We’ll see? Ivy shot a look over her shoulder to ensure he was still facing the wall. He was, of course, so she did as he said, rolling up one pant leg at the ankle, then the other. She decided to try a similar thing with the waist by gathering the loose fabric, folding it down once, and then cinching it into a knot. “It’s huge,” she said, staring at the softball-sized wad of fabric at her belly. “It’s like I’m having a thermal baby,” she laughed.
“You dressed?” Easton asked from his spot against the wall.
“Yeah, you can turn around.” She fiddled with the hem of the oversized shirt, wondering if she could get it to cover the knot, but it only looked worse. Who cares, Ivy? An irritated inner voice came. But she cared. She was with one of the most seriously handsome men she’d met in person.
“Here,” he said, moving toward her. “There’s a way, if you don’t mind me showing you, to make it more flat. My sister was a belly sleeper, so the big knot wouldn’t do…”
He glanced down at the lump before setting his eyes on hers. They were brown. A gorgeous brown that reflected the gold of the flickering flames. “May I?” he rasped with a nod in her direction. “I promise to keep things…decent.”
Ivy nodded, lifting her hands in surrender mode. Her heart thudded wildly out of beat as he approached the messy knot of fabric with his large hands. She glanced up at his chiseled chest, the muscled contours accented by the firelight’s shadow, and felt her face flush with heat.
“Here,” he mumbled, untying the mass. The back of his warm fingers barely grazed her skin as he worked. As promised, he seemed to keep focused on not exposing anything below her belly button. “Folding the top down like that was good,” he said, “but let’s do that after we tighten it up. If we twist it once, cinch it real good, and then pull it back like this…” He gave each side a good pull. “Ah, looks like you’re small enough I can actually just snap the top button in the back. Here, spin around.”
She did as he said, another slight thrill darting through her as his hand cupped her hip. A rush of goosebumps rippled up her arms.
A tiny little click sounded. He proceeded to roll the waist down once, then twice. “There,” he said. “All done. I used to give my sister a swat on her diapered butt when I was through, but I’ll spare you.”
She chuckled and glanced down, appreciating the way he’d managed to create a fairly flattened twist in the front. “Thank you.”
Ivy combed her fingers through her damp hair, her mind already rushing back to the interview. She spun back to face him, but dropped her gaze to her bare feet. How would she be able to bring it up? As it was, he’d done enough kind things for her that the two were wildly off balance. Could she really pester him for an interview after all of that? And at a time like this?
Marsha’s text shot to her mind. She didn’t have much of a choice.
“I’ve got a pair of socks for you,” Easton blurted, seeming to just notice her feet. He retrieved a thick pair of oatmeal-colored socks and hurried back over to her. “You could probably fit both of those tiny feet into one sock, but I wouldn’t advise it.”
She laughed.
“Might make dancing with me in the firelight a little…”
“Impossible?” she offered, trying to ignore the thrill that shot through her at the image of dancing with him.
“I was going to say awkward, but that works too.”
“Well then,” she said, plopping onto the bearskin rug he’d spread out beneath her, “I better give these little piggies their very own socks. Did you know that of the two-hundred and six bones in the human body, fifty-two of those bones are in the feet?”
“Seriously?” Easton piped.
“Yep. Twenty-six in each foot. Crazy, huh?”
Easton surprised her by taking a seat on the floor as well. “Yeah, that is.”
Ivy shoved one warm sock onto her left foot, then moved to the right one, recalling another interesting tidbit. “Also,” she said, “fingernails grow way faster than toenails—like three times faster—which is good because I can’t imagine keeping up on pedicures if they didn’t.” She smoothed a hand over her sock-covered feet. They were warming already. “Ah, these feel wonderful.” She glanced up to see him nod slightly, the look of satisfaction on his face. As if it were his job to keep her warm and dry and safe…
“Good,” he said under his breath.
“Thank you,” she added.
“Any time.” His gaze drifted to her upper arm. “Looks like the neck of the shirt is a little big.”
She glanced down to see that it had slipped off her shoulder. A blush rose to her cheeks as she slipped it back up to her neck—not that it had revealed anything. Inwardly, her mind was fixed on the developing mystery before her. It was just that, with Easton, she felt bad for bringing up the interview, but that didn’t exactly make sense. If he were anything like the other bachelors, he’d be itching to get that next step out of the way. Which meant that by recording it before her phone died, she’d be doing him the favor.
So why didn’t she get the impression that he was itching to do it like the others had been?
It was time to find out.
Ivy retrieved her phone and took a look at the screen to check the battery.
“We won’t get service unless we head back to the lodge,” Easton said, guessing at her intent.
“Oh, I’m actually wondering if we can do your interview. Before I run out of battery, that is.”
His eyes widened. “Right now? With your phone?”
Ivy nodded. “It’s just for the producers to make a final decision. It doesn’t have to be professional. Ideally, I’d record it on two devices, but since the camcorder’s in the SUV, we may as well just do this.”
“Ah.” He tipped his head back, then nodded a few times. “So we still have to do the interview, huh?” There was that sense of dread she detected.
“This is your chance to go to the final round,” she couldn’t help but say. “The others were thrilled about doing the interview, but I get the idea that you’re not.”
He didn’t argue.
“Why is that?” she ventured.
Easton’s handsome face pinched in contemplation. He rubbed a hand over his stubble covered jaw, the look in his eyes reaching far off, distant places. Searching. Grasping.
Ivy felt herself lean closer with anticipation. What was going on in this guy’s head? And why was it taking him so long to answer the question? Was he trying to think of what she wanted to hear? Was he afraid to speak the truth?
“Just be honest,” she urged.
Easton cleared his throat and, at last, fixed his brown eyes right on her.
A splash of warmth hit her heart as it beat out of rhythm, as if trying to sync with his. She almost wished that it could. Perhaps the connection would give her glimpse at the inner workings of his mind. The mind of that strong, quiet, heroic type.
“The honest truth is,” he started, bending his leg to prop an arm on his knee, “I lost a bet. Doing a show like this reality bachelor whatever…I can’t imagine anything worse.”
What!