Chapter 16
Rowan
The games were fun and the conversation… too easy to fall into.
After years of silence, how is it even possible that this man is the one reminding me what it feels like to connect with someone.
To lose track of time talking about this and that, only to discover that it’s somehow late afternoon and the rain has finally let up enough to check out the extent of the storm damage.
Jason hands me a pair of women’s rubber boots from the very back of the utility room closet, and it takes me a second to connect the dots.
“My mother’s?”
He nods, pulling on his own. “Dad wanted her to have everything she’d need out here. And then, I guess he felt like getting rid of them would be too final. Or maybe he thought you’d be out here, like this.”
I don’t think Ed ever would have imagined me coming to pack up the cabin he inexplicably didn’t leave to his son after a death that came decades before it should have.
Jason must be thinking along the same lines, because he huffs a short laugh. “Or not like this. But, you know.”
I smile. “Yeah, I do.”
The boots are a little small, but I’m glad to have them traipsing through the storm’s aftermath. The grass and earth are soaked, and with every squishy step we take, our feet sink into the ground and more mud and muck builds up.
There’s debris everywhere. Nests, twigs, and smaller branches light enough to get caught in the wind litter the paths and the clearing around the cabin.
There’s a larger leaf-covered branch on the roof, along with tons of smaller ones.
But it’s the downed tree across the path to the dock and the fallen limb from a mature oak that’s roughly the size of a truck and completely blocking access to the shed that take priority.
Jason rubs his neck, looking around. And even though I don’t know this man that well, I have the distinct sense he’s searching for someone who’s no longer here to chime in with some sage advice or maybe just a commiserating chuckle.
This time, I don’t stop myself from reaching out to lay a hand on his arm.
He turns to me and swallows hard. And then after a bracing breath, he says, “One guess where we keep the chainsaw.”
The shed. “Think we could pull this thing out of the way enough to get to the door?”
“Yeah, and I’m pretty sure we’ve got some cordage in one of the upper utility cabinets. Wait here, and I’ll grab it along with my axe.”
Oh, no. Lumberjack Jason is the dead last version of this man I need to be confronted by right now. Not after the way we woke up together.
The whole flex-and-release mega-muscles show starts running through my mind, and an involuntary hum of appreciation slips free.
“You okay?” he asks from a few steps away.
“What? Oh yeah, fine.” Idiot! “Just thinking about how good that… umm… hot chocolate was last night.”
Brow lift.
Then, “Sure, okay. Well, umm, if it stays cool like this, we can warm up with some more this afternoon.”
Between the burning heat of embarrassment and this other heat that seems to be ratcheting higher through every interaction I share with this man, warming up isn’t really a problem.
Jason disappears into the cabin, and I turn back to the fallen limb with so many branches and floofy explosions of vibrantly green leaves, I can’t even see the center, let alone reach it.
Add to that the dulled sensitivity from wearing work gloves and I’m kind of flying blind.
But after dodging some sharp bits, I get a hold of a branch about the size of my arm.
It feels like there’s some give here. Adjusting my hold, I give it a hard tug.
Movement!
I think of how Jason looked seeing the damage to his island. And that heartbreaking moment when habit had him searching out his dad.
I want to be able to lighten his load. Maybe give him a reason to laugh or smile. Something.
I think there’s just enough that maybe if I can tip it forward just a bit, gravity will take over and it’ll roll away from the shed enough so we can squeeze behind and get in the door.
Jason’s still inside, and I’m loving the idea of him coming back out, axe in hand, to see me standing in the open doorway of the shed, chainsaw raised above my head like the guy from that cult classic Jill made me watch.
“Rowan! Hold on… Wait for me!”
No way, buddy.
I want to be the one to make things easier for once, instead of harder.
I drop my hips, sinking lower for more leverage until gravity takes over and, amid a series of creaks, groans, and snapping pops, this giant gnarled limb starts to shift on its own.
Yes!
“No!” Jason calls from behind me in time with a louder snap and collapsing sort of forward roll that I no longer feel quite in control of.
Oh, noooo.
I try to jump aside, but the mud has a hold on my boot, and I trip, ending up on my butt.
“Rowan!”
The massive limb rolls in my direction, branches spearing the ground less than an inch from my feet, snapping as the whole thing continues its forward momentum, bringing a single broken spike in a downward arc.
Oh God.
Panicked, I scramble, hands sliding through the mud as time slows and my body goes numb with the realization I can’t get out of the way.
The air punches from my lungs, shock and fear blurring the world around me, turning it over and again as I roll within the cage-like hold of the 220-pound juggernaut who just barreled into me.
We roll to a stop several feet clear of the danger zone. I’m on my back, staring up into Jason’s stricken face.
“Are you hurt?” He’s braced above me on one arm, our legs tangled more intimately than even this morning.
I can see his concern, feel his chest working hard and fast against mine as he frantically searches my eyes. I want to comfort him, but when I open my mouth, no sound releases.
His face twists as he pushes himself up to kneel, one knee between my legs and one at my hip, both hands checking me for injury.
“Rowan, tell me you’re okay,” he chokes out, a pleading quality to his voice I’d do anything to take away… But whether it’s the shock or the air being knocked out of me, all I can do is nod and hope I mean it.
Not good enough.
“Talk to me,” he begs, hands moving over my shoulders, collarbones, each arm and hand.
What happened to my gloves?
He moves each finger and then gently rotates my wrist before sliding his hands under my back and hips. He cups my jaw and threads his fingers into my hair to test my scalp.
My senses are coming back online, bringing a tingly awareness of his careful touch and gentle prodding.
I try again, and this time I’m able to whisper his name.
Jason’s breath rushes out in a gust like he’d been holding it for a month, and when he looks away, I’m almost positive I see his lips move in a silent thank you.
But then just as quickly, he’s refocused. “Tell me what hurts.”
My voice is unsteady after the adrenaline surge and break from breathing, but aside from being stunned and a little shaky, pretty sure I’m fine.
“Just my pride,” I manage, steadier now.
Half-wild eyes flash confusion, like he doesn’t understand. Like he’s beyond levity.
So I put my hand over his at the side of my face, brushing his knuckles with my thumb. “Hey, I’m okay.”
Because of him.
“Really… you’re sure?” The way he says it, it’s like he’s afraid to actually believe it.
“Promise.” I bring my other hand to his face, the palm absorbing the rough scrape of his stubble as he turns into my touch.
“If anything happened to you—” He swallows, his brows drawing together like the words alone are more than he can bear. I get it. He lost his dad, and now the situation with my mother and the cabin.
The last thing this man needs is some woman getting killed on his island.
When he lifts his head, there’s something different in his eyes. A primal sort of blaze that stirs an awareness in me that shouldn’t exist.
For one heart-stopping moment, I see it. The battle raging behind those too intense, too blue eyes as they land on my mouth…
No. I can’t be seeing what I think I’m seeing.
Maybe I bumped my head.
The tether on his restraint stretching taut as that look lingers long enough that I can almost feel the heat of it against my lips.
His jaw flexes, and his fingers tighten incrementally in my hair. And I most definitely did not bump my head because that slight tension feels unbelievably good.
“Jason,” I whisper, the ache of a desire I never let myself acknowledge edging his name like a plea.
In the next beat, his mouth meets mine in a crushing kiss.