Chapter Twelve
Maddox
The next week, the weather turned progressively worse. The day after Halloween, you”d have thought it was December. This wasn”t boding well for our construction, especially because the weather forecast announced heavy rains and possible sleet. Today, it was pouring.
I was en route to Essex when Dean, the head of the construction site, called me.
”Maddox, there”s no need for you to come. We”re already wrapping up for the day and heading home.”
”I was going to suggest you go anyway,” I said. ”They say there”s a strong storm coming. But it makes no sense for me to turn around now. I”m about five minutes away.”
”All right.”
“I”ll come and help you seal everything up.”
“We”ve already done most of it,” he said.
When I arrived, I realized he wasn”t joking. They truly had secured all the equipment already. There was just one car at the site, and I knew it belonged to Dean. He was already behind the wheel but rolled down the window to speak with me.
”Maddox, there”s nothing we can do in this. We”ll come back once the storm”s over.”
The rain was so damn intense that I didn’t even get out of the car.
”Sure, we’ll regroup once this is over,” I agreed.
The rainfall was turning into a storm. I had to get out of Essex before the roads got too dangerous. I’d be surprised if all of our work was still standing tomorrow.
I turned on the radio. The news was alerting residents to head to their homes, stating that the storm would be much worse than they’d initially predicted.
That morning, they”d calculated it wouldn”t hit Essex, but now it looked like it would get the full impact of the storm.
As I passed the adventure park, I tried to gauge if Cami was still there, but I couldn”t see jack shit. The rain was so heavy, I was lucky enough to see the road as I drove right to the main building.
Fuck! Hercar was in the lot. She”d better not be somewhere on the course. It was too dangerous right now.
I jumped up the three stairs to the front porch before bursting inside.
”We”re closed,” her voice rang from the back. Thank fuck she”s in here. ”Please go back to your car. It”s not safe here.”
”It”s me,” I replied.
”Oh, well, that applies to you too.” Her voice was uneasy.
”Cami, why are you still here? You should go home.”
”I”m going to go any second now. I just need to patch this up.”
I didn”t hesitate, just headed straight to the back and into a small kitchen. Cami was frantically bandaging her hand.
”What happened?”
She looked over her shoulder. ”You shouldn”t be here. Really, go home. It”s not safe.”
”Cami.” I stood right next to her. “Let me help.”
”I sliced my hand on the zip line. It”s not very deep, but I can”t seem to bandage it on my own.”
”I”ll do it,” I said.
She stopped in the act of wrapping the bandage around her hand and nodded. ”Thank you.”
She was shaking slightly.
”Are you in pain?” I asked her.
”A bit.”
She”d already cleaned up the wound. I fastened a bandage and then a second one, tying it at the back of her hand, making sure it wasn’t too tight.
”I’ll take you home,” I said.
She glanced up. ”I really want to take my car. And you should get out of Essex. They said the storm is going to last awhile.”
”You can”t drive like this. I”m taking you home.”
She bit the inside of her cheek, closing her eyes. ”You”re right. I don”t think I can drive. I was going to ask Dad if he could come get me, but...”
”I”ll drive you,” I repeated.
”Thank you. All right, but let”s be quick,” she said.
We hurried out of the kitchen. I saw her jacket by the entrance.
”Put it on,” I told her.
”Maddox, it’s really not necessary. Is your car—”
”Put it on!” I insisted through gritted teeth.
She jerked her head back. ”Caveman much?”
”Very much,” I said, holding the jacket out for her.
She put it on, zipping it up, and then we stepped out while Cami quickly locked up. The wind was even stronger than a few minutes ago. This was going to be a clusterfuck.
We hurried into the car and drove off. There was no way I was going to make it out of Essex tonight. I could barely see the road.
”Shit, shit, shit,” she muttered, though I barely heard her over the rain pounding against the car.
”You can turn right here,” she said after a few minutes.
It was a good thing she was here to guide me. The rain was strong, and the fog was very thick. I either drove at a snail”s pace or risked bumping into a car. It took us twelve minutes for the five-minute drive, and by the time we reached her house, the radio announcer insisted that no one leave their homes.
She glanced at me. ”Maddox, come inside. It”s not safe for you to drive back to Boston. Hell, it”s not safe for you to even drive in Essex.”
I looked at her tentatively. ”I’ll go to the Gris to have dinner and book a room if necessary.”
She shook her head. ”Come in. We”ll stay indoors, and maybe the worst will pass in a few hours. Enough for you to drive to the Gris.”
”All right. Let”s go inside, then.”
As I opened the car door, the wind nearly ripped it off its hinges.
”Fucking shit. Don”t open the door. I”ll come help you,” I said.
”Okay.”
I closed it using all my strength and then went over to her side, opening it carefully. I”d never experienced wind like this. Cami stepped out and then pushed her weight against the door as I pressed both hands on it, trying to close it.
”I”ve got this,” I insisted before slamming it shut.
She ran past me, unlocking her front door. After we both walked inside, she closed and locked it. Her home smelled like pines and orange, and it was pleasantly warm.
”Holy shit, that”s quite a storm,” Cami said.
”I agree.”
I helped her take off her jacket before discarding mine. I looked around curiously, noticing how small but very cozy the place was.
”Thank God you came by,” Cami said, pushing her hair behind each ear with one hand.
”How”s your hand?” I asked. ”Is it hurting?”
”A bit,” she admitted. She kept glancing out the window.
”Do you have Advil?”
”It doesn”t hurt that bad. If it doesn”t get better, I”ll take one. Make yourself comfortable.” Her voice was a bit more high-pitched than usual.
We both took off our shoes, and then she led me from the mudroom into the living room. Right away I realized where the smell of oranges came from: she”d hung dried slices at the windows.
She smiled sheepishly. ”It”s kind of my thing. I hang these up after Halloween for the color, you know? And come December, I replace them with Christmas ornaments. It was a tradition Mom and I used to have.”
”It looks nice. I didn”t realize dried oranges would still carry their fragrance.”
”They don”t. I have a diffuser with essential oils, and I often put a citrusy smell in it. So, I guess I”ll get comfortable, um...” She laughed nervously, pointing at the window. ”That”s just gonna get worse and worse. I’ll check the town’s Facebook page too. They usually post updates when there”s bad weather.”
She stood behind the couch, drumming her fingers on the backrest.
”Cami,” I said, walking up to her, ”is my being here making you nervous?”
”A bit. I don”t know why.”
”Then I”ll go. You don”t need to explain yourself.”
”No! It”s not bad nervous, you know?”
I frowned. ”There”s a good nervous?”
She nodded vehemently. ”Yeah, of course.”
”I had no idea.”
”Let”s drink something.” She tilted her head toward a tiny kitchen on the right side of the living room. ”I”ve got hot chocolate. Or I can make mulled wine. Yeah, let”s have mulled wine. It”s fitting for the weather, although you won”t be able to drive after that.”
She spoke very quickly, seeming even more nervous than seconds ago. She was fidgeting and shifting her weight from one leg to the other.
”I can drive the few minutes to the Gris. Come on, let”s make mulled wine,” I said. ”You tell me the recipe and I”ll prepare it for you.”
”Oh, that”s not necessary!” she exclaimed.
”You can’t do anything with that hand.”
”Okay, Mr. Boss Man. At least I can get the red wine by myself,” she said, reaching into an overhead cabinet and taking out a bottle. That was an interesting place to keep bottles. ”I have cinnamon and a few other spices here.” She opened another cabinet, taking out five different spice bags. ”And I have pots there. You can use the bright red one.” She pointed to a cabinet door under the counter.
I crouched, grabbing the red pan, and chuckled.
”What”s so funny?” she asked.
”That every pan you own seems to have a different color.”
”How is that a problem?”
I looked up at her as I straightened. ”I didn”t know pans came in colors. Everything in my kitchen is stainless steel.”
”I never buy sets, just collect stuff over time. I don”t think I ever even wanted to buy a stainless steel one. Life is too short for gray pots.”
”That”s an interesting way to view life. So, what”s the recipe?”
She went to the small bookshelf separating the kitchen from the living area and took out a notebook. It seemed old and worn.
“I know it by heart, but it doesn’t hurt to check.” She put it on the kitchen counter and opened it to a page titled ”Mulled Wine.”
“Is this one of your mother’s?”
“Yes. I’ve added notes, though. This is one recipe I keep changing every year.”
I looked over my shoulder at the shelf. There were several other notebooks there, all similar to this one.
Damn, this woman is something else.
”The wine comes first, obviously. We could technically add brandy as well, but I don”t really like that. It’s too strong.”
”I agree,” I said.
”We should squeeze some fresh oranges into it.” She pointed at her bowl of fruit.
I immediately grabbed a knife and a cutting board from the sink. I cut an orange in half, squeezing both sides into the pot.
Her eyes bulged. ”It pays off to be all manly and muscley,” she muttered.
”Huh?” I asked, starting to laugh.
She blushed, licking her lips. Fuck, she was adorable. I’d never seen her so flustered. Her usual sass was missing, but I liked this side of her too. ”You can add two whole cinnamon rods, a teaspoon of cardamom, two cloves, and one star anise.”
I followed her instructions precisely.
”The last question is how should we sweeten it? Are you more of a sugar guy, or do you prefer honey? I have some artificial sweetener too.”
”What do you usually put in?”
”Sugar,” she admitted.
”Then let”s go with that.” I sprinkled sugar into the pot, then stirred it with the wooden spoon she gave me.
”I swear I love the process even more than actually drinking it. Especially because the cabin smells delicious while it simmers. I usually only start doing mulled wine after Thanksgiving, but if there”s any day that demands it, it”s this one.”
There was a beeping sound. She checked her phone and groaned.
”My friend Miriam says the mayor posted on the Facebook page. The storm is in the ”considerable” category. The wind is stronger than seventy miles per hour.”
Damn it. I”m not getting out of Essex tonight.