Chapter 3
three
Dane
Only her serious expression and the challenge in her eyes keeps my laughter silent. What kind of an idiot would want to dance naked outside, let alone in a December snow storm? Naked as the day they were born naked?
Damn me, that brief glimpse I got earlier is forever engraved in my memory.
I’d given myself a strict lecture while heating the cider.
Told myself to be a gentleman. No matter how I try, I can’t get the image of her body out of my brain.
Pale almost translucent skin. Dark pink nipples tip her full tits.
And she’s a natural blonde with golden curls covering her pussy.
She looks soft and feminine, my sensual fantasies come to life.
I’ve been around enough to know that a beautiful body doesn’t always harbor a sensible, intelligent mind. Keeping my focus on her actions rather than the nipples that make my mouth water is the better idea. If I keep her talking maybe the craziness will push away any growing interest.
“So,” I drawl slowly. “Why would you want to do that?”
She set down her mug and crosses her arms. Fuck, if that doesn’t show off a deep cleavage barely contained by my hoodie. “Do not talk down to me like that. Like you think I’m crazy.”
“I don’t think you’re crazy.” At her doubt filled glare, I amend my statement. “Not as in totally crazy. But do I think it’s crazy to come to the forest during a snowstorm just to dance? Naked or not? Yeah, that’s outrageous.”
Her full lips twitch as though she’s fighting to maintain her stern expression.
Finally she shrugs one shoulder, reaches for her mug, and sighs.
“I have to admit you’re right. Sorry, I’m a little touchy about that crazy lady label.
That’s all I heard from my family and friends when I decided to move to Oregon and open my store. ”
There’s a lot to unpack in that statement. Unsure which direction to go first, I go with what I think is the easiest. “So, you’ve recently moved here?”
“Yeah. From Nebraska.”
“Why?”
She thinks for a long moment, no doubt trying to figure out the best thing to say to avoid sounding like a nut case.
“I’ve always been interested in stones and crystals, how people through time have come to give them purposes and special properties.
A few years ago I decided to share my interest and opened an online shop. ”
“How did that work out for you?” Wincing at the snide tone of my words I wait for her to correct me again.
“Oh, I know most of the time internet shops fail. Just like brick and mortars do. Any business is a risk. I was lucky. Beat most of the pretenders and other legit operators in offering lucky draws and blind boxes.”
I don’t have a clue what she’s talking about.
After a wide yawn, she shivers. This discussion isn’t helping her get warm.
Her cheeks are still pink from the cold, although her lips have lost their faint bluish tint.
It’s past the middle of the night. I fight the yawn threatening to pop my jaw.
We can figure out what to do once the sun is up.
“Enough questions and talking. You need to rest. I’ll help you to the bathroom. ”
“You don’t need to do that.” Obviously wanting to prove the truth of her statement, she uses her hands to lift her leg from the pillow and ease it to the floor.
Her pain filled exclamation is followed by a resigned sigh.
“I guess you do. And I’d like to put on those sweats. I’ll need some help with that, too.”
Giving her a silent nod, I hand her the sweats then slip my arms under her bare legs and lift her up against my chest. Trying to be a gentleman and carry her without touching her soft ass takes total concentration. She feels too good in my arms. Holding her feels too natural, too… right.
Once she’s done she calls me into the bathroom. She’s got the sweats pulled up to her knee on one side, the other leg is bunched at the toes of her injured foot. “I can’t get the leg over the wrapping. The cuff is too tight.”
Inspiration strikes when she yawns again. Digging through one of the vanity drawers I find a small pair of scissors that I intend to use to cut through the cuff.
“Oh no, don’t ruin your clothes for me,” she says while attempting to push my hand away.
“They’re old.”
“Not that old. I’ll be fine tonight.”
What about in the morning? The sooner I know she’s—covered—the easier it will be for me. I don’t voice my thoughts, just crouch and reach for the cuff. “You need these far more than I do, Deca.”
“Aw, that’s the first time you’ve used my name.”
I saw through the fleece with the dull scissors then look at her and arch my eyebrow. “Ready? I’ll help you stand while you pull these up.”
“Okay. Thank you for everything you’ve done, Dane. I honestly don’t know what would have happened to me if you and your cabin hadn’t been here.”
I have a fairly good idea. I should probably tell her, the possibility of actually freezing to death or coming across a wild animal might scare her enough she doesn’t do something this foolish again.
And not every rescuer would have the best interests of a naked goddess in mind. “I’m glad you found me.”
“Found you? Oh, yes, I’m glad, too. And I’m ready.”
Ready? Shit, I can’t focus when I’m around her, at least not on anything other than her.
She reaches for the waist of the sweats. “I think if you can hold me steady, I’ll be able to pull these up.”
I nod and close my eyes as my hands settle at her waist. The process goes smoothly and within a couple minutes I’m tucking her in my bed. “I won’t be far in case you need anything.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” she says as she yawns. “Thank you.”
Her eyes close and her breathing deepens. Wish I could fall asleep so quickly. I watch her for far too long before gathering the dirty mugs and plates and heading toward the kitchen.
I check on her after I’ve washed the dishes. Telling myself she’s fine, that she’ll call for me if she needs anything, I return to the office.
An hour later I’ve done nothing but stare out the window, wondering about my surprise guest. I need to sleep.
The futon will do for me tonight. Except her cloak is there, the melting ice has made the cushion wet.
Planning to flip it, I lift the cushion and discover the water has seeped through to the other side.
Just as well, sleeping on the floor is more comfortable than that poorly cushioned fake bed. To prevent more damage I take Deca’s cloak to hang in the guest bathroom to dry. She’ll need it when she leaves.
A sharp denial fills me. What the hell? This is my retreat. Where I come to think, plan, to be alone. I seldom invite anyone to join me and when I have, I’m anxious and uncomfortable until they leave. Here is where I treasure solitude. I don’t want or need anyone here.
Deca’s presence feels different. I realize I’ve been waiting for the anxiety to set in, the need to see her gone. Waiting for something that hasn’t happened. In fact, the idea of her leaving creates a heavy weight in my chest, like lead forming around my heart.
As an experiment I think about her living here, belonging here with me. Warmth flows through my body. Wanting and desire.
No. That’s a fantasy I refuse to entertain.
Until I enter the bedroom to check on her. She’s turned slightly on to one side facing the door, her foot still elevated under the covers on the extra pillows. She appears to be deeply asleep. A large expanse of the king sized bed stretches behind her.
Why shouldn’t I sleep in my own bed? She’s under the comforter, I’ll grab a blanket and sleep on top of the covers. That way I’ll be close in case she needs anything. Rationalization like this is dangerous. Right now I don’t care.
Grabbing flannel sleep pants and a tee, I change in the master bath then go for the last of my spare blankets.
The hallway floor is damn cold. I make a mental note to make sure to find thick socks for Deca in the morning.
I only contemplate my decision another few seconds before carefully lowering myself onto the bed and wrapping the blanket around me.
Knowing I should sleep with my back to her, I release all the ‘shoulds’ in my brain and roll to my side.
Starlight sparkles through the window onto her golden hair.
I need to touch it, feel the silken strands.
Instead, I curl my hand under the pillow and close my eyes, hoping by morning these uncomfortable feelings will either disappear or at least be under control.
I’m just not sure how much control I’ll be able to maintain around this woman.
I’m not sure I want to.