Chapter 2
KAEDE
I swear I’m seeing a forest pixie in the flesh. Her screaming is about as colorful as she is, with her spikey pink hair, tanned skin, a colorful tattoo over her shoulder and down her arm. She’s off the bed, pulling the quilt I bought from the swap meet last year to her chest.
“Just get out! I’ll… I’ll call the police.” She grabs her phone from the nightstand and waves it at me like I’ll be petrified at the sight.
If she’s five feet tall, I’d be surprised. And if her round flushed cheeks are any indication of how she looks under that blanket, she’s got curves for days.
I cross my arms. “This ismycabin and I don’t allow anyone in it. Soyouget out.”
“No. Boone and Daisy said that I could stay here.”
I still. “You know Boone and Daisy?”
She stops adjusting the blanket to cover ninety percent of her body.
My imagination can fill in all hundred percent, honey.
“Yes.” Her big blue eyes narrow in on my face and I feel like I’m being judged or assessed in some way. Like I’m not being truthful. And I don’t like it.
I might be out of the military, but I still stand by the warrior ethos and core values that my Marine family and I took. Honor, courage, and commitment. A Marine is a Marine for life.
The woman tips her head and her voice softens. She looks at the bedside photo of me and my military buddies. “It’s you.” She turns back, those pink strands like fireworks from her head. “I remember you. You were at their wedding.”
I flip on the light switch as six months ago rushes back to me. “You were the bridesmaid who stepped on my feet a hundred times during the wedding party dance.”
“I did not.”
The blanket drops, and I try to make no indication of what the vision is actually doing to me. I attempt with ineffectiveness to keep my eyes north of her collar bones, but the enemy is upon me.
And she’s wearing a fucking furry, pink teddy. And there is nothing left to my imagination, except if she’d be mad if I tore it off. Her breasts are pushed up and I feel like they are in my face. The white fuzz that outlines the dress swings side to side as she scurries across the room.
“You take that back. I had sixteen years of dance training.”
She’s only an arm’s length away, and I’m fighting every instinct inside of me to grab her and claim that sassy mouth of hers.
Her finger comes out of nowhere and she pokes me in the chest. “I’m as light as a feather on my feet.”
“Don’t touch me.” I growl the words with a deep rumble.
“What?” She backs up a step, eyes wide.
“Don’t. Touch. Me.” As much as I want to touch her, I don’t like being touched without my permission. There are so many fragments of war that still worm their way into my head at unexpected times.
She backs up another step, and now I’m cursing myself for putting the distance between us.
“But Daisy and Boone said I could borrow Wyatt’s cabin.” She races around the bed and grabs the blanket again.
“Honey, that’s what I’m telling you. This isn’t Wyatt’s cabin.” I lean against the doorframe. “Wyatt Chaston’s place is on the other side of the creek.”
She looks confused for a second, but soon she’s cringing. “Oh! That’s why the GPS wanted me to drive around the cabin.” The woman winces. “And that’s why there was no key under a flowerpot.”
I’m both relieved and a little upset that she’s catching on so quickly.
Some part of me is starting to enjoy having her in my bedroom.
She could be a little Christmas present brought to me by the man in the red suit.
I’ve never received those kinds of presents before, so I won’t bet my Purple Heart on it.
I cross my arms. “Exactly. So, you’ll need to get going now. It’ll probably take you about forty minutes to get to Wyatt’s place. And there’s no driving behind my cabin. Unless you want to end up in the creek. So don’t even try it.”
“Oh, okay.” She goes to the closet. She glances back over her shoulder. “Do you really think I’m going to let you watch me get dressed?”
“It’s my bedroom.”
Her head tilts and she drops the blanket. “Out!”
I cringe at the volume. “Please don’t yell.”
My heart races in my chest, taking me back to days I don’t want to remember. The screams never ended. But out here, in the woods, the silence calms me.
My eyes are clenched closed, but I feel the hand on my chest and as much as I want to tell her not to touch me, I realize I crave the moment. I put my hand on top of hers and when I open my eyes, she’s looking up at me, with those denim blue, sympathetic eyes.
“It’s okay. I won’t yell again.” The whisper brings me back to the present almost instantly and I’m stunned.
Nothing. Nothing has ever done that.
It’s mainly why I live out here and work out of my cabin.
“What’s your name?” I ask, gripping her hand tighter.
“Does it matter? I’m leaving.”
My gut is saying she should go, but my pounding heart says she should stay.
Thankfully my heart speaks louder.