Chapter 14 #2
Well, that was enlightening. We sit in silence again. So much for using this time to get to know each other and maybe find common ground.
Caleb laid out extra towels on the floor, but the cold seeps through.
There’s nothing comfortable about the accommodations or the company.
My leg is asleep, and my butt is following suit.
I need to get up and stretch, but I can’t hazard a wardrobe malfunction while trying to stand, so I settle for shifting to my hip and crossing my other leg. It means my bad leg is exposed.
“Does it hurt?”
Most people ask what happened, but this isn’t any better.
“Yep,” I say, and he releases a wry laugh. I think he recognizes the mimicry.
“You favor that foot sometimes.” He’s undeterred.
“Nice of you to notice.” Most people don’t until they see the scars, and then they have a million questions or look away and pretend they didn’t see.
“When you’re tired, or you’ve been sitting too long.”
And my hackles flare again. Why can’t I ask him a mundane question about where he’s lived, but he feels safe to ask about my leg? “Or someone takes me on a surprise hike?”
“You could’ve said no. I gave you an out.”
“So you were lying when you said you were asking about my shoes.”
“Your shoes are also crap. You should wear better shoes.”
I release an incredulous laugh, wrapping my towel tighter around my waist and pushing to stand.
To hell if I flash him. Maybe he can find another imperfection to dissect.
I pace to the other end of the room, but my entire body is screaming at me.
It’s cold and drafty away from the shared body heat of Caleb and Houdini’s corner.
“How much longer do you think they’ll be?” I don’t want to commit to the cold corner, but I need to make a statement, so I pace in front of the door.
“Thirty minutes.”
“Really?”
Caleb laughs. “How would I know? There could be blocked roads due to the storm. Not to mention the earthquake.”
“It was so small it was hardly an earthquake,” I say. “It didn’t even trigger one of those alerts Abby added to my phone. Yours didn’t go off either. And those are for large quakes.” But maybe cell service went out before there was a chance for a warning. I don’t really know how it all works.
“It brought down a tree,” Caleb protests, waving to the blocked door as if it’s the smoking gun.
“It was the drought, or the beetles, or the rain, or the lightning—probably all of the above. We don’t know it was the earthquake.”
“It didn’t help,” he grumbles.
I lean against the desk and sigh. “Sonny was wrong. This place isn’t magic. It’s cursed.”
“This place is blessed,” he says. “And then you show up, and we have broken bones, freak storms, and motherfucking earthquakes.”
“Wow.” I make an exaggerated expression of awe. “I am very powerful. I wonder what else I could curse. Maybe you should be nicer to me so I don’t put a hex on you.”
He chuckles, and I catch another rare smile that changes his face from austere to elated. “I’m plenty nice to you,” he says, the smile still in his voice. “I could have let you get crushed by that tree.”
“I didn’t need saving.” But I watch him, cuddled in the corner with his eighty-pound puppy, an arm draped over the dog’s spine, soothing the anxiety out of him.
This man is a protector. He’s built for it.
The towel is too small to cover him completely, so there’s a slit extending up to his thigh.
It’s obscene. His leg is dusted with a light coat of hair, his upper thigh paler than his calf, and the length of it is muscled and strong.
He looks like he could deadlift the tree blocking our escape.
I think he catches me staring, because he clears his throat, and I dart my focus away.
“But I appreciate the gesture. You could have taken the opportunity to let nature do your dirty work.”
He barks out a laugh. “I guess I missed my chance.” He’s looking right at me—and wow, that grin glows even in the fading light. I feel his smile under my skin like the first embers of a fire. “Unfortunately, I promised your mom I’d be nicer to you.”
And just like that, the moment passes. “We missed game night.” I note how late it’s gotten. “You weren’t supposed to pick up Abby, were you?”
He shakes his head. “Lina was planning on picking her up from school and dropping her at your mom’s. And I bet the whole town is there by now, planning the rescue and worrying.”
I don’t like the thought of Mom worrying about me. I hope she trusts we’re okay. I sink to the floor, but Caleb grunts. “I don’t like you sitting in front of those shelves.”
“There’s not gonna be another earth—”
But he talks over me. “It’s warmer over here without the draft from that vent.” He points a finger toward the ceiling above me. “You made your point by walking away. I won’t ask you any more personal questions.”
I should be relieved. But for some reason, I’m struck by a wave of disappointment. I don’t know how long we’ll be stuck here, or why I’m so curious about Caleb, but I don’t want to sit here in silence. I traipse back over, finding my spot beside Houdini, who shifts to rest his chin on my thighs.
“Traitor,” Caleb mumbles.
The wind picks up, and branches scrape against the cabin. Houdini whines, lifts his head, and shuffles off to hide under the desk again. I feel the absence like a gust of refrigerated air. His thick coat was welcome insulation.
“Can you believe we met only a week ago?” Caleb asks.
“Happy anniversary to you, too. I’m touched you remembered.” My tone is sarcastic, but his words warm my body like a glass of wine.
“Don’t be flattered. It’s just that I’m starving, which reminded me I met you while picking up Friday dinner.”
I roll my eyes, even though it’s too dark for him to see the gesture. “Alcohol would really come in handy about now, too.”
Caleb chuckles and shifts until he’s stretched out on the floor beside me, his palms clasped and resting on his stomach.
“Are you going to sleep?” I ask. Is he really accepting we’ll have to spend the night in here, half naked and freezing?
He opens one eye. “Do you have a better idea?” When I don’t answer, he settles into a prone posture as I huddle in the corner, upright and uncomfortable.
There’s no way I can sleep next to him, in this cool, dusty space on a bare wood floor while the wind threatens to finish the job of the fallen tree. And I resent him a little for being able to.