Chapter 7
Chevonne
I may have screamed a little when the lights went out. A moment later I heard the front door open again. Princess let out a low woof and trotted out to make sure it wasn’t an intruder.
“Are you okay?” Brevin called.
“I’m good,” I called back.
My brave St. Bernard came back in and Brevin wasn’t far behind. He stopped in the doorway on his way to the kitchen, carrying a cooler and some bags, looking far from upset about the power situation in the dim light of the fire. “I’ll be right back,” he said.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about being holed up in Brevin’s home, alone with him, no electricity and no way to get out. But at least I wasn’t dying of hypothermia under a pine tree. I doubted tea and steaks were still on the menu. At least for us. Princess might have a feast, though.
It was with that thought still in my mind that I heard the distinct sound of a whistling kettle. A few minutes later, Brevin appeared at the side of the couch with a tray carrying two steaming mugs and a plate of Oreos.
“Gas stove,” he said by way of explanation as he placed the tray on the coffee table in front of the couch. There was a pot of sugar with a spoon and a small jug of milk on the tray with the mugs. “We won’t be cold or hungry, at least not until we run out of food.”
“And when will that be?” I asked.
“Three or four days. We should be out of here long before that.”
I nodded, uncomfortable at the realization there would be sleeping arrangements to figure out.
Even if this cabin had multiple bedrooms, was there only one fireplace?
I didn’t dare ask in case he thought I was hoping we’d sleep together.
Tina’s voice echoed in my head that sleeping with Brevin was the last thing I wanted, but was it?
Between how I’d felt about him in high school and the way he was taking care of me now …
Better not to make any life-altering decisions in the midst of a brain fog.
Brevin sat beside me and asked, “Would you like me to take the teabag out? It’s been in there for about two minutes now.” As he asked, he took the teabag out of one of the mugs.
“Yes, please. And I take it black, no sugar.”
“Me too.” He handed me a mug and picked up his own and held it aloft. “Cheers,” he said, his eyes meeting mine for a brief moment before he took a sip.
I did too and felt the hot liquid go all the way down.
“Are you warming up?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “It’s just my feet that are cold now.”
“If you’d like to swing your feet up on the couch, I can try to massage some circulation into them.”
How I would have loved to hear him offer me a foot rub back in high school. Now? I was almost as excited, or would be if I let myself hope. But I did that once before, and look where it got me.
Still, my feet were cold and I worried I might lose a toe, so I turned in my seat and put my feet up. Brevin patted his thigh, and I extended my right leg to rest my heel on it. Rather than begin his massage, he picked up his mug.
I was about to ask him if he wanted me to move while he drank his tea when he said, “Hold on.”
He wrapped his palms around the mug and held it, warming them. When he put it down and took my foot in both hands, I closed my eyes and let out a moan of pleasure. Even through my socks, his grasp felt like a soothing, warm hug.
He moved his palms in small circles against my toes, stroking life into them. It was painful, but it felt amazing.
“Is that okay?” he asked.
When I opened my eyes, I found him looking at me, smiling, and it was only then I realized I was smiling too.
“It’s wonderful,” I said. “Thank you.” I sat up and stretched to reach for my mug.
Moving, bending brought back my time under the tree.
As short as it might have been, the cold had stiffened me up.
All part of the freezing process I’d escaped, thanks to this lovely, kind man.
This gorgeous man, I realized. That certainly hadn’t changed since his Beast days. But other things had.
“You’re not the same,” I commented, even as I wondered if I should. I sat back against the arm of the couch with my mug and took a sip, watching Brevin.
“How so?” he asked. He wasn’t looking at me now. All his concentration was on my foot.
“I don’t know. You’re more … still. Back in high school, you were always moving around, never in one place for long.”
Brevin chuckled softly. “It’s taken a long time to learn, but you’re right. I’m still like that when I’m working, but with a lot of effort, I sometimes manage to relax.”
“What do you do here if not rest? I can’t imagine you live here year-round.” I scanned the room, the coziness of it. It looked to me like a place built for relaxation.
“I was here on a week’s vacation, actually.” He hesitated dramatically. “… working, of course. But I was trying. Honest.” He leaned forward to pick his mug up. This time, he took a sip, his hands wrapped around the cup again. I could almost feel the heat on my other foot already.
“So you’re a workaholic, then,” I said.
“I can be. Real estate is an endless case of go-go-go if you want to make a living at it. But while there’s not much else to do with my time …
” He shrugged. “I’m practicing taking vacations for when I have someone to share my life with.
” He put the cup down and motioned for me to put my other foot on his thigh.
I hesitated. “Are you telling me you have all this space and you live here alone?” My face heated. “I’m sorry,” I added quickly. “I don’t mean to pry.”
Brevin lifted his gaze from the foot he was waiting for to my eyes. “No need to be sorry. And yes, I’m alone. But my condo in Ottawa is a lot smaller than this. I got this place so I can have friends stay for the occasional weekend in the summer.”
I finally gave him my foot, careful not to twist my ankle. His hands on my toes were just as warm and soothing as they were on my other one.
“How’s your ankle?” he asked.
“It seems fine as long as I keep it straight.”
Brevin nodded and moved his hands down my foot, massaging gently as he went.
“What about you?” he asked. “Do you have anyone to share your space with?”
“Just Princess.” I glanced at the sleeping beast. She looked quite at home stretched out on her side in front of the fire, warming her back. “I’ve tried dating, but it never works out. I guess I just haven’t found the right guy.”
Or one that can compare to my high school crush who stood me up. The beast in my life that I could kiss onstage but who wouldn’t give me the time of day off it.
“Sounds familiar,” he said, and I wondered for a split second if he was reading my thoughts. But no. He was talking about dating.
I sipped my tea to give myself something to do so I wouldn’t blurt out the hurt he’d caused me all that time ago.
The hurt I realized hadn’t completely gone away.
Maybe Tina was right—I needed to get as far away from Brevin Masterson as possible.
Except it was hard to fully believe that with my foot between his hands.
The silence stretched between us with nothing but the popping and crackling of the fire as music. The flames began to lower and it steadily got darker until there was barely any light in the room. But it wasn’t awkward. In fact, I felt like I belonged here almost. A dangerous feeling indeed.
“You should drink your tea,” I said at length. “Before it gets cold.”
Brevin nodded and leaned forward to retrieve his mug. “I suppose I was lost in memories. Of high school. Do you remember much about the play?”
I nearly laughed. “Of course.”
He sipped his tea and put it back on the table. Then he leaned over to the cupboard in the side table and opened it. When he straightened, he had a string of battery-operated fairy lights in his hand. He turned them on and stretched them out on the coffee table in front of us.
“That’s better,” he said, turning to me. “Because I want you to be able to see my face when I tell you I’m sorry for standing you up at the end of our last school year.”
My heart and my breath stood still. He remembered.