Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
DAKOTA
The water laps cold against my bare skin, goosebumps rising despite the heat blooming in my chest. His eyes darken as he watches me, and even though I’m still angry, I splash him again, harder this time.
“You asked for it.” Julien lunges into the lake, water exploding around him as he charges toward me.
I shriek and scramble backward, feet slipping on the smooth stones beneath. The water slows me down, dragging against my legs as I twist away from his reaching hands.
“Running away?” He’s grinning, circling me like I’m prey. Water streams down his chest, catching in the hollow of his collarbone, creating paths I want to follow with my fingers.
I flick more water at him, hitting his face. “Tactical retreat.”
He wipes water from his eyes and lunges again. This time, his fingertips graze my waist. I spin away, laughing despite myself. He moves faster than I expect, one arm snaking around my middle from behind, pulling me against him.
And everythings stop.
His lips graze my ear, his voice a low, husky whisper. “Got you.”
I breathe hard, not daring to move.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, losing his playful edge. “About the cottage. About not telling you.”
I’m still mad. I have to be mad.
I’m still—
I turn in his arms, needing to see his face. “Are you?”
His face is inches from mine, water droplets clinging to his dark lashes. The hard lines I’ve grown accustomed to have softened, replaced by something that makes my heart skip. The stubble along his jaw has grown thicker, casting shadows that accentuate the curve of his mouth.
“Yes.” His eyes—God, those eyes—hold mine without flinching. “I should have told you. Should’ve—” His fingers flex against my waist. “I’m shit at this.”
“At what?”
“Letting people in.” His thumb traces a slow circle just above my hip bone. “I had a plan. Keep my people safe. Simple. Clean. Then you…”
My pulse hammers. “Then I what?”
“You complicated things.” His voice roughens. “I swear to you, Dakota. I won’t leave you behind.” The intensity in his gaze pins me in place. “Not ever.”
“Why not? I’m slowing you down. Extra weight. Liability.”
“Because I said so.”
“That’s not a reason.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting.”
“Who’s not giving direct answers now?”
He smirks. “Guilty.”
My gaze stays on his mouth. The water moves around us, creating tiny currents that nudge us closer together, so that I can feel his breath mingling with mine, our lips inches apart.
“Dakota,” he whispers, my name a question and an answer all at once.
Please.
Something brushes against my calf. Slick and quick. I shriek, jumping him like a tree.
“What? What is it?” Julien’s arm tightens around my waist, stabilizing me.
“Something touched me!” I point down into the water. Are there such things as water zombies? “On my leg.”
He laughs, glancing down. “Do you like fish?”
“I—what?” My brain struggles to shift gears, still caught in the almost-kiss moment. “Like… big fish?”
“Lake trout, or bass.” He laughs. “I could catch some for dinner. If you want.”
Oh.
My cheeks burn. Of course, there would be fish in here.
“Yes.” I clear my throat. “That would be… nice.”
His eyes crinkle at the corners. “Go ahead and finish washing up. I’ll keep watch from the shore. Careful with the fish.”
With that, he releases me and wades back toward the bank, water sluicing off his body, boxers clinging to his perfectly formed ass as he emerges.
I stand frozen in the lake, my skin still tingling where he touched me.
What just happened? What almost happened?
I almost kissed him. Or he almost kissed me. Does it matter who leans in first when both of us are heading in the same direction?
I dunk myself fully underwater, letting the cold shock my system back to reality. When I surface, I grab the soap and quickly wash my hair and body, trying not to think about how close I came to kissing him.
Or how much I wanted to.
From the shore, Julien scans the area, machete ready, his back half-turned to give me privacy. His profile is sharp against the darkening sky, jaw set in that permanent vigilance that somehow makes me feel both protected and exposed.
I rinse quickly and walk out, grabbing my towel. My clothes are filthy with sweat after our little stroll in the sun. On impulse, I kneel at the water’s edge and scrub them with the remaining soap, wringing them out as best I can.
“Smart,” Julien says. “They should dry overnight if we hang them near the fire.”
I wrap the towel tightly around my body and gather my wet clothes. We walk back to the cabin in silence.
At the cabin door, he pauses. “I’m going to get some firewood. Lock the door behind me. Don’t open it for anyone but me.”
I nod and slip inside, turning the deadbolt after him. The cabin feels empty and too quiet without his presence. I spread my wet clothes over the backs of chairs, arranging them near the fireplace before dropping onto the couch and taking a deep breath.
Exhaustion hits suddenly, my body remembering the long walk, the tension, the cold swim. I lie down, covering my towel-wrapped body with a throw blanket. Just for a minute, just until he gets back.
The next thing I know, three knocks jolt me awake. Darkness has fallen, the cabin pitch black except for the moonlight streaming through the windows. How long was I asleep?
I stumble to the door, checking through the peephole before unlocking it. Julien stands outside with an armful of wood and two fish dangling from a makeshift line.
“Dinner.” He holds up the fish and brushes past me. “Hope you’re hungry.”
I lock the door behind him and follow him to the kitchenette. He sets about building a fire in the fireplace while I check my clothes—still damp.
“How long was I out?” I ask.
“Couple hours.” He glances over his shoulder at me. “Found a lantern in the shed. And matches.”
“Sorry, I fell asleep.”
“You needed it.” He strikes a match, touching it to the kindling in the fireplace. The flame catches, spreading slowly to the larger logs. “Head feeling better?”
“Yep.”
The fire grows, casting a warm glow across the room. Julien places a cast-iron skillet on the grate, then returns to the fish, gutting and cleaning them.
“Did your father teach you that?” I ask.
“Yeah.” His voice softens. “Said every man should know how to feed his family.”
“And every woman?”
“He was old-fashioned. Want to learn?”
“I… Sure.”
He gestures for me to come closer, and I move around the counter to stand beside him. He places one of the cleaned fish on a cutting board, then guides my hands to show me how to remove the skin with a knife.
“Like this.” His fingers cover mine. “Follow the natural line.”
I concentrate on the task, trying to ignore the heat between us.
“We can grill these over the fire,” he says. “Not exactly five-star dining, but it’ll do.”
Once the fish are prepared, we move to the fireplace, setting them in the skillet with a bit of oil and salt from the kitchen cabinets. The sizzle and smell fill the cabin, my stomach growling in response.
We sit on the floor before the fire, the couch at our backs as we watch the fish cook. The firelight dances across Julien’s face, softening his features, turning his eyes to liquid amber.
He already proved he won’t leave me behind.
“I believe you,” I say.
“About what?”
“About not leaving me behind.” I poke at my fish with a fork, avoiding his gaze. “I believe you.”
“Good.”
One word. That’s all he gives me. But I hear it clear as day—the smile threaded through that single syllable, the exhale that follows like he’s been holding his breath. Relief, maybe. Or something close to it.
The fish crackles in the pan. I flip mine, watching the golden-brown skin crisp and bubble. He leans forward, checking his fish, and his shoulder brushes mine. Neither of us moves away.
“You think they’re okay?” I ask.
“I told you, Cameron won’t—”
“I mean the fish.” I can’t keep the laugh in.
His mouth twitches. “Probably.”
I roll my eyes, nudging him with my elbow. “Who’s the one worrying now?”
We eat in silence, the fish flaking apart under our forks. It’s good—better than good, actually. The salt and char from the fire, the tender flesh. I devour mine quickly, hunger overriding any need for manners.
“Good?” He licks the last bit of salt from his fingertips.
“Very.” After days of canned food, fresh fish is the best.
I shiver as the flames die down to glowing embers, no longer throwing enough heat to keep the evening chill at bay. Washing my clothes doesn’t feel so smart anymore.
“Cold?” Julien asks.
“A little.” I rub my arms. “I’ll be fine.”
He stands and grabs another blanket from the back of the couch.
Without a word, he pulls his shirt off, revealing the muscled expanse of his chest and stomach.
I force myself not to stare, but it’s a losing battle.
His skin is a tapestry of stories, with several scars below his ribs and another jagged line across his shoulder.
The low light of the embers catches the ridges of his abs, casting shadows that make my mouth go dry. He’s handsome and sexy in that dangerous way that makes smart women do stupid things.
He settles on the sofa in the corner where the armrest meets the back cushions, spreading his legs. “Come here.”
My heart stutters. “What?”
“Body heat.” He pats the space between his thighs, voice dropping to that low register that makes my skin prickle. “Unless you’d rather turn into a popsicle.”
“Why not the fire?”
“It could attract people or zombies. Better to keep it out.”
I hesitate. The cabin feels colder by the second, the towel offers minimal protection against the chill seeping through the walls, and that almost-kiss at the lake still burns in my memory, making every nerve ending hypersensitive.
Screw it.