Chapter 8
Eight
CALLUM
M y bones rattle as I lie on my small bunk in the hut. May as well be a fucking igloo. Just as predicted, the cold weather did a hairpin turn. Grinding my jaw shut to stop my molars from busting from the chatter, I roll over and try to ignore the ache that’s slowly consuming my body.
Goddamn winter. It’s been a long time since I’ve had to rough it. I duck my head under the blankets, hoping each steamy breath will warm me in my cocoon.
The cloud of steam that puffs with each exhale fades and cools miserably. My hands start to cramp.
Fuck me.
Must be below freezing this time.
Not unusual for the East Coast, just unlikely.
At any rate, I refuse to go to sleep and freeze to death.
Tossing the covers from my half-seized body, I roll off the bed and to my feet.
Huddled in a coat, I shove my socked feet into my boots and brace for things to get worse before they get better.
I swing the hut door open and make a run for the house.
Inside is warmer. Not warm.
I glance to the fireplace. Fire’s died out.
Fuck.
With stiff, aching fingers, I pluck up logs and toss them in. Grabbing the fire iron, I shunt the coals about until the wood catches. As it flares back to life, I close the door and open the flue. If this one’s gone out, has the bedroom one also burned down?
I take the stairs two at a time.
The hollow of the stairwell in the cylindrical space is freezing. The cold air is sinking. And it’s going to roll into whatever space it finds. With the bedroom door pinned back, Evie must be freezing, too.
I pad into the room. She lies on her side, facing the fireplace.
Her body shivers. The duvet and the one thin blanket she has on are not nearly enough.
I close the door to stave off the sinking cold and make my way to the small fireplace.
As quiet as I can, I stoke it, gently sliding the logs over the coals.
When they catch, I adjust the flue and shut the door.
Evie doesn’t wake but still shivers. From the old cupboard, I hunt through the hanging clothes to find the extra blankets on the bottom. Plucking up two of the heaviest, I unfold one and lay it over Evie. After adding the last one, I tug off my coat, toe off my boots, and slide in under the covers.
Evie’s shivers shake the bed. Hell, how she hasn’t woken up is beyond me.
Lying on my back, I stare at the light fixture.
She’s going to be pissed when she wakes up.
I bet the look on her pouty little face will be worth it, though.
That, and not freezing to death in my sleep.
I raise my arms, tucking my hands under my head.
Turning my head, I watch her sleep for a while.
After ten minutes, her shivers subside. She murmurs and rolls onto her back, and I take one last glance at her.
Those elegant angles and perfect damn lips.
I roll over and the warmth of being tucked up with the fireplace and extra blankets is stifling. I tug my shirt off and settle in.
This is a much better way to die.
I fall asleep with a smirk on my face, imagining how tomorrow morning is going to go.
“The hell!” The screech reaches my ears before I register where I am. “Holy shit!”
The bed rocks, the blankets shifting sideways in a violent sway.
Cracking one eye open, I squint against the stream of golden light pouring through the porthole window.
A harried, flannelette-clad woman, brown eyes burning, seethes, where she stands by her side of the bed.
I resist the urge to chuckle. Sitting up, I sweep both hands down my face.
The blanket, or what’s left of it on my side, falls into my lap. My naked, bare lap.
Fuck. That’s right, I got hot and stripped off.
“Callum! Why are you in my bed ?”
I groan. It’s way too fucking early.
I barely slept.
And I can’t decide if it’s because I was next to Evie all night or because I wanted to make sure the room stayed warm. I’ll go with the latter.
“First of all, this is my house. My bed. Second, how about a little gratitude for not waking up dead.”
“What? That doesn’t make any sense. You can’t wake up if you’re dead...”
Evie looks to the fireplace, still burning away nicely, then lowers her gaze to the bundle of blankets on her side. She hugs her body, inching forward, as if she’s cold again.
My eyes drift to her pert nipples, before my proper brain has a chance to catch it. Yep, she’s cold. I pull the blankets back on her side. “Hop back in before you freeze.”
She gapes, nodding at what I assume is my naked body, somewhat covered by the blanket now.
“Don’t get your panties in a knot, I’m getting up. Fire needs more wood downstairs by now, anyhow.”
I make to rise, and she spins around awkwardly, hands flying over her face. I roll my eyes. When I stand and pull on my pants, I see her socks pulled halfway up her calves, the pajama pants tucked into them.
It’s fucking adorable.
A moment later, she turns back around. Her mussed-up hair sits tossed around her shoulders, that bottom lip tugged through her teeth. Brows lowering, she opens her mouth to say something, but the words disintegrate into a breathless silence.
Heat blooms in my chest, sending blood south.
Time for me to leave.
I head for the door as I grunt out, “You’re welcome.”
She tilts her head as if in apology as her eyes soften further. And I stalk down the stairs, pulling on my coat as I go.
With the cold snap well and truly behind us, and a week of awkward nights in the same bed, we venture off the island.
Evie sits on the bow of the cruiser, hair whipping about her face, head hanging back, hands planted on the bow behind her as her face tilts toward the sun.
Seeing her like this has me thinking thoughts, processing sensations I shouldn’t damn well have about a twentysomething.
Still, my gaze rarely wanders from her lithe form draped over my boat like she fucking belongs here.
It’s good to see her unwind, come out of her shell. She spent the first month here tucked away, as if she was punishing herself. I hated it. Hated that she felt the need to shrink herself. Nobody should be made to feel that is their only option to fit with this life.
Especially not a woman like Evie.
Firefly buffets over the waves, but the ride is pretty tame compared to some days.
Spray shoots up and falls like rain over her.
She squeals, rolling onto her hands and knees before she crawls toward the cabin.
I chuckle at her yelp, but when she tilts her head up, her soaked hair hanging around her shoulders, her deep browns meeting mine, it dies out in my throat.
Air lodges, stuck solid for the second that her lips part. She stills, realizing she’s crawling toward me. I white-knuckle the steering wheel. Every inch of my deprived being zaps to life. I can’t take my eyes off her. Still, the boat rocks over the water, pushing forward.
Shaking her head, she dips her face and climbs to her feet, having made it to the railing.
I set my gaze on the horizon. Where it should have been all along.
Where it should stay . The engine whines, and I check the gauges.
Plenty of fuel. Everything looks normal.
I throttle back a little way as a precaution.
Don’t want to overheat the old girl. I tap the radio and the screen blinks.
Good.
Evie makes her way into the cabin, wringing her hair between her hands. Her face is bare. And god, it’s like the first time seeing her. Those big brown eyes that held me captive moments ago are stunning. Her face, with plump ruby lips curled in a smile, is perfect symmetry.
Her glasses sit on the boat’s console dash. She plucks them up, sliding them on.
Eyes on the horizon, McCreary.
She leans against the cabin wall, turning her head to one side to look ahead.
The smooth, delicate angles of her neck and jaw fill my periphery.
Her scent shrouds the small place, rising with the tang of the briny water she’s doused in.
Her pale-blue V-neck shirt clings to her body.
And it takes every bit of propriety this man has to cement my focus on the horizon.
Where it damn belongs.
“Are we there yet?” Evie says.
I pay her a cautionary glance, and mirth lights up her eyes. Fucking brat.
“Nope,” I grunt out.
But she doesn’t respond, only sighing as she studies the same horizon I am fixated on. The boat lurches with a larger wave.
“Ah!” Evie yelps, her hands snapping around my biceps. They barely wrap around it.
I raise an eyebrow at her, and she worries her bottom lip through her teeth.
Christ’s sake.
After a beat, she releases me and reaffirms her grip on the console, stepping into it to face forward.
Doesn’t like surprises, I guess. I double-check the gauges, and we travel in some sort of silence.
I wouldn’t call it comfortable. Maybe more like pleasant silence with an undercurrent of lust, at least on my part.
Fucking hell, maybe I should stay over this trip.
Sort this needy shit out. I’m sure I could find a willing participant at the local tavern.
Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had a one-night stand.
Only, the potential aftermath of Iris’s wrath when the gossip mill gets back to her stops me from taking that particular little plan any further.
I’ve never been this town’s favorite son.
After everything that happened back then, there will always be some folks that will never come around.
Serves me right.
The engine splutters. With a loud clunk and grind, we slow to a halt. The water slaps into Firefly, shunting her side to side.
“What was that?” Evie says softly, worry creasing her face.
“Hell.” I squat with a grunt and fling open the console panel. Nothing amiss with the fuse panel. “Stay here.”
A strained giggle slips through her lips. “Where would I go?”