Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Cal
By the time we make it back to the cabin, I’ve navigated three different back roads, each rougher than the last. With Hatch on the main road, I didn’t want to risk running into him.
Not that I can’t handle him.
I can.
I don’t want to. Not yet. After last night, I’ve had enough of that asshole for a while. Besides, I know he’ll want his cash, and considering Luke needs to grab it from the city, that’ll take a few days.
When I face him, I’ll do it on my terms. Not his. Period.
Truthfully, we could’ve been back at the cabin thirty minutes ago, but I take my time on the roads, and it’s not just about avoiding the asshole.
It’s about avoiding whatever the hell happened between the two of us back there in the bushes.
Not that I don’t want to kiss her.
I do. Fuck, of course I do.
Willow is undoubtedly the sexiest woman I have ever laid eyes on, and it’s about way more than her looks, which, on their own, are enough to fill my fantasies.
Mostly, it’s that fiery attitude she has and the spark behind her eyes that constantly makes me wonder what she's thinking and what she’ll do next.
That combination is more than enough to get me into trouble when it comes to her. And I'm not going there. I promised myself years ago I wouldn't go there again, and I won't, especially not when it comes to a woman who needs my help.
Never again.
We're mostly quiet on the drive back. It's not until I pull into the yard and it’s mercifully free of any signs of Hatch and his idiot friends that I finally say, "Whatever you need to be comfortable here for a few days, just let me know."
“I can't stay forever.”
“A few days,” I repeat. “Long enough for Hatch to worry about something else and forget about you.” Not that I think any man could ever forget about Willow.
Not if he was paying attention. She was not the kind of woman you forget about.
“And for me to get the money I owe him together,” I say, refocusing myself on the matter at hand.
“Then he’ll have no reason to bother you anymore. ”
I hoped like hell that was true.
Having Willow in my space for a few days was going to be hard enough. I didn’t need to prolong it.
I get out of the truck and go around to the other door to help her out, but she’s already jumped to the ground. I don’t miss the wince of pain on her face when she takes a step.
I reach for her, but she pulls away, shooting me a look. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not.” I glance down at her boots with a smirk.
I know enough about this woman already to know that she’s about to do her damndest to prove me wrong, so I cross my arms over my chest and watch while she limps her way through a few more steps.
She works hard to swallow back the gasps of discomfort, but I’ve seen enough.
With a sigh and a shake of my head, I close the distance between us, bend, and scoop her up easily in my arms.
As I knew she would, she immediately puts up a fight, but I hold her tight so she can’t hit me and look down at her pretty face and those delicious lips that I very recently had the pleasure of tasting for myself.
“Put me down.”
There’s enough fire in her voice that under any other circumstances, I probably would’ve laughed.
I tighten my hold on her and keep walking toward the cabin while she squirms against my chest and tries her best to bruise my ribs.
Murph, sensing the excitement, hops down from his spot on the porch and jumps and barks around us as I carry her across the yard.
“You done?”
“Put me down,” she says, this time through gritted teeth.
“You’re not walking on those feet, Willow.” I soften my voice enough to let her know I’m not joking. “Not unless you plan on hopping the rest of the way.”
Her lips press together like she’s trying not to react, which tells me I might be getting closer to a real smile.
And now, more than anything, I want to see that smile aimed in my direction.
Which is a problem.
I shouldn’t care whether she smiles at me. And I definitely shouldn’t care that some of the fear is finally easing out of her.
But I do. And that’s going to be trouble if I don’t get a handle on it. Especially after that kiss.
“You’re so annoying,” she mutters under her breath and looks away.
“I’ve heard that before.”
She huffs out a breath and finally stops fighting me as I carry her up the porch steps.
I’m not stupid enough to believe that she suddenly trusts me, but I also don’t think Willow’s a fool.
She might be stubborn, but so am I, and I’m pretty sure she understands that I’m not going to put her down until I can take a proper look at her feet.
The moment her body relaxes against mine, every muscle in mine stiffens in response.
It’s been way too long since I’ve held a woman like this. Or at all.
Definitely long enough to forget how dangerous it can be when it feels this good. She smells like the grass and flowers from the bushes we’d been hiding in. But there’s something else lingering there, too. Something a little spicy. Just like her.
That’s all it takes, and I’m overwhelmed with the urge to discover exactly what it is and how that sweet spiciness would taste on my tongue.
The moment I step into the cabin, it feels smaller than it did this morning.
I lower her carefully onto the couch before she can start fighting me, but the second my hands leave her waist, she scoots backwards, trying to put space between us.
I pretend not to notice. Mostly because if I acknowledge how much it bothers me, I’m going to have to start acknowledging a whole lot of other things when it comes to Willow.
And I am most certainly not going to start doing that.
“Stay there.”
Her brows lift. “Bossy.”
“Stubborn,” I mutter under my breath as I head for the bathroom and the first aid kit.
To my surprise, when I return a few minutes later, she hasn’t moved. Not that she would have gotten very far on those feet.
I crouch in front of her, the first aid kit next to me, and reach for a boot.
“I can do it myself.”
“I know.” I lift my gaze to hers and hold it for a moment, waiting for the challenge I’m sure will come.
It doesn’t, so I start work gently loosening the laces of her boot, careful not to jostle it too much as I slide it off her foot.
The second I do, she hisses in a breath.
“Jesus.” I shake my head and clench my teeth. It’s worse than I thought.
She’s not wearing socks, and the skin all along the back of her heel has been rubbed completely raw. A blister has already broken open from the walking.
And that’s only one foot.
“What?” She tries to pull her leg back, but I hold her foot gently but firmly. “It’s fine.”
“You know it’s not.” I shake my head. “Where are your socks?”
She doesn’t bother answering my question. Instead, she says, “It’s just a little blister.”
“Are you always so determined to pretend that everything’s fine when it’s obviously not?”
She opens her mouth but shuts it, pressing her lips into a tight line before she admits, “It’s usually easier that way.”
The quiet honesty in her voice takes me off guard. For a second, all I can think about is how she’s probably spent way too long taking care of everyone else while no one has bothered to make sure she’s okay.
The thought twists something in my chest. Something I push away before I can let myself think about it too much.
Without another word, I remove her other boot and get to work cleaning her up.
She jerks at the first touch of the antibiotic cream. “Sorry.”
Her eyes snap to mine like she wasn’t expecting that word from me. “It’s okay,” she says quietly, the fight gone from her voice now. “It’s just a little sensitive.”
It’s the first time she’s admitted even the slightest bit of weakness. I don’t draw attention to it, but continue smoothing the cream over the sore spots as gently as I can.
I’m in dangerous territory. What I should do is step away, throw a handful of Band-Aids at her, and let her take care of it herself before I lose my damn mind over a woman I’ve only just met.
Instead, I stay where I am and finish the job, taking my time placing each bandaid as carefully as I can.
Somewhere along the way, I can feel some of the tension slip away, and she relaxes a bit more. “Why are you being so nice to me?” she asks when I finish with the last bandaid.
I rock back on my heels and look up at her, the question taking me off guard. “Because you needed help.”
That’s not the entire truth, but there’s no way I’m going to tell her everything. Especially not when I can’t properly put it into words myself.
“But you don’t even like me.”
“Excuse me?” I can’t even pretend to understand what’s going on with this woman. “What on earth gave you that idea?”
She sits up straight and looks me in the eyes, the fire I’ve gotten used to blazes in her gaze. “I kissed you.”
“You sure did.” I remember every second of that kiss, and at the moment, it’s taking everything in me to keep from reaching her and doing it again.
“You didn’t like it.”
“What the fuck would give you that idea?”
For a flash, her tough facade falters, but she catches herself at the last minute. “If you liked it, you would have—”
I’ve heard enough. Despite everything in me telling me I shouldn’t, I push up from the floor, reach for her face, and pull her toward me until I’m once more devouring that sweet mouth of hers.
Willow
His hand cups my jaw, rough and warm, and then suddenly his mouth comes back to mine.
Nothing about this kiss is careful or hesitant. It hits hard and fast and steals every coherent thought out of my head as his mouth moves against mine with a kind of restrained hunger that makes my whole body ache.
Oh.
This is what it’s supposed to feel like.
When was the last time I kissed someone because I wanted to? When was the last time I kissed a man I was actually attracted to?
Probably never. Even my very first kiss when I was twelve was behind the hardware store, so Billy would give me my book bag back. I couldn’t remember any interaction with a man that wasn’t transactional. Where they didn’t look at me, only to see what they could take.
The thought is too sad to contemplate. Especially with Cal’s mouth on mine.
Because this kiss…this..whatever it is with Cal. It feels different.
Dangerously different.
One of his hands slips into my hair while the other braces against the couch beside my hip, caging me in without making me feel trapped. If anything, it’s the safest I’ve felt in years. Maybe ever.
Which, honestly, might be the scariest part.
A soft sound escapes me before I can stop it—and hearing how much I want this is exactly what drags my brain back into the moment.
Because I don’t understand him.
Does he want this or not? Does he want me?
Or was my first instinct right? That, despite all his objections, he does want something out of me? Men don’t usually do what he’s done—pay off a debt that isn’t his, take me in, patch up my feet like I’m something worth the trouble—without expecting something in return.
And now he’s kissing me like he wants more.
Yet…
None of this makes sense.
A man like Cal could probably have any woman he wanted.
If he ever came off the mountain, that is.
He’s the kind of rugged, broody mountain fantasy women lose their minds over.
With his big shoulders, rough hands, dark eyes, and deep voice that settles low in my stomach every time he says my name.
Never mind, the way he consistently continues to be nice to me.
And he kissed me first.
That’s the only reason I curl my fingers into the collar of his shirt and tug him closer.
He started this, and I’m not ready for it to stop.
Ready or not, I feel the muscles in his shoulders tense as he pulls back. I almost tell him not to stop. I almost try to pull him closer.
But I don’t.
That’s not me.
I don’t chase men. I definitely don’t ache for them. And I sure as hell don’t sit around wishing they’d kiss me again like some pathetic love-sick idiot.
When Cal finally lifts his head enough for me to look at him properly, I’m not prepared for the tension in his face that catches me off guard. As if pulling away from me was enough to cause him physical pain.
His jaw is clenched so tightly, I can see the muscle ticking beneath his beard, and there’s something almost angry about the way he’s breathing. Not with me. But maybe more at himself for losing control in the first place.
That should’ve offend me.
Instead, it makes my chest ache in a way I’ve never felt before. Because no one has ever looked at me that way. Like I matter.
Which is exactly why I need to get a grip on myself. Fast.
I straighten my shoulders and smooth my hair back, giving myself a moment to pull it together while the survival instinct that’s so deeply embedded in me finally clicks back into place.
“What do you want from me then, Cal?” When he stares, I push. “If you’re not going to fuck me, I don’t know what else this is. You helped me out, I owe you. Let’s just get it out of the way.”
His face twists. He stands, walks a few steps away, and when he turns back, he’s furious. “I don’t expect anything from you, Willow. I’m not looking to sleep with you as some fucked up kind of payment.”
His breathing is tight, his hands fisted at his sides like touching me is the one thing he won’t let himself do.
And God help me, that’s the part that gets me.
Not that he doesn’t want me. That he does, and still won’t.
Deep down, that’s what steadies me. Still, there’s a messed-up part of me that can’t help but be frustrated.
I shove it back down where it belongs and lift my chin.
“Fine,” I say. “Then we’re clear.”
But I don’t move. And neither does he.
After a moment, I crack. “Look, I get it that I probably shouldn’t go home for a few days, but I’m not going to just sit around and let you wait on me either.”
His eyes flash, like he wants to argue, but I don’t give him the chance.
“I’ll earn my keep,” I say quickly. “I’ll clean and…cook, or…whatever. I’ll find something to do.”
He stares at me for what feels like forever, but finally nods. “Okay. And you’ll sleep in my room with the door locked,” he says. “I won’t touch you, Willow. You have my word on that.”
He turns on his heel without another look in my direction. The front door slams behind him as he leaves me alone in the cabin, with nothing but his words echoing in my head.
I won’t touch you. You have my word on that.
I should feel relief. Cal is the first man who’s never wanted something from me. He’s the first man who hasn’t tried to take something from me.
That should make me feel safe. And it does.
But at the same time, for reasons that don’t make any sense at all, it only makes me want him more.