Sadie's Little Christmas: Holidays at Rawhide Ranch Book 3 by Maren Smith

Author:Maren Smith [Smith, Maren]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Red Hot Romance, Inc.
Published: 2020-11-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 6

Sadie lowered herself into the bottom of the jacuzzi tub, settling in hot water up to her waist with a thick blanket of floating white bubbles so high, they brushed the undersides of her breasts.

She had to feel for the toys. She liked the starfish. She’d have liked it even better if he’d stuck around so she could squirt him with it. She’d keep the starfish hidden under the bubbles until she was ready to attack—he’d never see it coming. She giggled, the sound of it echoing startlingly loud in the otherwise empty bathroom.

Wilting, she laid back and sank down until she was as buried as she could be without breathing in either water or bubbles. The tub was Derek-sized. Her toes barely touched the other end.

Something drifted under her butt. Sitting up, she pulled out a blue water crayon. Swiveling sideways, she looked at the stark white tiles on the wall and wondered how many people had drawn on them before her.

Hesitantly, she moved in closer to the wall and started to draw a face—round circle, two eyes, a cute petite nose with just a smattering of freckles, and… stopped when she got to the mouth.

She wasn’t an artist and never had been. Even as a kid, when she’d had to draw things for school, she’d sucked at it. Stick figures were the worst because everyone expected them to be smiling, happy people reflections. She’d never drawn hers smiling or happy. If they were supposed to be a reflection of her, shouldn’t she draw them the way she felt?

What kind of mouth did one put on a lonely stick figure? What kind of mouth did unwanted ones have when they were worth so little that one tiny accident would lead their roommate to prefer murder over attempted resuscitation?

She got halfway through a straight-line mouth before she erased the whole thing with her wet washcloth. She hated stick figures, anyway.

Setting up a board for hangman instead, she played it, but it wasn’t a lot of fun against only herself. Erasing it, she set up another one.

“Derek,” she called out. When he didn’t answer through the cracked bathroom door, she sloshed around in the tub and called out again, louder, “Derek!”

He still didn’t answer.

Getting out of the water, she wrapped herself in the soft blue towel he’d provided and padded in wet feet across the tiles to see if she was really as alone as it suddenly seemed. But no, he was, in fact, sitting in a chair he’d moved directly outside the door. It surprised her to peek out and see him there, reading on his phone.

She said, “I-I called you.”

He didn’t look up from his phone. “I don’t answer to Derek today.” Now he did look at her… pointedly.

“Oh.” She blushed.

Closing the door back to the same depth of a crack as he’d left it, she made her way back to the tub. Shedding her towel, she climbed into the lukewarm water and picked up her water crayon again.

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