Chapter 16 Darby
DARBY
Evidently, I sleep like the dead. When I wake, I’m not sure what time it is but the room is brighter, and Henrik’s gone. The blinds are up enough for the sunlight to confirm the storm’s over.
I could leave today. Within the hour.
I could be at my parent’s this evening. Put on some shorts and lay out in the sun tomorrow.
Or I could lie here. In Henrik’s bed.
That sounds a whole lot better right now.
Sitting up on the edge of the bed, I stretch, enjoying the dull ache in my hips. I haven’t had my back blown out in forever, let alone wrapped my legs around anything nearly as big as him.
Whoa. I’m blushing and he’s not even in here staring at me, let alone touching me. We didn’t really even get that crazy in bed, but it was soooo good. Unforgettably good. Like “How am I supposed to go back to my cubicle and city apartment?” good.
One night with the sexy lumberjack, and I’m starting to think blizzards aren’t so bad.
I hear the clickety-clack of Skadi’s nails seconds before she trots into the room. She hops up on the bed with a happy string of yips and yowls. Telling me all about her morning so far. Harassing me about how late I slept.
“Okay, okay,” I play-grumble as I slide off the high giant’s bed to my feet. “Let me…”
I start to say,“find some clothes,” but Mr. Perfect already brought my bags up for me, so finding something to wear should be easy.
I didn’t hear a thing, despite him lugging my thousand-pound suitcase up the stairs.
Okay, it’s not that heavy, but I guarantee I wouldn’t have been able to keep from waking anyone up.
Kneeling on the rug, I open the suitcase on the floor rather than trying to throw it up on the too-tall bed.
Ironically, I don’t have that many outfits to wear that are suitable for Colorado winter other than the leggings I wore yesterday.
In my defense, I planned to be in Vegas, not seduce a sexy lumberjack in the mountains.
My favorite pair of jeans will have to do. I wish I’d brought a nice sweater to bring out the blue in my eyes, but I’ll have to settle for my old college sweatshirt. At least I can skip the bra and maybe surprise him later, assuming he goes exploring.
The attached bathroom is spacious but Spartan and minimalist. All black marble, the same wood walls, black vanity with a double sink.
No tub. The shower alone is larger than my entire bathroom in town, but it’d have to be for a man of his size.
Two water jets take me a few seconds to figure out.
He laid out several thick black towels on the vanity, but the rest of its surface is empty except for a bottle of hand soap.
I can’t resist taking a few seconds to snoop in the drawers, just enough to see what kinds of things he might use. Is he really so neat—or did he just sling crap away hoping I wouldn’t look?
He’s really this neat. Granted, he’s only using one drawer of the monstrously large vanity, but everything is tidy and organized.
The mirror above the vanity is a large LCD light-up cabinet.
Inside its pristine glass shelves, I find a couple of bottles of basic necessities like ibuprofen and Tums, a box of Band-Aids, lotion, aftershave, and a bottle of beard oil.
That’s it.
Meanwhile, I’m unfolding my travel bag and looking for a place to hang it up, stuffed with products and hair accessories, which doesn’t even include my makeup bag, and I don’t wear that much makeup.
Which means there’s plenty of room for all my crap.
The thought stuns me enough I gape at myself in the mirror for a full count of three before I shake my head at my own foolishness and jump in the shower. I’m not moving in, for fuck’s sake. I barely know the guy.
Sure, he’s fabulous in bed. We had a great time.
But I don’t want to live out here in the wilderness. I have a life in Denver.
A shitty life, my brain insists.
It’s not like I’ve been happy for years. Ever since I had to close the bakery.
The same old arguments and thoughts circle the drain like the suds as I rinse.
I could open a new place of my own. But I don’t have the spoons for that kind of work any longer.
I could hire help, but why bother? I put my heart and soul into the last place.
I don’t have anything left to start again.
I wouldn’t live through losing another business I built from the ground up.
Is this really all you want to do with your life?
Endless numbers in meaningless columns. Shuffling manilla folders and sending electronic files for signatures.
At least I won’t end up like Tim, burning files in a dumpster. Right? Right.
“Good talk, Darby,” I say sarcastically to myself in the foggy mirror. Though I hit the little orange flame button and it immediately starts to dispel the mist. If I ever get my own house again, I definitely need one of these mirrors.
I didn’t bring my hairdryer, and the big guy doesn’t seem to have one, so I’ll just have to air dry my hair and hope for the best. Hopefully it’ll have time to dry before I head…
Back? Outside? Onward?
What the fuck are you doing here, Darby?
“The hell if I know,” I mutter. Skadi answers back in her trademark Husky talk, giving me a good what-for talking to. I open the bathroom door and narrow a hard look on her. “I know what you want, missy. All you care about is snow.”
She’s already doing the excited tippy-taps and dancing around me as I grab some socks out of my suitcase and head downstairs. I promised her some playtime today, which means I’ll really need to bundle up. Though a hat will just put static into my freshly washed hair and make it frizzy.
Delicious smells waft from the kitchen. Coffee. Bacon. Yum.
My lumberjack is puttering around the stove again, dressed in his uniform of jeans and a buffalo-checked flannel shirt.
This one’s got some white sprinkled into the blue and red pattern and isn’t as thick as the one he wore yesterday.
The softer flannel molds to his shoulders and biceps, already making me drool.
Then he turns around, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and gives me a slow, appreciative once-over. Head to toe and back up to my face.
I’m blushing again and feeling awkward and shy. What does one say after an incredible hookup? Thank you? No, I know. May I have some more, sir?
“You look hungry,” he says, a smile twitching on his lips as if he heard my thoughts. “I hope you don’t mind, but I already took Skadi out for a quick walk this morning.”
Aw. So I can really just sit down and stuff my face without worrying she still needs to go potty. “Not at all. I’m just surprised she went with you.”
“She and I have come to an understanding.” He turns back around with a plate of bacon and another with thick crispy waffles.
He sets both on the island bar, rather than taking them to the table, so I hop up into the high seat, my mouth already watering.
“I provide all the snow and cold she could ever want, and she convinces you to stay. How do you take your coffee?”
“What if I’m a tea girlie?”
“I’d have second thoughts.” He pauses with a heavy ceramic cup in his hand and narrows a hard look on me.
Second thoughts about me? But then he winks and hefts the cup in my direction.
“You’d need a different cup. I don’t have much of a tea selection, but I do have at least English breakfast and Earl Grey if that’s your jam. ”
“I do like tea but not for breakfast. Just some cream or milk if you’ve got it.”
He sets the steaming cup in front of me and grabs a carton of half and half out of the fridge. Then he leans across the island and brushes his lips against mine. “I’ve got everything you need right here, babe.”
My breath catches, my heart skipping a beat. He’s trying so hard. Like he really cares about me.
Skadi yips and he pulls back with a smile. “Plus all the snow you could ever want.”
I’m a little overwhelmed, to be honest. He’s just so damned nice despite his size and deliberate glowers and grumbles.
A glorious hunk. Cooking me breakfast and making everything as easy as possible while still telling me how it is.
A man of few words—so he claims—yet he’s told me already he intends to convince me to stay.
How long, though? Really?
A nice week? How quickly would the shine wear off? A few days? Guests linger like the stench of rotten fish.
Hands braced on the island, he leans there casually, but I can feel him watching me. I keep my eyes on the plate for too long, trying to school my crazy emotions into something less obvious and vulnerable and confused.
His fingers grip my chin, tipping my face up to his. A firm grip, letting me feel the strength and confidence in his hand. Not hurting me—but assuring me of his control. Of the situation. Of himself. Of me, if I’ll let him. “Take all the time you need, babe. I’m here for the long haul, remember?”
I can’t help but test him a little. “Even if I decide to leave today?”
His jaws tighten, his cheek flexing. “I’d wait until this afternoon to let everyone get to the slopes. The pass should be open, but I’ll have Ren lead the way across the mountains in Big Bertha to be safe.”
His competition and friend. “Where will you be?” I ask softly.
A buzzer sounds, so he releases my chin and turns back to the steaming waffle iron.
“Behind your steering wheel if I fit into your vehicle. Or if you’re willing to wait until tomorrow, I’ll have Leland fly us to Vegas, and Ren can drive your car out.
The weather report for the rest of the weekend is clear skies. ”
I’m staring at his broad back, my mouth hanging open. Luckily I manage to gather my wits before he turns back around to deposit another thick waffle on the plate. “You’d go to Vegas? With me?”
His tone rumbles with sleepy seduction. “Try and keep me away, babe.”
“But— You—” I splutter, unable to even complete a sentence. A coherent thought.
Someone knocks on the front door. Giving me a smug grin, beefy arms crossed over his chest, he leans back against the counter and bellows, “Since when do you knock, Ren?”
Skadi barks a welcome—and she actually sounds excited to see him. Traitor.
“Good morning, especially to you, Miss Furry Butt.” Ren gives her some attention and then he’s swinging into the stool beside me. “How’d you sleep, Darby? I should have warned you about the Mighty Zon’s equally mighty snore. Did he keep you up all night?”
Unbothered, Henrik huffs out a low chuckle. “I may have kept her up all night, but I don’t think snoring was the problem.”
“There was snoring?” My cheeks are as hot as the fresh waffle Ren’s stabbing with a fork to haul onto his waiting plate.
“Only a little,” Henrik says, his eyes twinkling. “I barely noticed.”
Oh crap. A man with a sense of humor, gently teasing me.
“What’s on the agenda today?” Ren asks.
Eyebrows raised expectantly, Henrik just stares at me until I shrug. “I’ll probably check in with Kirstin and let her know I’ve been delayed.” But I don’t commit to staying a specific length of time. “She’s probably worried sick.”
The timer buzzes again, so Henrik turns back to the waffle maker. I slather butter on mine and pour on some maple syrup. I’m cutting the waffle up into chunks when he turns back around and slides my phone to me. Aw. It’s even charged.
“I wondered where I left it. Thanks.”
Sure enough, Kirstin has texted me several times, both last night and this morning. I’d sent her a text last night when I got here in one piece, but nothing since. Bad friend. I type a quick note to her.
Sorry, slept in this morning. Everything’s fine. Not sure when I’ll leave here yet.
As soon as I hit send, she calls me. Hopefully I can keep this quick because my mouth is watering, and I don’t want my waffle to get cold. “Hey.”
“Okay.” Kirstin breathes out a sigh of relief. “I just needed to hear your voice and make sure you really are alright. Nothing sketchy’s going on with where you’re staying?”
“Nope, everything’s fine,” I say brightly. Then I take a bite of waffle and moan softly. Crispy on the outside, soft and tender and fluffy on the inside. Rich with butter. Real maple syrup. I mouth, “Yum,” to Henrik. “Sorry, I’m eating breakfast right now. I’ll call you later.”
“Okay, you’re off the hook. For now. Though I do have some news to share.”
I take another thick bite. “Good or bad?”
“I’ll tell you later. I don’t want to ruin your breakfast.”
Ugh. Bad, then. “Something about work?”
“Nope. Eat your breakfast and give me a call when you can talk.”
“Okay. I’ll call in about thirty minutes or so.”
“Sounds good. Bye.”
“Bye.” I hang up, frowning for a moment. Then I glance up at Henrik—who worked so hard to make this incredible breakfast—and Ren beside me, plowing through a triple stack. “Sorry, I normally wouldn’t take a call while we’re trying to eat, but I knew she’d be worried.”
“Now you look worried,” Henrik says. “Is she that concerned about where you are? I can talk to her if that would help.”
“It’s not about you and not about work. So the only thing it could be is something about my ex.”
His lip curls slightly and he crosses his arms over his chest. Suddenly he looks like a mean bodyguard or bouncer at a bar. “What’s his name? I’ll have Lee do a little digging.”
“Maybe we need to take a road trip back to Denver,” Ren adds. “Assuming that’s where he still lives.”
“No, no,” I say quickly, forcing a hopefully bright smile. “He’s not worth the trouble. I’m sure it’s nothing. The last thing I want is either of you getting involved.”
Henrik’s eyes narrow and his chin juts with grim determination but he doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t have to. I can read the message in his body language loud and clear.
The Mighty Zon is not pleased in the slightest.
Thankfully he doesn’t have a clue who Michael is.
Let’s keep it that way.