Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Jewel hugged her knees and sipped the wine, his offer swirling in her head like a kaleidoscope of emotions and broken thoughts.
He smiled and wrinkled his nose. "I know it's a tall ask, so don't answer me tonight. I've never owned a house before, so I don't know what kind of maintenance to do or even how to be a good roommate. I've only ever lived with my brothers, in the prison, in the bunkhouse, or here in the cabin."
She licked her lips, but no sound came out. Live with him? She couldn't even keep her hands to herself in this cabin. How was she supposed to be just roommates with him in a house? Then there was Destini to think of.
He shrugged, trying to play off the vulnerability that flashed across his face. "Tonight, I want to make love to you until we both pass out."
Her nipples perked, and she squeezed her knees tighter as he continued.
"Tomorrow, I want to take you to the MacDonald house and look around, see what you think, maybe eat lunch together at the diner for a proper date. Don't answer me on the plan for tomorrow yet either. We'll see what the new day brings. Deal?"
She sighed, her head swimming from the whiskey earlier, the crying, and now the wine. It was more alcohol than she was used to—but it wasn't as awkward to talk to him like this, completely naked in a bubble bath, like she'd thought it'd be.
"I—I don't know that I have any more sex left in me. Between our two times tonight and the two drinks, I'm getting pretty worn out," she said softly, setting the wine down on the tray and reaching for the cheese.
He sat up slowly and nodded, a fierce protective look coming across his features. "I'm so sorry, I should've thought. Let's go to bed then. Do you want more food? Would that help soak up the alcohol?"
Jewel nodded, her head feeling heavy. "Some bread would be good."
She chewed a cheese cube, the flavor pairing nicely with the wine, basic grocery store versions of both but delicious anyway. He stood slowly and stepped out of the tub.
The cheese turned dry in her mouth, and she froze as water and bubbles slid down his muscled body.
Jewel swallowed hard, her gaze tracing the rivulets of water cascading down his skin. She forced herself to look away, focusing instead on the cheese cube in her hand. Her cheeks burned, not just from the wine, but from the raw intimacy of the moment. He stood in front of her, hiding nothing. No pretending to be someone he wasn't, no secrets. What she saw was what he was, and who he was, was magnificent.
He wrapped a towel around his waist, movements deliberate and slow, as if sensing her vulnerability and the effect he had on her. "I think I have some of Ma's sourdough leftover," he said softly, leaning forward to kiss the top of her head, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through her.
It was the head kiss that made her stomach twist as he stepped out of the bathroom.
Her body ached in places she hadn't felt in years, a delicious soreness that reminded her of their passionate encounters. She suddenly felt exposed, her mind fuzzy from her first alcohol in months. The bathwater was cooling, the bubbles dissipating, leaving her feeling raw and uncertain.
He returned with thick slices of sourdough, tearing them into chunks and offering her a piece along with a bottle of water. His movements were gentle, almost reverent. She took the bread, appreciating how he was reading her energy, understanding her need for softness after the intense emotional and physical journey of the evening.
"Drink," he commanded gently, and she obeyed, the cool water helping to clear her foggy mind. He grabbed a fresh towel and set it beside the tub. He turned to leave, but she didn't want to be alone. The realization burned her soul, but she reached out and grabbed his hand.
"I—thank you, Chase."
He tilted his head, his expression patient and confused. "For what?"
She shrugged and sighed. "For… for letting me process this new reality, for not adding to the stress of it, for—for taking care of me."
The last part she whispered, and his other hand came up to cup her cheek. "I'll be here to take care of you for as long as you'll let me, my Jewel. Are you ready to go to bed now? You're looking mighty sleepy and glassy eyed."
She nodded with a yawn.
He reached over and grabbed the thick towel, holding it open for her.
"Come on," he murmured, holding out his hand. "Let's get you dried and warm."
Jewel took his hand and stood, water cascading down her body. He wrapped her in the thick terry cloth, his arms not holding her sexually, but with a tenderness that made her chest ache. He rubbed her shoulders, her arms, carefully patting her dry down her legs, then he swept her into his arms, bridal style.
She gasped, her arms going around his neck, and he carried her to the bed, tucking her beneath the warm quilts. She noticed how carefully he moved, how he seemed to be calibrating every gesture to avoid startling her, how calloused his hands were, hands that could be rough but were now impossibly soft.
When the blanket touched her chin, she grabbed it by the edges and looked up at him. She hated going to bed without brushing her teeth or fixing her hair, so her curls laid right. But there was no way she was going to stop him from taking care of her like this. It was nice. She'd not had someone to look after her since—since Gemma had gone back to school after Destini had been born.
His face was vulnerable as he paused. "Is it alright if I sleep in the bed too? If you move in with me at the new house, you'll have your own room and bed, but the couch isn't exactly comfortable here."
She nodded, not even hesitating. "Of course."
He sighed in relief. "Alright, thanks."
He turned back to the bathroom, and she heard him brushing his teeth, the light from the bathroom the only one in the small cabin. Her eyes fluttered, and she was asleep before he even came back to bed.
She woke the next morning confused at the massive heat waves coming from behind her. Chase's arm was draped heavily over her waist, his breath steady and warm against the back of her neck. She could feel the hard planes of his chest pressed against her back, the muscled length of his body curled protectively around her.
For a moment, she lay perfectly still, absorbing the unfamiliar sensation of being held. Her body ached—not just from their lovemaking, but from emotional exhaustion. The events of last night replayed in her mind: the tears, the vulnerability, the unexpected tenderness.
She had no way of explaining what was happening between them. Were they starting a relationship, or had their encounters simply been emotionally charged side-effects of shared trauma?
Instead of confronting her feelings, her mind drifted to Destini. She'd have to call her soon, explain the complicated situation. Her daughter would be worried, would want details and an answer about who her father was. Perhaps Chase was right, and they should go tell Destini together.
Chase stirred behind her, his arm tightening momentarily before he seemed to remember himself. He carefully extracted himself, moving slowly so as not to wake her. She heard him padding softly around the cabin, the sounds of coffee brewing, wood being stacked in the stove.
She kept her eyes closed, listening. The intimacy of the moment felt fragile, like something that might shatter if she analyzed it too closely. Not just the moment, but of their entire relationship.
The cabin creaked softly as Chase moved about, the morning light filtering through the thin curtains. Jewel kept her eyes closed, savoring the warmth and the quiet and loathe to confront whatever this was between them.
When the smell of fresh coffee finally drew her from her half-sleep, she opened her eyes. Chase stood by the window, black-out curtains drawn back to let in the natural light. Wearing only jeans, his back muscled and scarred with a steaming mug in his hand, he turned, catching her watching him.
"Morning," he said softly. "Coffee?"
She shook her head, suddenly shy. Last night's intimacy felt both distant and immediate. "No, thanks. I have a mushroom coffee in my bag. I had to give up a lot when I changed my diet this year."
"Can I rummage in your bag and bring it to you?"
Her cheeks burned as she nodded, sitting up and clutching the sheet and blanket to her chest. Who knew that a convict could be such a gentleman?
He brought her bag, setting it carefully on the bed's edge. His movements were deliberate, considerate. "How're you feeling?"
"Sore," she admitted. "But okay."
He winced at her words and nodded. "I'll step outside if you'd like to change." He didn't move, just stood holding his coffee and staring down at her with a guarded expression. Finally, he sighed and said, "Have you thought about the plan for today? What would you like to do?"
She licked her lips and glanced away, picking at the blanket. "I—I wouldn't mind hanging out with you today. Talking. Is the MacDonald place in good shape after all these years? I didn't actually look at it when I was looking at listings with Jade."
His shoulders seemed to relax as he smiled. "Only one way to find out. Get ready and let's go see it."
He grabbed a t-shirt from the dresser, a flannel shirt from the back of a chair, and his boots by the door. With coffee cup in his hand, the door clicked behind him.
Jewel dressed quickly, pulling on comfortable jeans and a soft sweater. Her movements were tentative, her mind still processing the intimate vulnerability of the night before. This same thing had happened fifteen years ago. That summer, after their first time, she'd run off to college because she'd been so—she still couldn't describe it. Scared wasn't the right term, but the intensity between them had shocked her.
She found her mushroom coffee packet and prepared it with shaking hands, the cabin's silence punctuated only by the beeping of the microwave that heated her drink. She easily found a travel cup in his meager belongings, and she took her spare medication that she kept with her. As a vet, she never knew when she'd end up getting called in the middle of the night. She'd long ago learned to always be prepared with a go-bag in the truck.
She brushed her teeth while the microwave counted down, then cleaned up after herself, making the bed and wiping down the prep area she'd used.
When she stepped outside, Chase was chopping wood beside the cabin, his axe rising and falling with practiced precision. Each swing revealed muscles rippling beneath his skin, scars telling stories of hard living. He stopped when he heard her approach, wiping sweat from his brow.
She licked her lips, desire sending a knot in her stomach once more. It was like she couldn't get enough of him.
"Ready?" he asked, leaning the axe against a nearby stump and grabbing the t-shirt that sat on top.
She nodded, trying to hide the flush creeping up her neck and fighting the urge to trace the muscles moving beneath his skin as he pulled the shirt on. "Ready."
As they climbed into her truck, she was suddenly nervous about seeing the house. The MacDonald property represented more than just potential real estate—it felt like a potential future, something she wasn't sure she was ready to contemplate sharing with him.
The truck ride was quiet, comfortable in its silence. No forced conversation, just the soft rumble of the engine and occasional glances exchanged.