When J.T. finally called me into the cabin, I had a generous armload of firewood and wearily greeted the steps to the cabin with a wince as the rough wood cut against my blisters.
He just smiled as he held the door for me. “Perhaps when you split firewood again you’ll ask for gloves.”
Inside, I was amazed to find a large porcelain washtub before the fireplace, the fire he’d lit already having warmed the cabin so the air was hot.
“It’s for you,” he said.
Having cleaned J.T.’s living space top to bottom, I knew there was no tub in the bathroom, just a toilet and sink. That was easy enough for me, I could bathe in a lake and was certain that would be his suggestion. Though this plan held a different fascination, and the hint of lust.
Hauling water he’d heated on the stove, he filled th
