and stuck my head in the fridge, pretending to search for something.
Garrett pretended like I hadn’t just dropped a bomb. “I feel your pain. I had similar issues.”
“Let me guess. You were always Mr. Right.”
“Bingo.” He held up his hand and wiggled his thumb and forefinger. “Leaving these unwrapped is really helpful. Good call.”
“Now you don’t need me to feed you.” I had mixed feelings about that.
“But I still need you.”
What was I going to do at the end of the week when he didn’t need me anymore?
I’d wake up every morning and make the doughnuts just like I’d done for the last seven years.