Chapter 27
Gray
The next morning, I reluctantly slid out of bed, finding it difficult to leave Betty’s warmth. Standing at the bedside, I held the comforter aloft, allowing myself a moment to admire her naked form.
She lay on her back, one arm relaxed over her head and the other beside her.
Her chocolate hair spread out across the pillow.
The frustrating strands had an innate propensity to tangle, and I wondered how she’d kept them so pencil-straight and perfect in New York. Personally, I liked it better this way.
The knuckles of my free hand brushed down her abdomen to her hipbone, skin so smooth, you couldn’t resist touching her. Her dusky nipples hardened, a reaction to both my caress and the cool air. I loved the way her body reacted to me. It was a growing addiction.
When I pulled back my touch, her lashes gave a slight flutter, and her mouth parted to murmur something inaudible. Endless kisses had swollen her rose-tinted lips, and love marks dotted the skin of her neck. I watched her chest rise and fall; her breasts were a sight I’d never tire of seeing.
God, I still wasn’t satisfied, my cock aching for her tight warmth; I could never get enough. She must have been sore after all we’d done last night, but I forced myself away. I had to give her a chance to recover, and the best way to do that was to prepare a warm bath for her before she woke.
I gently let the comforter fall over her, tattooing her beautiful form in my mind. My arms ached, and my body was sore, a feeling I hadn’t experienced since a full day of stripping logs of bark to build this home.
I stretched my arms overhead, my abs lengthening before reaching down to the floor. Not wanting to wake her, I quietly gathered my clothes and dressed in the bathroom before slipping out the cabin door.
Standing on the porch, I took a deep breath and let it out slow.
Everything felt different, like the last piece of a puzzle clicking into place.
I could see the complete picture for the first time since I’d arrived out here.
In the ten years I spent alone, I never thought I’d feel this complete again.
Even though our situation wasn’t perfect, it was all we could do for now.
I just hoped it would be enough for her.
Could she truly be happy here and still have everything she desired?
She hadn’t complained, other than missing movies, which we’d solved with the projector.
Minor problems like that weren’t a hurdle.
I’d solve anything if it meant keeping her.
The crunch of my shoes on the gravel as I stepped off the porch was a welcome sound.
The only snow left in the yard lived in the shadowed spots where the sun couldn’t reach.
I walked to the shed, emptied the old water from the tub, and set the pump to refill it.
While that was happening, I added logs to the stove and started the fire.
Larry skidded into the shed, chattering and squealing wildly.
Twisting his direction, I laughed. “Sorry, bud. Villy’s still sleeping.”
He chattered again, sprinting toward me. He was acting weird, almost terrified. Just then, a black and white blur came tearing into the shed at his heels, barking and yipping.
Startled, I jumped at the sight and sound. “Whoa, holy shit,” I cursed out, stumbling back.
Larry scrambled up my leg like a tree, perching on my shoulders and trying to hide in my hair. The black and white blur stopped a few feet away from us, barking so fervently that its front paws leapt skyward.
It took me a moment to process, frozen in response. Initially, my brain screamed “wolf!” but this dog had a red harness and a leash dragging in its wake. It was tame.
Hands flying toward the ceiling, I stepped back to placate the canine. “Okay, where did you come from?”
Did a hunter lose him? Or a hiker? Was this the moment he’d lead me to a dead body, and I’d have to call in the park ranger?
He darted back and forth, growling and jumping between barks, as if to herd me into the corner and keep me there. A part of me couldn’t shake the fact that he looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite place why.
My heart pounded in my chest, mind racing for answers.
A shuffled footstep echoed from the door. My head whipped in that direction.
A very broad, dark figure rounded through the doorway, backlit by the morning sun. I had to blink hard to make sure I was seeing this right. It was a man, and the figure did not appear docile; its stance was defensive.
“Shit...” I muttered, my hands falling to my sides as I scanned my surroundings for a weapon, anything to defend myself.
As I searched, the figure reached for something at his side, and I saw the glint of a gun barrel. “Whoa, wait,” I said, pushing my hands forward and stepping back behind the tub.
Was this one of my uncle’s men?
The man growled, “I warned you, asshole. Come near Bee again, and I’ll kill you.”
My hands fell immediately. I knew that voice.
“Nash?” I asked, standing straight.
He grunted.
Yep, that was Nash, alright—Betty’s brother. What on earth was he doing here, and how? “What are you doing here?” I asked, unafraid. I knew he wouldn’t shoot me, just as I knew he wouldn’t have shot me last fall. He wasn’t that kind of man.
“Fuck you, asshole,” he bit out.
Did that entire family make the F-word a part of their casual vocabulary?
I huffed and slouched forward, bracing my hands on my knees to regroup. I needed a minute. The blood whooshing in my ears was deafening.
Why hadn’t Ethan called to warn me they’d left Scotland? I told him to monitor it. Maybe they’d given him the slip, or maybe Ethan’s attention was elsewhere.
I looked up again just as a small silhouette peeked into the shed behind Nash, causing the dog to stop barking.
The figure’s head swiveled, taking in the scene for a moment before calling out, “Nash!” It was a woman’s voice. “Nash, for heaven’s sake, put that down!” The small figure stomped forward, right up to Nash, and placed a hand on the arm holding the gun.
“Sybil,” Nash hissed. “Get back. Let me handle this.”
“Don’t you Sybil me, dickhead. Put. It. Down,” she challenged. “You can’t handle shit.”
I was shocked when he actually complied. The dog was barking at Nash now, taking Sybil’s side.
Larry was currently well into act three of playing dead, draped over me like a scarf.
“Bill!” she hissed next, addressing the dog. “Would you please shut up and sit down? You don’t get to yell at Nash too. That’s my job.”
The dog, Bill, immediately did as he was told.
Holy hell, who was this tiny thing, and how did she hold so much power?
As she took a step closer, I recalled her features and placed where I’d seen her before.
She was Betty’s new sister-in-law, Nash’s wife.
I’d seen her last fall when she accompanied them to the warehouse to steal back the PERL art.
Though most of my attention had been on Betty back then, I remembered this tiny woman became his fiancée that night.
They bickered back and forth, hands animated and faces catching the occasional ray of overhead light. They both looked angry and stubborn, not unlike Betty and me in a fight.
I crossed my arms, figuring I might as well get comfortable since it looked like it was going to be a while. Moments passed, and the water reached the top of the tub. I stepped to turn it off; the sudden movement startled them out of their bickering and back into the present.
“Stay put, asshole,” Nash growled at me. “You’re going to get yelled at next.”
I didn’t bother to listen, shutting off the water.
The black and white dog took this opportunity to scoot in my direction, while somehow sitting during the process and not breaking his owner’s command.
When he reached me, he pushed a cold, wet snout into my hand and sniffed, then licked.
I ran a hand over his head, then scratched behind his ears.
He let out a contented yawn, tongue lolling.
Larry continued his lifeless act. Bill hadn’t noticed him.
“See, Sybil? Worst guard dog ever. This is why you can’t walk alone at night anymore. I told you he wasn’t good at stopping anything,” Nash said. “Bill’s befriended practically half the Scottish countryside.”
Sybil pushed at Nash’s chest, “Stop worrying so much!” she reprimanded. “And chill out,” she warned before marching over to me and extending a timid hand. “Hi, I’m Sybil. It’s nice to meet you properly, and this time in the absence of a heist.”
I glanced at her hand, then at her face, fully illuminated by the overhead fairy lights. She was a pretty girl with blonde, nearly white hair and striking blue eyes. There was a sharp wariness, accented by tentative confidence, and it intrigued me. “Hi, I’m Gray.”
She chuckled derisively. “That’s a much better name than The Rat Man. I must say,” she teased.
I chuckled, glancing at her husband behind her, who was pacing with his hands on his hips. He looked ready to spring at me, if not for this small wall of defense that was shaking my hand.
“Where’s Betty?” Nash growled, impatient. “I’d better not find pieces of her in a freezer or buried in this dump.” He gestured around.
That was uncalled for. Betty had put a lot of work into making this place the opposite of that, and he was being disrespectful. I didn’t like it.
“I ate her,” I retorted, feeling bold and cheeky.
Nash lunged, but little Sybil stopped him again with a small hand on his chest. “Jesus, Nash. He didn’t eat her.
Use your eyes, you oaf.” She gestured around the room.
“Betty was clearly here. There are scented candles everywhere, and her handwriting is on every label in this shed. The organization literally screams, Betty.”
I nodded. “She’s very organized,” I agreed.
Sybil gestured to the tub. “And look, he was probably filling this tub for her, which seems like a sweet gesture, don’t you agree?” she added, looking at me for confirmation. “Am I right?”