Chapter 5
five
Luke
F un? I don’t do fun. Some days it’s all I can do to survive. No one visits me so there’s no reason to have entertainment planned. I don’t know how to answer her.
“Have any board games? Deck of cards? I just thought it might be easier for us to talk if we were doing something besides staring at each other.” Her grin is honest and infectious and without realizing it, I’ve lost my frown.
How the hell does she make me feel like I’m worth something? I can’t allow myself to dwell on that. She’ll be gone before long and my existence will return to dull acceptance. A thought tickles my brain that I struggle to ignore. My life will not be different after she’s gone. Any disappointment is simply a trick of my mind. I refuse to allow hope to take root.
I’m not sure how long I stand in one place sorting through my muddled thoughts but when I blink to focus on her, she’s picking at her fingernail. As though sensing my mental return, she glances up at me and arches one fine, dark brow.
The need to make her happy surges through me, rocking my thoughts and straightening my spine. In that moment I know that for as long as she’s here, I will do anything for her. Anything. For as long as she’s here. There’s no denying now I want her stay with me.
I need to adjust. What and how I do for myself isn’t important, because now there’s Sierra. Seeing her smile, hearing her laugh is now my goal. And how long has it been since I’ve had one of those? I’m not sure how to accomplish the need to change my sour disposition and grumpy attitude.
I’ll start now—by facing the past. “I, uh, think there might be a game or two upstairs in storage. I’ll go look, if you’d like.”
“That’d be great. Need any help?”
I can’t allow her to see the agonized mess I’ve made with the few boxed memories I’ve hidden up there. She’d have even more questions I don’t want to answer. I didn’t bring much when I escaped here other than the stuff Tiffani stored at my house when she moved out of her boyfriend’s place. Most of that is still in boxes and crates. One partially destroyed crate holds a few things my sister had given me over the years. Including a couple of games.
“No, I’ve got it.”
“Hey, I know it’s not really cold out but could we build a small fire in the fireplace? It seems a shame to spend the night in a cabin without a fire.”
My expression freezes and she blinks then lifts one shoulder in an elegant shrug. “It’s okay if you don’t want to.”
Ah fuck. What did my face just expose to her?
“And I’m so sorry if my request brought up bad memories of your injuries, the burns. I wasn’t thinking.”
Yes, her request brought up memories, but not of the event she’s worried about. I’d had a girlfriend who enjoyed making out in front of the fireplace. Had…until I lost my hand. “No, Sierra, I’m sorry. Right now has nothing to do with my accident. You surprised me, is all. I can start a fire after I’ve found a game.”
“Or,” she says with what looks like a dare in her eyes, “I could start one while you’re gone. I’m an experienced camper, remember?”
“That’s what you claim anyway.” My teasing tone comes easily, surprising me. The way her lips twitch and her eyes sparkle are irresistible, tempting me to kiss her. I take a step closer.
What the hell am I doing? A few hours with a woman and I want to kiss her? Retreating like a the chickenshit I am, I stomp up the stairs without a word. Once the door is closed behind me, I finally take a breath. I don’t understand my reactions to Sierra.
Or maybe I do and just don’t want to acknowledge I can still feel something.
Thank god it doesn’t take long to find the games. Spending time with Tiffani’s stuff is one of the most difficult things I’ve experienced. I won’t get rid of the piles of odd boxes. I wouldn’t even have this much of her if she’d finished moving before her new home was destroyed.
There, in the far corner, I find what I’m looking for. A bag with dice and three decks of cards. An old trivia game our parents enjoyed. A kid’s game for when her son got a little older.
I’ve avoided thinking too much about my nephew. He was not quite three when Tiffani died. She and the boy’s father had separated and when he took custody of Kyle, I’d been summarily informed I had no place in my nephew’s life.
At the time I was so lost in pain and sorrow I didn’t care. I had nothing to offer Kyle. I still don’t. But as I reach for the plastic wrapped game, I spend a few moments wondering how much he’s grown. If he saw me today would he even recognize me?
Would my missing hand frighten him?
Refusing to go down that road, I tuck the boxes against my body and with the bag dangling from my fingers, return to Sierra.
Small flames crackle in the fireplace and I attempt not to be obvious as I do a safety check. If her half smile is any indication, I’m not successful. I won’t apologize for being careful with fire.
She takes the boxes from me. “So, what did you find?”
Dropping the bag on the coffee table, I say, “There’s cards and dice in there. Those games were on top. Fair warning, I’ve never been good with trivia.”
“Aw, that’s a shame. I love knowing and being able to show off all the odd facts in my brain. Like did you know that Alaska has more coastline than the rest of the states combined?”
“I did not know that.”
“Yep and now you do. So trivia’s out—for now. I think I’d like something a little more challenging than Chutes and Ladders. That leaves cards. Poker? Rummy? Go Fish?”
“Not sure I’d trust you with poker.”
Her eyes go wide and innocent then she chuckles. “Probably a wise move.”
“Rummy it is then. As long as we set the rules at the start. Seems like every family plays a bit differently.”
I offer her a beer from my dwindling supply and we settle in to what turns into a cutthroat game. She wins only because I haven’t played in a long time and I’m out of practice. Not because of her smile and the way the firelight glinted off her oddly colored hair. After her celebratory dance, which mesmerizes me, she digs into her pack and proudly displays the ingredients for s'mores.
Sitting side by side on the floor, we toast marshmallows in the fireplace. Since I’m not wearing my claw, I fumble with stacking the graham crackers and chocolate. She saves my marshmallow and neatly creates my treat as though we’ve been making s’mores together forever.
She lights up when we talk about her job and she carries the conversation all evening. The low register and tone of her voice soothes me. I crave the comfort knowing I could listen to her forever. A tiny bit of hope surfaces. Perhaps her presence, her voice, will keep my demons at bay. At least while she’s here.
Shoving that thought aside, I stifle a yawn but my observant Sierra catches me and glances at her watch.
“Oh my gosh. I’ve been talking forever. You should have told me to shut up.”
“No, I enjoyed listening. I hadn’t realized so many advancements have been made in robotics and prosthetics.”
“You get me started talking about work and I never know when to quit. Is it past your bedtime?”
“Maybe.” It is, because sleep is one way I escape the monotony of my life. The therapist I was forced to talk with for Workers’ Comp told me it’s not the best coping mechanism for the long run. I see no reason to change now.
Except to talk to Sierra. Heat settles low in my body. Do I want more than that. My throbbing dick seems to think so. Restless and yes, wanting her, I jerk to my feet. “Let me grab those blankets for you.”
Her silence follows me from the room and when I return with the bedding, she’s extinguishing the fire. I watch as she spreads the embers then covers them with sand from the small bucket next to the hearth. Glancing back over her shoulders she asks, “Am I doing this right, mister fireman?”
She’s doing so much right. Letting the blankets slip a bit covers my groin and my reaction to the way she wiggles her soft, rounded ass as she works. I start to speak but nothing happens. After clearing my throat, I try again. “Very right, Ms. parachuter.”
Her bright laughter as she stows the fireplace tools and turns toward me sends a cascade of awareness down my spine and my dick presses against my zipper. Get away. Now. I’ve got to?—
She takes the bedding then rises to her toes and kisses my cheek. “Thank you. For everything today. I think I have an idea how difficult having me here must be when you’re accustomed to being alone. I don’t want to be any trouble.”
“No,” I manage. “No trouble. Sleep well, Sierra.”
“You, too, Luke.”
Expecting sleep to elude me, I stretch out on my bed and put my hand behind my head to stare at the ceiling beams. At least the blood filling my dick has retreated because I won’t jack off with her in the house. That seems dishonorable somehow. I grimace. Never realized I might still have some honor. At least where she’s concerned.
The soft sounds she makes as she settles onto the couch are a comfort. Shit, everything about her is comfortable. I’ve never felt this right with a woman before. Not even with the woman I’d planned to marry.
Feelings for someone should take time to develop, shouldn’t they? Movies and fairy tales are fiction. There’s no way I could fall for Sierra, or any woman, in one day. Fuck, she’s not just any woman. Sierra. I only want Sierra.
Want, but can’t have.
God help me.