She adjusted the water in the bathtub and poured in some of Addy’s bath salts, then dropped her clothing in a pile on the floor. Before the tub was half-full, she sunk down into the water and closed her eyes at the wonderful sensation of warmth surrounding her body. She leaned her head against the end of the tub and had almost dozed off when she came awake with a jerk and quickly turned off the faucet.

“I would have felt terrible if I had run this tub over,” she muttered as she dunked her head under the water and then worked shampoo into her wet hair, rinsed, and used a coconut-scented conditioner. After that she just leaned against the sloped back of the tub and didn’t waste a single bit of the warmth.

Once the water went lukewarm, she stood up and wrapped a wonderfully thick and fluffy towel around her head, and another one around her body. Towel-drying her curly, shoulder-length hair, she noticed a hair dryer on the vanity, and a broad smile broke out across her face.

“So, cowboys do dry their hair,” she said to her reflection in the mirror. “Why does that surprise me. They are proud of their hair, and as women, we wouldn’t want to go out with a guy with nasty hair.”

You take time to make yourself presentable too, her mother’s voice in her head reminded her.

“Whose side are you on?” she asked as she used the dryer.

Her mother didn’t have anything else to say, so Stevie fumbled around in the suitcase at the end of the bed and brought out a pair of underpants and pajamas. The flannel brought back memories of long nightgowns in the same fabric that her mother always bought special for her at Christmas. Little girls, according to her, should wear a granny gown when they opened their presents from under the tree.

“Little girls?” Stevie smiled at the memory. “I was thirty years old when you bought me my last flannel gown. I still have it, Mama, even though I only wore it the one time for a picture beside the tree.”

Stevie crawled in between sheets that smelled like she imagined heaven would—all fresh and sweet like her mother’s did right out of the dryer. Cody said that good memories would help her find closure. Maybe he was right. She snuggled down into the pillow and closed her eyes.

In seconds, she was asleep and dreaming of that day all those years ago when Cody Ryan told her that he had to follow his dreams and help other people. Only instead of turning away with tears in her eyes, in the dream she wrapped her arms around his neck and planted a hot, steamy kiss on his lips.

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

In a work of literature, the villain defines the heroine.