as she reached for the towel her attention honed in on the rain, still thumping on the roof, and the wet clothes piled near the chair.
Her throat closed.
She had nothing to wear.
A gust of wind blew the curtain in, and she snatched the towel to her breast. But the wind dropped just as suddenly as it had appeared and the curtain fell straight again.
Wet hair running rivers over her shoulders, Nina first straddled the bath’s rim then, careful of her foot, stepped out and secured the towel under her arms. The door had opened and shut; her companion must have left while she’d been submerged, rinsing out her hair. But where had he gone?
Wondering if she should call out, she instead peeked around the curtain’s corner—and her legs all but buckled.
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