Chapter 2 #2
I look around at my surroundings and turn the hot water on.
It comes out fast and hot and I breathe out a sigh of relief.
I peel my wet clothes off and quickly wash the mud out of everything and squeeze them out.
I put them in the sink to try and let them drain, before I climb under the hot water and let it stream down over my hair.
"Feels good." I feel myself begin to relax for the first time in hours. "What a nightmare of a day."
Jack
I hear the shower turn on and I march into the kitchen.
"This place is a fucking mess." I quickly clear the dishes out of the sink and straighten up the living room.
I throw the cushions into place and snatch up a few shirts that are lying over the back of a chair.
I hear a scratching at the door, and I storm over and open it to see Rex, sopping wet and wanting to be let in.
"What do you want?" I snap. He looks up at me. "No," I whisper angrily. "You're not coming in, you're covered in mud." He goes back on his hind legs and lets out a playful bark. "I can't fucking believe you humped her leg."
He woofs again and runs back out into the pouring rain thinking this is the best game of all time.
I slam the door shut. "Damn dog is fucking insane" I walk into the bedroom and snatch up the clothes that hang over the back of a chair in here, too. I turn the lamp on and straighten up the bed linen.
I hear the shower turn off and I hurriedly continue to clean like a maniac. I pick up my shoes from the floor and throw them in the closet. I straighten the top of the dresser and throw the cushions onto the bed.
I hear the bathroom door open. "Umm…. Jack." She calls.
I smirk, I like the sound of her saying my name.
"Yeah," I call as I head back down the hall.
I find Holly peeking through a crack in the slightly opened bathroom door.
"What's wrong?" I ask.
"I um," she hesitates as if embarrassed. "You said you had something I could borrow to wear?"
I stare at her, wrapped in a towel, big brown eyes, perfect white teeth and olive skin, water beading on her bare shoulders. Her long dark hair is wet, and damn, she looks good enough to eat.
No clothes.... I like you naked.
"Sure." I glance back down the hall toward my bedroom. "Just a moment."
I march back into my bedroom and begin to rat through my drawer at double speed as I look for something suitable.
Damn it, why don’t I have any spare lingerie laying around? I smile as I imagine passing that through the crack in the door and the horrified face she would pull.
I grab a pair of boxer shorts and a white T-shirt. I go to the wardrobe and find a black bathrobe. Finally, I have a good use for this damn thing. I walk back down to find that the bathroom door is now closed, and I knock.
"Holly."
She opens the door slightly and peers through it as if I'm a wild animal.
"Here you are." I pass the clothes through the crack. She smells clean and like soap… my soap. Hmm… I get a visual of what she might look like under that towel and I feel my cock twitch in appreciation.
Stop it.
"Thank you," she says as she takes them from me and stands on her foot and then grimaces in pain once again.
"Are you okay?" I frown.
She hops as she keeps the weight from her foot. "Yes, I'm fine."
She closes the door in my face and my cock pitches a tent in my boxer shorts. Just fucking cut it out already. I walk into my bedroom and over to the wardrobe and I look for a pair of pants that will hide this thing. Quick, I need to hurry.
Fuck.
I find a black pair of jeans, throw them on and tuck my dick strategically in the waistband and look for the biggest t-shirt I can find. I pull a grey one over my shoulders. I look at my crotch in the mirror. All clear.
"This'll do."
Holly
I quickly dry myself off and pull on the clothes that Jack has brought in for me, a huge pair of boxer shorts and a white t-shirt.
Thankfully there's a robe or otherwise my boobs would be on display without a bra.
I hobble around as I get dressed and I look down at my ankle.
It's beginning to swell. "Shit." I sit down to put my shorts on, unable to stand on one leg.
I clean up the bathroom and wipe the floor with the towel and then hobble up the walkway.
I find Jack sitting at the kitchen counter.
I smile bashfully. "Thank you, I feel a lot better. "
He sips a glass of amber fluid as his gaze drops to my foot. "How's your ankle?"
"It's okay." I shrug.
"Let me have a look at it." In one quick movement, he picks me up and sits me on the kitchen counter and my heart catches, he's so strong. His eyes flick up to me as if asking for approval and I nod. He peels my robe back and picks up my foot as he studies it. "It's swelling."
I nod. He runs his hand up the top of my foot and then underneath the arch. His hands are rough like sandpaper and I flinch.
"Sore?" he asks.
"Your hands are rough."
He breaks into a slow sexy smile as he concentrates on my foot.
"What?" I ask.
"No woman ever complained about my hands before." His eyes rise to meet mine. "They like ‘em rough."
I swallow the lump in my throat, jeez. I drop my shoulders as I pretend that isn’t the hottest thing I've ever heard. "Well, I guess I'm not used to it." I pull my foot from his clasp. "My foot is fine."
He goes to a cabinet and lifts down a metal box and rats through it and produces a bandage. "I'm going to wrap it."
"Honestly…"
"Just be quiet woman, I'm wrapping it," he interrupts me as he lifts my foot and begins to carefully wrap the bandage around my ankle. I watch him as I feel his hand on my calf muscle. He really seems to know what he's doing. "Are you a medic?"
"I'm a builder."
"Oh," I watch him, "I’ve never known a builder before. Growing up in New York it's not someone that you meet."
He wraps the bandage around and around.
"What kind of men live in New York?"
The player kind.
I shrug. "I don’t know, people who work in offices."
He nods. "Suits."
"Yeah."
He fastens my bandage with a small clip. "Yeah, I got nothing in common with suits."
I watch the huge muscles contract under his t-shirt as he moves. "I can imagine."
He picks me up and places me carefully on the sofa, he puts two cushions under my foot to elevate it. "Are you hungry?"
I bite my lip, I'm starving. It was raining so hard that I couldn’t see a shop along the way, that is if there even was one. "A piece of toast would be great. Do you have toast?" I ask.
His eyes hold mine. "I have toast."
"I can make it," I offer.
"You stay there," he demands as he gets up. "You want a drink?"
I glance at his glass of amber fluid on the coffee table. "What is it?"
"Whiskey."
Hmm, I love whiskey. "Umm."
"I'll take that as a yes," he cuts me off. He fusses around in the kitchen and returns with a glass of whiskey and ice. "This will take the sting out of your foot," he says as he passes it to me. He goes back into the kitchen. I take a sip and wince as I stare at the glass.
Fuck, what is this…200% alcohol? "Thank you," I call.
I look around the room, it's innately masculine. The walls and floors are timber, a huge rug in muted colors is on the floor. The fireplace is big, and a giant metal tub has a heap of huge timber pieces inside of it, waiting for their turn to burn. The dog that lies in front of it hasn’t moved.
Is it dead? The couch is tired and slouchy, but very comfortable, and there are curtains and cushions.
I wouldn’t imagine a man like him to have cushions. I wonder, does he live here alone?
There's a framed photo on the TV cabinet of a family portrait. It looks like a group of people all standing together in front of a waterfall, though it's too far away for me to see who's in the photo.
"Do you live here alone?" I call.
"Aha," he replies as he does whatever he's doing.
I take a sip of my whiskey. Who bought those cushions?
"Do you have a girlfriend?" I call.
He appears and places a tray down on the coffee table in front of me. It has a big bowl of goulash on it with crusty ciabatta toasted bread on the side. It smells delicious. I look up surprised. "You made this?"
"Last night."
"Wow, I'm impressed."
He holds out a spoon. "You didn’t taste it yet."
I smile as I take it from him. "Well, it smells delicious."
He walks back into the kitchen and the rain comes down hard outside. It's absolutely disastrous and sounds so loud on the tin roof.
"Are you not having any?" I call.
"I already ate."
"Oh." I pick up my bowl and take a spoonful. Holy shit…this is good.
I notice he didn’t answer my girlfriend question, he obviously has one.
"So, have you lived here long?" I ask.
"In the area, all my life. I bought this farm about ten years ago."
I smile as I eat. "You should open a restaurant, this is really good."
"You obviously hit your head, too," he answers dryly.
I hear him washing dishes in the kitchen.
"How did you see my car?" I ask.
"I was out feeding Rex and I looked down the hill when I saw your headlights spin and then go off the road."
I get a flashback of how scary those few seconds were.
"I thought someone may have been hurt so I came looking for you," he says.
"Thank you." I take a big mouthful. "I don’t know what I would've done if you hadn’t shown up."
"You would have been okay," he replies. "I get the feeling that you can look after yourself just fine."
I smile proudly. I like that he made that observation.
I can look after myself…. I've had to do it all along.
My douche-bag husband certainly never did it.
I hear the front door open as the rain really hammers down. "Rex," I hear him call. "Get out of the rain," he calls. I smile as I listen. "Dumb dog," he mutters. "Rex," he calls again, as I hear the rain really come down hard again.
He comes in and slams the door closed.
"Kid troubles?" I ask.