Chapter 12
SEVEN
I hear Binx squeal from the bedroom, where I’m scoping out the clothes Sprout packed for me, and spin toward the door. My aching muscles protest the swift movement, but I push through the pain and stiffness.
We may have food and clothing, but we don’t have any cell service out here or any other way to call for help. If there’s an emergency, things could go very bad, very quickly. It’s something I’m going to be sure to impress upon Sprout as soon as we’re home.
You can’t just kidnap people and leave them stranded in the middle of nowhere without a way to reach medical attention. My mother and Binx’s sister should have known better, and I intend to make sure my daughter doesn’t grow up to make reckless decisions like this as a grown-up.
I push through the back door and charge out onto the deck.
It takes a beat for my eyes to adjust to the fading light outside, but after a moment, I spot Binx in the shadows beneath the trees and exhale a relieved breath.
“Don’t worry, he’s harmless,” I say, dragging a hand through my hair as I slow my pace. “His name’s Tater Tot. Just tell him to sit.”
“He is sitting,” Binx says, her voice strained. “On my chest, and his teeth are fucking enormous. He showed them to me a second ago.”
“Aw, he was just smiling at you, no reason to be afraid,” I say, chuckling when Tater Tot turns to grin at me, flashing his giant bottom teeth. “Isn’t that right, you little charmer? I didn’t know if I’d see you again before hibernation time. You’re looking good, man. Nice and husky for the winter.”
“Please, get him off of me?” Binx pleads as I stop a few feet away, gazing down at her with an amused grin. “I’m not a fan of rodents. Even really cute rodents that look like fur potatoes.”
“Groundhogs are sweet, actually, especially this one,” I say as I crouch down and cluck my tongue for Tater Tot. “I’ve known this guy since he was a baby last spring. I met him when we were first looking at the property. He’s crazy smart. Understands his name, sit, and the names of all his favorite treats. Come here, Tater Tot. Come on, buddy. I’ll grab you an apple slice from inside.”
At the word “apple slice” Tater Tot scrambles off Binx’s chest and trots over. He stops about a foot away from me, his entire pudgy bottom trembling with excitement. I don’t hold a hand out to touch him, though. Sprout desperately wanted to turn Tater Tot into another family pet, but the three chickens we have already are more than enough for me.
Tater Tot is better off in the wild, without the smell of human beings on him. It’s best if he maintains a little fear of getting too close to us.
Though he was just sitting on Binx’s chest…
I glance her way as she sits up, brushing furiously at the front of her fleece. “He’s never climbed on top of anyone before. He usually keeps his distance.”
“Really? He jumped at me like the killer bunny from that Monty Python movie.” She stands, inching farther away from the trembling groundhog. “And when I tripped and fell, he was on me before I could move.”
I frown. “Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself when you fell?”
She shakes her head. “No, just my pride. Logically, I know rodents can be sweet furry friends, but there’s a reason I refuse to pet-sit Uncle Maynard’s guinea pigs. I just can’t with vermin. Even pet vermin.” She shudders and shakes her hands at her sides. “I feel like I’ve been touched by the Black Death. It was spread by rats, you know.”
“It was spread by fleas on rats,” I correct as I back toward the cabin.
“Great, now I can worry about fleas,” she mutters, brushing harder at her shirt.
“Don’t stress,” I say. “You can have the first bath and get out of your flea clothes. You have a whole drawer full of things in the bedroom. Why don’t you go pick something out to wear, and I’ll start the fire after I get Tater Tot his treat.”
Tater Tot gambols along beside me, making happy grunting sounds.
“Okay,” Binx says. “If you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. You can even circle around and head in the front door, if you want. The better to avoid another interaction with the feral fur potato.”
Her lips quirk. “Sounds good.”
T wenty minutes later, I’ve given Tater Tot his treat and sent him on his way back into the darkening forest. I also have five large pots of water about to bubble on the woodstove in the living room. I accompany Binx outside to fill the tub about a third of the way with cold water from the hose, and light the tiki torches I fished out of storage in the shed.
Then, we pull deck chairs to the edge of the flickering torchlight. I dump the first pots of boiling water into the tub and put another round on the stove before settling into the chair beside her to watch the stars come out.
“I feel bad about stealing your bath,” she says as I hand her a glass of wine.
“You didn’t steal it. I’ll just take second shift.”
“But it will take forever to warm up more water,” she says. “The tub is enormous. There’s plenty of room for both of us. We could wear our swimsuits and just…wash around them discreetly. It would be a totally kosher, time-and-effort saving thing for two friends to do.”
I chew the inside of my cheek for a beat. I know better, but I’m bone weary and not looking forward to repeating this boiling water dance a second time or bathing in cold, leftover water.
“I’d stay on my side,” she adds, lifting her right hand into the air. “I promise. I won’t let so much as a pinkie toe slip over into your half of the water.”
“I’m not worried about your pinkie toe,” I say, hating that things are so awkward between us. That kiss ruined everything. I’d like to say that, if given the chance, I would turn back time and keep my lips to myself. But the truth is I’ll be playing that kiss on repeat in my head for a long time.
A long, long time…
“Well, I’m worried about yours,” she says, taking a delicate sip of her wine. “Your feet are disgusting.”
I huff out a soft laugh. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. I mean, I know you can’t help it—giant, manly men have giant, hairy man feet—but if you were a woman, you’d never get away with having something that gross on your body. Society would have made you wax them and bleach them and get big toe reduction surgery or something.”
I smile. “You’re probably right. Did I tell you Sprout asked me about shaving her legs last week?”
“What?” Binx frowns. “She’s only eight.”
“I know, but she inherited my hairy legs and the girls in gym class were making fun of her for it, calling her Sasquatch and shit. I told her she’s too young to shave, but I caught her trying to smuggle my razor into her bathroom the next day. If I don’t teach her how to use it, I’m afraid she’s going to massacre herself.” I sigh. “I really don’t like being cut off from her. What if something happens and she needs to get in touch?”
Binx hums sympathetically. “Yeah, I get it. I don’t like it, either, but she’ll be fine. She has Bettie and your brothers to look after her if anything happens. And I can show her how to shave when we get back, if you want. There’s definitely a trick to getting around all the bony parts without leaving a trail of destruction behind.”
“Yeah, that would be nice, thanks,” I say, even as the voice of reason insists that I should start distancing myself from Binx. She’s too tempting for this “just friends” farce we’ve been playing at to hold much longer.
And I’m too lonely.
I didn’t realize how lonely I was until she came into our lives and sending her home at the end of the night started to feel like the worst part of my day. It reminded me of the moment when visiting hours were over at the prison on Sundays, and the people I loved went away for another week, leaving me alone with the consequences of my piss poor decisions.
But I’m too tired to start the pulling away process right now, and I’m sure Sprout would much rather learn to shave from Binx than her grandmother. Mom is a stress case when it comes to her granddaughter’s well-being and will appreciate being spared the task of crouching by a bathtub while Sprout tests out a razor for the first time.
“Should I go change into my suit, then?” Binx asks, arching a brow.
“Yeah, sure,” I say. “I think we’re almost good with hot water. We don’t want it too hot, or it will hurt your wounds.”
She sighs. “Yeah, I thought about that. A shame, though, because a scalding hot bath sounds amazing. I can feel my muscle knots giving birth to new baby knots as we sit here, and I didn’t carry two giant packs all day. If you want, I could get out first and then warm up more water for you to have a longer, hotter soak, after I’m done washing up.”
“Don’t worry about it. A warm bath is fine,” I say. “Then, I’ll probably turn in early. I found the old sheets that were on the bed before in the hamper in the closet. I’ll use those to make up a bed on the couch and you can have the bedroom.”
Her smile falters for half a second, but it’s back in place again as she stands. “Okay, but I’m fine with taking the couch if you’d rather have the mattress. I can sleep anywhere, especially when I’m this exhausted.”
She disappears inside without waiting for an answer.
I finish my glass of wine and check on the water, finding all but the largest pot beginning to bubble. I dump the four boiling containers and by the time I’m done, the biggest is ready to go, too. All in all, it takes about ten minutes to get it all sorted. By the time I’m done, the tub is over half full and steaming in the cool evening, but Binx still isn’t back from changing.
I debate going to check on her, but she’s good about calling for help when she needs it—or squealing if she’s being attacked by overly-friendly groundhogs—so I grab my suit from my pack in the living room. I wouldn’t normally have a suit with me for a hiking trip in the fall, but there was supposed to be a hot spring near our camping spot on the last night of the climbing trip.
If any of that itinerary was real…
Wondering how far my daughter went to trick me into this, and if the owner of the rock-climbing company has any idea her business was used as bait for a Parent Trap scheme, I pop into the bathroom and change. By the time I step out, wrapped in one of the large beach towels from this summer, when Sprout would entertain herself running through the sprinklers while I worked, I head outside.
I arrive on the deck in time to see Binx drop her own towel onto the deck chair she’s pulled up beside the tub, revealing lacy black panties that stop me dead in my tracks. The lingerie rides high on her ass, covering only half of each cheek, the partial glimpse of skin somehow even sexier than if she were wearing a thong.
My gaze tracks down her toned, curvy legs and back up again. Then, she turns as she steps into the water, and I forget how to breathe.
Or maybe I gasp, I’m not sure.
I do something that attracts her attention because she looks up. Our eyes lock and hold in a moment of eye contact that would qualify as cheating if either of us were in a relationship.
But we’re not, and fuck, she’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in that lacy bra and panties. I’m pretty sure I can see the dusky outline of her nipples through the lace, but I refuse to look.
I won’t look.
I won’t…
But I do, of course, I do. My weakness around this woman has already been proven several times today.
When I look back up to her face, her lips are curved in a crooked smile. “Sorry, looks like I forgot my swimsuit.”
I try to swallow, but fail, and end up licking my lips instead. “It happens,” I say, my voice rough.
“It does,” she says, nodding her head. “Come get in. The water’s perfect.”
I start to drop my towel, but think better of it, in case the semi-hard-on I’m currently sporting becomes something more serious when I get closer to the siren easing into my bathtub. Instead, I keep it wrapped around my waist until I’m next to the water, then quickly chuck it and ease inside, keeping my gaze locked on the soap sitting in the dish attached to the side.
It’s pale blue and smells incredible. It definitely isn’t anything I purchased for the house. Before I can ask where it came from, Binx offers, “The soap was at the bottom of the basket. Guess our meddling family thought we might want to smell good for each other.”
“You always smell good,” I say, the words out before I can stop them.
“Liar,” she whispers. “I smelled like a wet dog most of today.”
“You smelled fine,” I say. “You smelled…like you.”
“And you smelled like you,” she says, shifting onto her knees, bringing her now wet breasts bobbing above the surface. The lace is now completely see-through, and I’m fully erect beneath the water.
I can’t stay here, or my hands will be on her, and I can’t make a run for the door without her knowing exactly why I’m bolting. Still, I’m about to do it—let her see what a weak-willed bastard I am—when she shifts forward, her hands braced on either side of the tub beside me, bringing her lips inches from mine.
“And the smell of you is enough to make me wet,” she whispers, making my jaw clench and my entire body burn. I want to touch her so badly it’s physically painful, but I’m still determined to get out of this tub, when she adds, “That’s why being friends isn’t going to work anymore. I realized that as I was changing clothes and just seeing your boxer briefs sitting in a drawer made me want to touch myself.”
“Binx,” I rasp, her name a prayer for her to have mercy on me.
“I know you are firmly against being more than friends,” she continues, “and I respect that. I don’t agree with you, but…it’s obvious you’re not going to change your mind. So, it seems like our only choice is to go our separate ways.”
I don’t want to go our separate ways. I want to drag her to my bedroom and keep her there for the next thirty years, but I can’t. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us.
So, even though the words feel like they’re ripping my heart out of my chest, I say, “You’re probably right.”
Sadness flashes across her pretty face, but it’s gone by the time she nods and says, “I thought you’d agree. Which means there’s only one thing left to decide.” She shifts even closer, until her breasts are inches from my chest, her knees are between my thighs, and I’m so hard it feels like my balls might explode. “Do we spend the next two days avoiding each other as best we can while sharing a tiny cabin?” She leans in, brushing her nose against mine, her breath warm on my lips. “Or do we say goodbye with orgasms? I don’t know about you, but I vote?—”
Before she can finish the sentence, my fingers are around her neck, dragging her mouth against mine for a brutal kiss.