Chapter 8
REENA
I sip on my hot coffee, my laptop open on the counter, trying to focus on the work I should be doing. Try, without success. Because I'm watching my phone for an update and scanning the front yard for any sign of the two men who left two and a half hours ago. For a run.
Anxiety makes my stomach clench. Setting down the mug, I reach for my keys, resolved to get in my car and go looking for them.
My phone goes off, the notification loud in the quiet of the empty house, and I snatch at it. I tap the message, my chest going tight at the sight of Porter's name.
When I open the attached photo, though, my worry is forgotten. Porter and my uncle are sitting opposite each other at a booth in the diner, in their sweaty shirts, smiling and eating pancakes together.
Seeing them together, proof that Uncle Cliff is all right, is such a relief, I sink down onto the couch. A laugh bubbles out of me, and a weight slips off. For the first time in too long, I feel like I can take a deep breath.
My gaze lands on the framed photo on the bookshelf.
In it, my mom stands beside Uncle Cliff, laughing at something he said, and I can actually smile at the sight.
There's still grief that she's not here, still sadness that the man in the picture confuses me with his sister half the time, but it's tempered by the knowledge that for now, I don't have to shoulder the duty alone.
Porter's help allowed me to get a good night's sleep because I wasn't worried Cliff would wake up and wander off.
Common sense warns me that I'm trusting this mountain man too quickly.
That I shouldn't forget that this is all part of the fake relationship we agreed to.
But the way he showed up last night, the promise he delivered on this morning, his willingness to play this role so completely has gratitude welling up inside me.
And honestly, that kiss. I can't stop replaying it over and over in my mind.
The feel of his lips against mine, the first brush of teasing contact that quickly transformed into him taking control, devouring my mouth like he never wanted to stop.
Even now, hours later, I can still feel his touch, can still smell the lingering scent of his cologne somehow.
My phone alerts again, pulling me back to reality, and I smile when I see another picture of my uncle pop up. He's grinning at the camera, holding up a giant cinnamon roll with gooey icing dripping from it.
I type out a reply, then set my phone back down. It's time for me to get some work done while I can. Thanks to the mountain man I never expected to need.