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the shampoo, when she couldn’t feel with her other hand if suds still matted her hair?
    Beyond frustrating.
    In attempting to rinse her nape, water poured into her ears. She hated that echoey, squishing sound in her head. As she adjusted the angle of the spray nozzle, soapy water trickled down her spine, following the crack of her ass to flow between her thighs. When she repositioned the rotating showerhead again, this time to rinse the front of her hairline, she nailed herself right square in the face with the water. For some reason, she screamed, flinging the sprayer aside like it’d been shooting acid rain at her.
    Stupid, stupid, Ginger. What is wrong with you? It’s just water.
    Gritting her teeth, she opened her eyes to see where she’d tossed the sprayer. Thick rivulets of soap slithered down her forehead and puddled in the corners of her eyes.
    She couldn’t see, she couldn’t hear, she couldn’t move. The soap started to burn. “Shit! Shit! Shit!”
    The door banged open. “Ginger? Jesus, what are you—”
    Was that Kane? She shrieked, “Get out! Get out of here right now!” Her eyeballs stung. Her naked body burned with utter humiliation. God. Of all the positions to be stuck in, on her knees, her fat white ass flapping in the wind.
    “Why don’t I—”
    “Get the fuck out? Good plan.”
    The door slammed shut.
    She blindly reached for the hose for the hand sprayer. Unable to see a damn thing, she leaned over too far, smacking her shoulder into the bottom of the tub. “Fuck!”
    “That’s it, goddammit, hold still.” Kane moved in behind her, straddling her upper torso, squeezing his knees on either side of her ribcage. He reached for the hose and placed the nozzle on the back of her head. “Close your eyes and tilt your head down,” he said tersely.
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    Raising Kane
    If Ginger was surprised by how quickly she acquiesced, she was even more surprised by Kane’s thoroughness. His gentleness.
    He rinsed her hair. Her face. Her eyes.
    “I can take it from here,” she said curtly.
    “Like hell. I’m gonna help you to your feet whether you like it or not.” He wrapped his arms around her midsection.
    She sucked in a breath when the muscular backs of his forearms brushed the underswell of her breasts. Her nipples constricted. Her whole body quivered.
    “Steady. I know you’re cold. Let’s get you upright first. Then we’ll see about getting you dried off and warmed up.” He lifted her with almost no effort. Instead of letting her go, he held her tightly against his body.
    She whimpered.
    “Am I hurtin’ you?”
    “No. I’m just…mortally embarrassed.”
    “Listen to me. I am here to help you. With everything. Including this kinda stuff. So all you need to do, Ginger, is let me help you. Can you do that?”
    “No.”
    He laughed. “Tough shit.”
    She nearly smiled through her chattering teeth.
    “No more of this ‘you don’t need my help’ attitude. From now on, I’m gonna stick to your goddamn side like glue, understand?”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “Good.” He released her. “Now brace your hand on the sink and I’ll dry you off.”
    With brisk, but calm efficiency, Kane toweled off every section of her wet body. She had to admit that he didn’t let his gaze linger on her naked body parts. Until he had to help her get dressed. He muttered something about going straight to hell.
    Kane slipped the straps of her favorite lime green bra up her arms and pulled the cups to cover her breasts. After he snapped the front clasp of the separate sections together, his fingertips swept the deep “V”
    of her cleavage, lingering on the upper curves.
    Her nipples hardened at his touch, despite the echo of her father’s warning about Kane’s deftness with female undergarments. He’s helped plenty of women out of their clothes.
    He lifted a brow at her shirt choice. “A button-up, long-sleeved western shirt?”
    “I thought it’d be easier to put