Rough and Rugged: A Meet Me In Milwaukee Charity Anthology

Chapter Six

Griffin

It’s been a long time since I woke up next to a woman. Nora’s so damn soft and warm beside me, my eyes have to fight against the sun streaming in from my wall of windows that face the lake. I’m usually awake before the sun rises. But I couldn’t bring myself to move when I woke up two hours ago, falling right back asleep with this woman in my arms.

Nora’s skin is the perfect contrast against my pale complexion, my arm wrapped over her middle. My chest pressed against her back. Her breathing works as a steadying tempo, calming me.

It takes me another thirty minutes before I can move away from her and get out of bed. I’ve got stuff to do today—not to mention working on the electrical at her place. When my phone starts vibrating against my nightstand as I’m buckling my belt, I grab it and rush out the sliding doors that lead to the back deck, careful not to disturb Nora.

I usually drink my coffee out here every morning, watching the waves of the man-made lake ebb and flow. There’s a chair in the corner, just outside of the glass door, with a small table next to it. My phone judders in my hand again, reminding me of the reason I’d jetted out here in the first place.

“Griffin,” I answer after seeing Bob across my screen.

“Griffin, how’s your morning?”

I can’t help but turn back. I can’t see through the window into my bedroom, but I know she’s there. “It’s good, Bob. How’s traveling with the wife?”

His gravelly laugh hits my ear. “It’s great. Pain in my ass, the old bat. But I wouldn’t want to spend the last days of this life with anyone else.”

Bob was always deeply in love with his wife. When I’d first moved out here, this was only temporary, and back when the thought of having a companion was still appealing, I’d promised I’d be just like him. Worshipping the ground my wife walked on, taking care of her, and making sure she knew how much I loved her.

“Listen, my renter sent me a message last night. Nora Benson,” he starts, but I can tell he’s distracted by something happening in the background. “The cabin’s power went out. Did she contact you?”

“Yeah, Bob. I’ve got her.”

“Do we need to start heading north?” he questions, and I wonder for a moment where exactly he is in the United States.

“No. I’m about to head over there now, and I’ll be sure to get the backup generator hooked up in a few days.”

“Good, good.” He hums before adding, “We’re looking forward to flying you out when we get to Colorado in a few months.”

“Can’t wait to see everyone.”

Bob and his wife like to fly me out to wherever they are for Thanksgiving and Christmas so I don’t spend the holiday alone. I’ve spent most of my holidays with them since retiring from the military.

“Love ya, kid, but I’ve got to go. The wife is yelling something and”—he raises his voice, clearly talking to his wife and not me—“she knows I can’t hear her!”

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I’m two hours into the electrical, and I’ve managed to replace the line that caused the power outage and have made note of the work I’ll need to do in the next few days. I’ll have the whole place rewired by the end of the week. I flip the breaker, and the whole cabin illuminates.

Grabbing my toolbox, I turn and find Nora sitting on the stool I’d set on my back deck, naked and painting. She’s got her arm resting over the top of her head, a long paintbrush in one hand as she brushes over the canvas I can’t see.

I moved her painting stuff this morning, not wanting to ruin any of it if I had to open a wall or two. This was also my quick assumption that she wouldn’t mind staying at my place for the remainder of her vacation. I hope I’m right.

Two more days. That’s all the time I’ve got with her, and I intend on getting to know her in every way I possibly can. After last night, I want to know her on so much more than a physical level.

I step out the back door of Bob’s cabin and head toward my own, my sights set on her and not wavering until I’m close enough. “Not too often I find nude artists on my back deck.”

“Mmm.” She smiles, peeking over her shoulder, and I watch as she wipes white paint across her chest. “And what have you been up to all morning?” The yellow hazel in her eyes shines bright as her chin rests on her shoulder.

“Fixing the power next door,” I respond, moving a little closer to her, though the light in her eyes dims. I run a hand down her back, tracing her spine, but she turns back to her canvas. “What are you painting?”

“I don’t know yet,” she mumbles. The colors are a swirl of light yellows and orange, mixed with a deep green and brown, with white covering the top. Not anything I’d assume to mix, but it’s beautiful. “So…” She drifts off for a moment, and I step around to her side, wanting a full look at her. “Is the cabin all fixed?”

“Yep,” I respond, my brows dipping at the disappointment on her face. “But I had to break into three walls. I’ll be able to finish rewiring everything by Wednesday.”

“Wednesday.” She avoids my gaze, her eyes scanning the canvas. “I leave on Monday.”

“Right,” I start, unsure how to verbalize my words. I’ve never asked a woman to stay with me before. I’ve never even asked a woman to stay the night. Yet Nora did with no objection. “I was thinking… maybe you’d just stay here until Monday.”

“Stay here?” she repeats, a smile slowly moving into place. “With you?”

I nod, unsure of how she feels about the suggestion. But then her arms are wrapping around my shoulders, squeezing me.

“I assumed you’d want to kick me out.”

“Kick you out?” My brows dip. “Why?”

“Because I thought since I could stay in the cabin now, maybe you were done with me.” She pulls away, her gaze searching mine. “Maybe you’d want to forget it ever happened.”

My hands move around to her cheeks, sweeping the fallen strands away from her face. “Nora, I couldn’t forget last night if I wanted to”—I press my lips against hers quickly—“and I don’t want to.”

She pulls away from me, settling back on the stool and taking a deep breath. Her perky breasts lifting as she places her hands in her lap.

“I’ve already refunded your stay.”

Her head tips to the right. “Why?”

“Felt right.” I shrug, walking past her and the canvas. “I’m going to make us some lunch. You keep…” I wave a finger toward her easel. “Making beauty, and I’ll be right back.”