Chapter 3
Jules
She set Fred on the kitchen counter and walked down the hall to investigate. The master bedroom door was ajar. She pushed it open slowly, her heart in her throat.
The bed was made but rumpled, like someone had sat on it while pulling on boots. Work clothes were folded on a chair. And on the nightstand—
Her phone buzzed with an incoming text.
It was from Lex.
Parts are here. But the roads are getting bad. We're closing up until the storm passes. I'll let you know when to come get your car.
She was typing a delayed response when she heard a truck engine growing closer.
Jules ran to the window. Through the snow, she could see headlights approaching and a familiar black truck climbing up the driveway through the storm.
"Oh, Faye," she whispered. "What did you do?"
The front door opened.
Lex stood in the doorway, snow swirling behind him, looking like every naughty fantasy she'd ever had. He wore work clothes, his amber eyes wide with shock.
"Jules?" His voice was rough, disbelieving. "What are you—how did you—"
"Faye and Adam brought me." The words tumbled out. "My house flooded and they said the owner wouldn't mind and that he was away but obviously they lied and they just dropped me off and left so I…I—" She stuttered to a stop and gestured around helplessly. "This is your cabin, isn't it?"
His jaw clenched. "Adam."
"I swear they didn't tell me it was yours. They said the owner was traveling or something—"
"I was at the garage." He pulled out his phone, glared at it for a few seconds and shoved it back into his pocket. "Faye was in on this?"
"Apparently." Jules wrapped her arms around herself. "Look. I can leave—"
"In this?" He gestured at the storm that was quickly becoming a complete whiteout. "You wouldn't make it to the road. And where would you go? Every place is booked solid."
"I can stay with Faye and Adam."
"You'd have to share the couch with Adam's giant wolf-dog."
"I'm sure Rocky and I could work something out."
He ran a hand through his dark hair, making it stand up in ways that shouldn't be attractive but absolutely were. "Your house flooded?"
"Pipes burst. My dad always said he'd fix them properly, but.
.." She swallowed hard. "The whole place is destroyed.
Adam said it would take three weeks of repairs, minimum.
I'm sorry I missed our appointment—your text said nine—but everything was drowning and now I think my house is ruined and I have no idea how I'm going to pay to have it all fixed and the car and—"
"Forget the car." He moved into the cabin, shutting the door against the storm. This close, she could see the tension in every line of his body. "You're safe. That's what matters."
"Lex, I really am so sorry. I had no idea this was your place. And this whole morning has just been kind of… " She struggled to find the right words, and eventually just made a helpless gesture.
He moved past her toward the kitchen, careful not to touch. "Are you hungry? You probably haven't eaten anything."
Her stomach chose that moment to growl loudly, and she realized he was right.
"There's soup," he said. "I can make grilled cheese. Unless you'd rather have some eggs."
"You don't have to—"
"Jules." He turned to look at her, and something in his expression made her breath catch.
"You've had a terrible morning. Your family home is flooded.
Our mutual friends abandoned you in a stranger's home.
The least I can do is feed you." His gaze flicked down her body, pausing on her bare calves showing between her boots and the hem of her coat.
"Why don't you go put something warm on and I'll get started on that. "
"You're not a complete stranger. And again, I really am sorry," she said quietly. "About invading your space."
"You didn't invade anything. You were brought here under false pretenses." He glanced at her. "Although I would have offered the cabin myself if I'd known about your house. You shouldn't be sleeping in your car or the store's storage room."
"I've only done that once…" Wait. "How did you—"
"People talk in places like this. That's also how I know you're too proud to ask anyone for help." His voice softened. "Your parents would want you safe and warm, not stubborn and freezing. You'll be safe here. I promise."
The mention of her parents made her throat tight.
He was right, of course. They would hate knowing she was shivering in a storage room just to prove she could handle things on her own.
And honestly, the thought of not being safe here had never even crossed her mind.
Faye might be meddlesome to a criminal degree, but she wouldn't have dumped Jules here alone if Lex wasn't completely trustworthy.
Safe. She felt safe. And that was the problem. Being safe with Lex made her want things she shouldn't.
After she changed into some dry clothes, they ate at the small table in what was mostly companionable silence, the wind howling its fury outside the sturdy log walls.
Every so often, Jules felt his eyes on her, but she focused on not slurping her soup and tried to ignore how close his knee was to hers under the counter.
She reached for her grilled cheese, ready to take another bite, when Lex’s hand suddenly shot out. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist, stopping her mid-air. His grip wasn't aggressive, but it was absolute, his palm scorching hot against her cool skin.
"What is this?"
His voice had dropped, bottoming out into a rough, gravelly vibration that seemed to rumble right through her chest. It wasn't his usual grumpy tone. It was something darker. Possessive.
Jules blinked, staring at his large, tattooed hand cuffing her much smaller wrist, then followed his intense gaze down to her own fingers. The improvised bandages she’d wrapped around them this morning in a panic were frayed, dirty, and peeling at the edges.
"Oh. It's nothing." She tried to tug her hand back, embarrassment heating her cheeks.
He didn't let go. If anything, his grip adjusted, tightening just enough to be unbreakable without hurting her. He turned her hand over, inspecting the clumsy wrap job as if it were a personal affront to him. His jaw was locked so tight a muscle ticked violently in his cheek.
"Who did this, Jules?" The words were slow, deliberate, and laced with a terrifying sort of quiet menace. Like a low growl suppressed just behind his teeth.
A shiver ran down her spine. Not fear, exactly.
No, this was something else entirely that made her breath hitch and her stomach tighten.
"Nobody did it, Lex. It’s not…” She realized with a start that he thought someone had hurt her.
The air in the kitchen felt suddenly explosive. "It was the house. The valves."
His brows drew together, the murderous edge dulling slightly into confusion. "The valves?"
"When the basement started flooding. I tried to shut the water valves off.
They were rusted shut." She bit her lip, remembering the frantic, freezing struggle in the rising water.
"It was sharp. I slipped a few times trying to get leverage.
It's just scrapes, really. And then I had to go outside to get tools and my hands were wet… " She shrugged. "It's fine."
He stared at her for a long beat, the silence thick enough to choke on.
Then he let out a harsh breath through his nose that sounded strangely like a curse.
Slowly, carefully, he released her wrist, though his gaze stayed fixed on her damaged skin as if he could heal it by sheer force of will.
The feral intensity didn't leave his eyes, it just shifted focus from an imaginary assailant to the general unfairness of her day.
"Eat." He practically growled the command, pushing her plate closer before abruptly standing up.
Before she could process the shift, he was moving to a cabinet near the sink. He returned a moment later with a sleek, professional-looking first-aid kit and set it on the counter with a definitive thud.
"Finish your sandwich," he ordered, his back to her as he started pulling out antiseptic wipes and proper gauze. "Then I'm cleaning those properly."
Jules opened her mouth to argue that she was fine, that he didn't need to bother, but a glance at his rigid shoulders told her that resistance was futile. The way he’d looked when he thought someone hurt her.
.. it was purely terrifying. And thrilling.
Which was something she would absolutely need to unpack later when she wasn't sitting three feet away from him.
She quickly finished her meal, and without another word, he took her hands.
Despite his earlier intensity, his touch was incredibly gentle as he unwrapped her messy bandages, cleaned the angry red scrapes and cuts across her knuckles and palms, applied some salve, and re-wrapped them in clean bandages with efficient skill.
When they were finally finished she insisted on helping him clean up the kitchen. It was the very least she could do. Then Jules grabbed Fred from the counter and headed for the guest room to finish unpacking.
"Jules."
She paused at the hallway.
"I'm glad you're safe. And warm. Even if our friends are manipulative assholes."
A smile tugged at her lips. "Me too."
As she closed the guest room door, she pulled out her phone to try one more text to Faye: "I know what you did. And we're going to talk about this."
It failed to send, of course.
Through the walls, she heard Lex moving around, his restless energy already making her jittery.
Outside, the storm raged harder, sealing them in together.
She was going to be stuck here for days. In a cabin. With Lex.
She looked at Fred on the dresser. "Faye is either the best friend I've ever had or the worst."
The jury was still out.