Chapter 8
Wyatt
The inky darkness of the stormy morning cloaked the cabin, shrouding any real sense of time. I’d been up for hours, preoccupied by the presence of my intriguing guest. The sheer discomfort of my couch didn’t help things.
I stretched, rolling my left shoulder to try to work through the kink in the muscle. Michael Keaton nuzzled my leg, whining softly. For all the upheaval of the last couple of days, he was still as in tune with me as ever.
“It’s okay, buddy,” I whispered, petting his head. “Nothing a good stretch won’t fix.”
He licked my hand, then trotted off, tail wagging, to Taylor’s bedside. Her silhouette lay peacefully curled up in my thick blankets, a sight that captivated me in more ways than one. I found myself following him, as though I had no control over the pull the strange woman had on me.
“She’s okay too,” I told him. “Or at least, she will be. You did good, boy. A sucky hunter, but pretty adept at search and rescue.”
It was meant to be a joke just for myself, the way they usually are. But Michael Keaton yapped loudly by my side, making me jump. I quickly knelt down beside him, placing my finger against his mouth.
“Shhhh, boy. We don’t want to wake her.” He licked my finger and jumped up with his paws on my shoulders. Play time.
I laughed softly, falling back onto my ass, the bulk of him overwhelming me. “Not right now,” I said between muted giggles. “We have work to do.”
The word ‘work’ got his attention, and Michael Keaton paused his assault to snort at me. It was like he was asking me what we’d be up to. I patted his side and ruffled his fur affectionately, hoping the ruckus next to Taylor hadn’t woken her.
“Come on, let’s go over there,” I said, getting to my feet with some difficulty. The nights sleeping on the couch were taking their toll and I felt as stiff as a tree stump.
She was still sleeping soundly, to my relief, and Michael Keaton and I made our way to the back wall of the cabin where my in-progress DIY project was waiting.
Being alone up here for so long meant that I found various ways to keep busy.
This time it was a ceiling-to-floor bookshelf.
A labor of love, but also a distraction to fill the time.
Now, it would help keep my mind from wandering to the beautiful woman in my bed.
A woman who’d managed to ignite sensations in my body that I thought were long out of service.
I moved the ladder into position, a ray of my lantern’s light illuminating the wooden boards and tools scattered all around.
Michael Keaton padded over to inspect, his tail wagging with enthusiasm.
He loved our little projects, proving himself to be the best Good Boy a mountain girl could ask for, fetching me things as I needed them.
We’d spent weeks preparing everything—taking down the trees, fashioning the planks—and now the time had come to put it all together.
“You ready to get this thing going, boy?” I scratched behind his ears as he gave an approving woof in response. But true to his nature, he remembered me hushing him before and made sure to make it a whisper woof.
The rhythmic pattering of rain against the windows served as a steady backdrop to our morning as we jumped into it.
With my hands and mind occupied, I tried to push aside the thoughts that had been consuming me since Taylor’s arrival.
But every time my gaze drifted back to her, sleeping so peacefully, it was impossible not to be captivated by the woman who’d stumbled into my isolated world.
Impossible to not think what would happen if I abandoned my bookshelf and went to crawl into bed with her. To snuggle up, warm and toasty, with the mad storm raging just outside.
A slobbering tongue grazed my cheek, bringing me back to the matter at hand. The matter that was supposed to be decidedly not about Taylor.
“Okay, okay, I’m here,” I said, giving Michael Keaton a gentle pat on his back.
The rustic scent of wood filled my senses as I measured the lengths carefully, ensuring each piece was just right. It was reclaimed pine, the very same I’d cut from the trees surrounding the cabin. A hard but satisfying process that had taken up many solitary hours.
The planks had a warm, honeyed hue, a testament to their age and history. Each one had been meticulously shaped and smoothed, ready to become the central eye-catching piece of my home. Or at least, that was the idea.
My hands deftly moved over the pieces, content in the familiar taking over. I always found solace in the simplicity of crafting something with my own hands. Made me feel less alone, and the cabin less empty.
I glanced over my shoulder, my eyes easily finding Taylor’s form in the partial darkness. For the first time in years, I wasn’t really alone here. I didn’t need to pretend away the solitude.
Turning back to getting the planks in the right order, my thoughts stayed with Taylor. The attraction I felt was undeniable, but it came with a big, red, flashing warning sign. Blaring, even. It was a sign that flashed and also rang a deafening alarm.
I was weary.
I’d been down that road before, my heart broken, and I wasn’t sure I could bear it again. Because it was inevitable. That I knew. If Taylor found out about me, she’d go running back up the hill that brought her here.
“Need some help?”
I nearly jumped out of my skin, whirling around to find Taylor standing there. Wearing my Batman t-shirt (which she’d claimed as her pajamas), and nothing else. The tape measure in my hand, pulled to forty inches, reeled back in with a loud snap that pinched my finger.
“Shit, are you okay?”
I sucked the inflamed skin urgently to try to deaden the sting, while mumbling, “I’m fine.”
I’d been so lost in thought that I hadn’t heard her sneak up on me. Michael Keaton barked excitedly, running over to her and jumping up her leg for a good morning head scratch. The force of it sent her staggering back, and I reached out to grab her arm just in time.
“You shouldn’t be out of bed,” I told her, guiding her to the work bench just over to the left of the DIY chaos. “What are you doing up?”
Taylor rolled her eyes with a sigh. “I can’t lie down anymore. Besides, you two seem like you’re about to have some fun, and I want in.”
The area where I worked was a controlled mess of tools and planks. The small bench was covered in sawdust and bore an array of hand tools. Hammers, chisels, and a power drill poked into her thigh, with several other things strewn at her feet.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” I offered, once she was settled. I noticed the way she gently massaged her thigh just above her bandage and knew she’d pulled something.
But her response was swift, and her tone light when she said, “Oh, you didn’t. My body’s conditioned to no more than six hours of sleep a night.”
“Work?” I knew it would be, but asked anyway.
Taylor nodded. “And six is apparently a healthy amount, so there you have it. Before you try to get at me about being a workaholic, or whatever.”
I stood back, hand on my hip, as I considered her with a knowing smile. “You were out hiking in the middle of a deadly storm. For work.”
Taylor laughed, a melodic sound that danced through the air. It was new to my space, and I thought that it was a sound I could get used to hearing in here.
“I came over here to offer you some help,” she said then. “If you keep calling me out on my bullshit, I might have to rescind that offer.”
“Help?” I looked at her bandaged thigh with raised eyebrows. “Forgive my hesitation, but you’re from the city. What help were you planning on offering?”
“Don’t underestimate us city girls,” she said, the ghost of her laugh still hanging there. “We can handle a hammer.”
I nodded, accepting the challenge. “All right then, let’s see how you do. You can pass me the tools I need from right here. I don’t want you on your feet, putting extra strain on that leg.”
I expected her to argue, but Taylor was so happy to be included she promptly complied with a military salute.
“At your service,” she said with a smile that just about turned my knees to jelly.
Her unmoving gaze burned into me as I ascended the ladder to get started with the top support beam. It was a bit unsettling, the way she watched me. The intensity of her gaze was hard to ignore, and it sent shivers down my spine.
Why was my mouth suddenly dry? And why were my hands shaking?
I took a breath and pulled a pencil from behind my ear to mark off the spots I’d need to drill into. Back to the task. Focus on the task.
“Could you please pass me the spirit level?” I called over my shoulder.
Michael Keaton, used to these commands coming at him, bounded around beneath me. This was the part where I usually guided him through a series of instructions until he finally found what I wanted him to find. But instead, I was distracted by Taylor.
The sound of rattling tools caught my attention as she went searching through everything.
She picked up every random item, inspected it thoughtfully, then placed it back down to do it all again with another one.
The expression on her face was a mixture of determination and mild embarrassment, which my brain found utterly adorable.
“Having trouble finding it?” I asked with an amused smile.
“Spirit level,” Taylor muttered to herself, then looked up at me. “Is that like a spirit stick, or…?”
I snorted laughter, and the ladder shook precariously under my weight. Michael Keaton dashed over to the foot of it, watching me closely.
“I’m okay, buddy,” I assured him, gathering my composure. “Spirit stick? Like they have at cheer camp?”
Taylor narrowed her eyes, pursing her lips tightly. “It was a simple question, Wyatt. Do you want my help or not?”
“Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” I held up a hand in surrender. “It’s a long… uh… a long, metal, rectangular thing. And there’s a luminous bubble of liquid in it.”
Taylor looked up at me, frowning hard. “You said you’d stop. A luminous bubble? Really? I may not know my way around a toolbox, but I wasn’t born yesterday.”
Michael Keaton whined next to the ladder, sniffing around the floor with urgency. He knew exactly what he was looking for, and I had to use all my restraint to keep from laughing again.
“He’s pawing at it,” I told her. “Just grab the thing by his foot and hand it to me.”
Taylor looked down and bit her lips, realizing that I hadn’t been poking fun at her after all. She got up slowly and went to grab the spirit level.
“Sorry,” she murmured, handing it to me. “But you can’t blame me for thinking that description was a bunch of bull.”
“Well…”
“Oh, stop it,” she huffed, limping carefully back to the bench.
“Are you okay?” I asked, noticing the strained look on her face. She was rubbing at her thigh again.
Taylor waved me off. “Just a little stiff, that’s all. Nothing a little physio won’t help later.”
Our eyes met, my spirit level poised in midair while the shock of her intense gaze barreled through me. She was a force to be reckoned with, all right, and I had absolutely no defensive strategy to counter it.
“So, what’s that do?” she asked, genuinely curious.
It brought my attention back to what I was doing, and I turned to face the wall.
It was a tricky thing, keeping the beam in position with one hand, while using the level with the other. The ladder shook dangerously under my shifting weight.
“It’s so I can make sure everything’s straight,” I replied, holding up the level to the support beam. “I like straight lines.”
I heard Taylor chuckle behind me. “That’s about all the straight I can handle.”
It was cheeky, and it was meant to push my buttons. I bit back a smile and continued what I was doing, determined not to give her the satisfaction of a reaction. But it gave me an idea. A way to make this more fun, not only for her…
“What do you say we put your city girl knowledge to the test?” I asked, glancing at her from over my shoulder.
“Is that a country girl challenge?” The playfulness was clear in her voice. “What do I get if I win?”
I feigned deep thought, tapping my chin with the end of the level. “Well, that’s a big ‘if’, but if you win, you’ll get your honorary country girl stripes.”
Taylor scoffed loudly. “Come on, Wyatt. You’re going to have to make it worth my while.”
Michael Keaton, sensing the friendly banter, barked excitedly and leapt around to join in. His antics knocked the ladder and sent me rocking dangerously. My fingers dug into the narrow spaces of the cabin wall for dear life.
“Michael Keaton! Down, boy!”
He yapped once, then went to sit innocently at Taylor’s feet, panting happily. She laughed at our comical struggle, shaking her head slowly.
As I grappled to regain my balance and my dignity, I was markedly aware of the warmth filling me. It had nothing to do with the cozy fire, but more the laughter filling the cabin for the first time in forever.
I leaned down, a playful glint in my eyes. “All right, big city, here’s your first challenge…”
“Uh uh.” Taylor shook her head. “First, the stakes. You haven’t given me a good enough prize.”
“Fine.” I sighed, looking around the cabin as I thought about what would entice her. “How about, if you win, you get breakfast in bed?”
One eyebrow quirked up instantly as she looked me over. “You know, for someone so hellbent on keeping things platonic, you sure want to get me in bed a lot.”
I lost my grip on the level and it clattered to the floor. In fact, it felt as though I’d lost my grip on myself. Clinging to the ladder with one hand, the other still holding up the support beam, I stammered, feeling my face grow warm.
“Trust me, my urges are purely medical,” I finally replied. “You need to give your body time to heal.”
“Mhmm, sure.” Taylor grinned. “Whatever you say, Doc.”