CHAPTER SIX #2
My brows furrowed and the woman scanning his stuff watched us with intrigue through her lashes. “No. This is just a lot of food for what will hopefully be no longer than twenty-four hours.”
“A lot of food for one person, maybe. But not for two. Unless you’re one of those women that eats like a bird?”
“Now who’s shaming?” I quipped. But that only made him smile. The cashier gave him his total, and he handed over his credit card.
“You didn’t have to buy my salad,” I said sheepishly when it was my turn to pay.
“I didn’t see you objecting.” Again, he was still smiling, and that only made me smile—and roll my eyes.
Once I paid, we headed out of the automatic doors, but paused before stepping out into the rain. It was like Mother Nature turned the faucet on high and was currently trying to rid humans of their first layer of skin. I’d never seen rain this hard before.
“Keys,” Jagger said, holding out his hand and dropping the reusable fabric shopping bag I had loaned him from my car, full of his stuff at my feet.
On autopilot, I handed him the keys, then watched him jog into the parking lot, doing his best to dodge the raindrops.
A moment later, my car pulled up right in front of the store with Jagger behind the wheel.
He climbed out and didn’t let me grab the bags before he already had them in his hands and was opening the hatch in the back. I raced to the passenger side and opened the door, raindrops dripping off my nose even from that small little dash from in front of the grocery store doors.
“Anywhere else you’d like to go?” he asked, cranking the defrost to the highest setting.
I shook my head. “Is there anywhere else to go?”
“Wayman Island has lots of fun little beaches and hikes and stuff, but none that we’d enjoy visiting right now.”
“Then back to Lenora’s, I suppose.”
All he did was nod and take us out of the parking lot. Jagger was a good driver. He was cautious, but didn’t drive like an old person—under the speed limit. He took care not to speed or do anything too risky, probably habit from having all his nieces and nephews in the vehicle with him.
We were back at the B&B in no time, and once again, he dropped me off right at the front steps so I didn’t have to get too wet in the parking lot. He even helped unload the groceries before parking the car next to his cube truck.
I was more confused than ever about Jagger McEvoy as we climbed the stairs up to our room, our jackets dripping on the carpet.
I used my key, since he had both grocery bags, and let us into the space.
I still couldn’t understand how Lenora thought this should be labeled as the honeymoon suite.
Harry Potter had more spacious accommodations under the Dursley’s stairs.
Then again, I wasn’t sure what the other rooms were like, so maybe this one was palatial in comparison.
Either way, with Jagger in the room, it felt positively microscopic. He had such an enormous presence, not to mention breadth, to him.
After he ditched his Blundstones and jacket, he took the shopping bag over to the fridge and unloaded. I took a moment to reluctantly appreciate the muscular expanse of his back before he stood up and made his way over to the bed where I was busy opening my package of socks.
“I might have another shower,” he said, dumping the rest of his stuff onto the bed as well. “Unless you want to have one first?”
I shook my head. “Go ahead. I need to call and check in on Marco and my cousins.”
Nodding, he grabbed the same towel he used the night before from where it hung on a hook behind the door, and stepped into the bathroom, shutting the door.
I sat on the bed for a very long time, staring at the closed bathroom door.
Almost like I might spontaneously develop x-ray vision and be able to Superman myself a sneak peek at Jagger without any pants on.
Get it together, Aaronson !
I ground the heels of my palms into my eyes and growled before flopping back on the bed and pulling my phone out of my pajama pants pocket. I dialed Gabrielle, since Marco was staying with her.
“He’s still alive,” my cousin said after the second ring. “Still alive and kicking his cousins’ butts at Monopoly.”
Grinning, I exhaled the longest sigh of the day so far. Even though I knew my child was totally safe with my cousins on the property, I still didn’t like not being there with him myself though.
Just because we ran away from our former life didn’t mean we were totally safe from it.
We all knew it. Aunt Dolores said as much in her will when she bequeathed the vineyard to us.
That despite how safe the property was, we would never be free of that life.
She was adamant that we needed to set up escape plans and teach them to the children.
So we did. We had all kinds of safety measures in place in case one day someone from our past came knocking, wanting something none of us were interested in parting with—like our children, our freedom, or our souls.
“What’s the weather like over there?” I asked, doing my best to ignore the dull thump of a headache behind my right eye.
“Probably the same as where you are. Wind, rain, and flickering lights. We’ve got generators so we’re fine.”
Even if the vineyard didn’t have generators, my cousin would make sure nobody went cold or hungry.
Gabrielle was the ultimate survivor. She updated our earthquake survival kit yearly and made sure we all had one in our vehicles as well.
If there was a natural disaster or a zombie apocalypse, Gabrielle Campbell was who we all wanted to become queen of the survivors.
Whether it be a tsunami a hangnail, or anything in between, she was ready.
“How are you faring with the youngest, hottest McEvoy?” she asked, a definite chuckle in her tone. Then she brought her voice down. “Do you need instructions on how to hide a body? Because I know several ways. What you’re going to want to do is find the biggest area rug—”
“He’s still alive. And, no. Also, how do you know this—never mind.
I don’t want to know.” I shook my head and smiled at my cousin revealing yet another one of her many talents.
I wasn’t aware of her being a fan of true crime podcasts.
Maybe my ignorance was better. Less likely to be held in contempt or charged with obstruction or whatever.
“He’s actually being pretty tolerable. We’ve declared a truce of sorts.
Not sure if it’ll carry over to San Camanez, but for now, it’s in place.
We just got back from the grocery store.
We’d both run out of socks, and since this place only serves breakfast, we needed to go grab some food. ”
“Look at you saying ‘we’ like it’s no big deal.”
I scoffed and rolled my eyes, which actually felt nice against the part of my brain that had the headache. I did a more exaggerated eye roll this time, but closed my lids before I did it.
“Where is he now?” she asked.
“In the shower. I’ll hop in after to warm up. The B&B is nice, it’s just a little drafty. And this honeymoon suite is insanely small.”
“Wait, you’re in the honeymoon suite? Seriously?”
“Why the fuck would I joke about that? I mean, it is a joke, but it’s not funny. The space is the size of Marco’s bedroom, and the owner said it was a queen bed when it absolutely is not. Jagger’s feet stuck out over the bottom.”
Great, now I was thinking about his feet again. Motherfucker.
“Mm-hmm …”
“Is my kid busy kicking your kid’s ass at a board game, or can I talk to him?”
“He and Damon just headed over to Austin’s to go play Nintendo. Do you want me to call him back?”
“No, don’t bug him. I’ll try again, closer to bedtime. Hopefully, I catch him then.” Emotion snagged in the back of my throat like a rolled-up hedgehog, and I struggled to swallow. “Just tell him I miss him.”
“He knows you do, but I’ll do it anyway.”
The lights flickered at the same time a big, howling gust swept across the window, rattling the old panes. “Did the lights flicker there too?” I asked.
“No, did they where you are?”
“Yeah. Shit. I better charge my phone.”
“Keep us posted. The wind is supposed to die down by tomorrow. I’ve been chatting with the harbormaster, and he seems to think he’ll be able to let the water taxis shuttle people home tomorrow. Not sure what time though.”
With the backs of my eyes burning, I could only nod. Little good that did me though, since Gabrielle couldn’t see me.
“Try not to commit murder, and hopefully we’ll see you in the next twenty-four hours or so.”
“Thanks,” I croaked.
Then we disconnected the call just as the bathroom door opened, and exactly like last night, the bearded snack that was also my adversary, stepped out of the steamed-up room with the towel slung even lower on his hips than before.
And I only know this because last night I didn’t get to see those V-lines at his hipbones disappearing beneath the terrycloth.
Today, they were most definitely out to play.
I swallowed and did a shit job of not following him with my eyes as he made his way across the room to the bed where his packs of boxers, socks, and the T-shirt he bought were in a heap.
He tugged them all on, while still in his towel, which he only removed once he had on the boxer briefs—the motherfucking painted-on-him-they-were-so-tight boxer briefs—then he grabbed the dark-gray sweatpants from earlier and tugged those on too.
“You gonna have a shower too?” he asked, grabbing the towel to give his hair a quick scrub to dry it.
“I, uh …”
Reaching into his duffel bag, he pulled out a little tub of something, opened it, then stepped to the vanity mirror where he proceeded to apply what must have been beard balm to his luscious facial hair.
Our eyes locked, his in the mirror back at me, and he gave me a curious look. “Shower?”
“Right!” I yelled, cringing at my unnecessary volume. An involuntary shiver tore through me and I beelined it for the bathroom, slamming the door and plastering my back to it where I asked myself in a breathless whisper, “What the hell have I done?”