Chapter Twelve
Noa
I made a nice living.
I had a comfortable apartment.
But I had ten-and-fifteen-year plans to work toward retirement. Because, lord knows, I wouldn’t be able to climb out of a police car window like that in my fifties or sixties.
So while I needed a place to run to in case shit went sideways, I didn’t have the budget for a luxury safe house that was going to sit empty ninety-nine percent of the time.
Which meant that my safe house was in a rural area around Redland, sitting behind several large farms and located on an overgrown plot of land that completely hid the house from view.
If you can call it a house.
That was being pretty generous.
If I were being kind, I might call it a cabin.
But in reality, it was really just a shack.
It was a small one-room shack made of graying wood that likely needed to be replaced. The only luxuries it came with were a septic system and a well.
I’d invested some money to add a solar system that could, theoretically, run the small window air conditioning unit. Though I hadn’t tested that out in practice yet. I was kind of dreading that.
“Should we stop to stock up on some food? We aren’t going to want to be on the road in your car if we can help it.” At my long pause, he studied my profile. “There is a way to cook there, right?”
“There’s a grill out back.”
“Is there a fridge?”
“I put a new one in when I bought the place. But I haven’t checked since. I think it’s safe to assume we can get some food to put in it. If you’re willing to cook it. Otherwise, it’s all salads for us, since that’s the only thing I can reliably make.”
“I can keep us fed,” he assured me as I pulled into a lot at a local market.
Then I just walked alongside the cart as he picked out fruit, vegetables, meat, and some non-perishables.
“What?” he asked, catching me watching him as he loaded up the belt at the checkout.
“I didn’t even know where half that stuff was,” I admitted, waving toward the food. The man even made sure to stop down the coffee aisle to get not only grounds but syrups.
“Spent a lot of time in grocery stores as a kid, trying to figure out how to keep me and my brother fed with as little money as possible.”
I hated that a small version of him was forced into such an adult role. But I loved how effortlessly competent he was as a man. This was not the kind of man who would claim he didn’t know how to properly wash a dish or remember to buy soap before it ran out.
“No, wait,” I called when he walked over to the card terminal. “It’s my house. I’m paying.”
“Absolutely fucking not,” he said, tone casual.
“I like him,” the cashier said, giving me a smile.
I wasn’t going to admit it, but, yeah, I was starting to like him too. Way more than felt right after such a short period of time.
It didn’t hurt that I’d gotten the best nap of my life while asleep on his lap. And it hadn’t escaped me that when I woke up, his fingers were still on my head. Almost like he’d been rubbing my scalp the whole time I’d been asleep.
Just the idea of that, whether it was true or not, made my belly feel all wobbly.
“He even knows how to pack the bags,” the cashier said, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Girl, he’s a keeper.”
“No one likes crushed bread,” Caymen said, shrugging as if that was the most common piece of knowledge ever. Well, I had about five dozen grocery delivery drivers who never got that memo.
“What?” he asked again as we loaded the groceries into the trunk. Well, I stood by and watched because he’d batted my hand away when I tried to help.
“This whole… knowing how to be a functioning adult thing… it’s hot.”
“It’s hot that I know how to load groceries?”
“Absolutely.”
“Then you’re really gonna like my next trick,” he said as he slammed the trunk and then walked the cart all the way back to the rack.
“I’m melting over here,” I said when he got closer, throwing out his arms as if to say Well?
“Standards are in fucking hell these days, huh?” he asked, coming toward me. And for a second, I thought he was going to kiss me. Making my breath catch and my heart seize.
But he was just pulling open my door.
“Keep looking at me like that and the food’s gonna go bad in this heat.”
“Look at you like what?” I asked, forcing my face and voice to go blank.
“Like you’d suck me off while I cooked you dinner.”
Desire was a sucker punch to the gut, stealing my breath and my ability to think, let alone rebut his claim.
Caymen stepped in, his body pressing mine against the car.
My eyes went heavy-lidded.
My lips parted in anticipation.
But then he shot me a knowing smirk.
“As much as I’d love to stand here while you let that fantasy play out in your head, we gotta get off the street.”
Then he stepped back, leaving me leaning against the car. As he rounded the hood, he shot me a look that said he knew exactly what he was doing to me. And, what’s more, he was enjoying the hell out of it.
I slid into my seat, glad for the burst of cool air when I turned the engine over. It wasn’t bad enough that it was a million degrees outside; he had to go and make my insides match.
“There’s a house in here somewhere?” Caymen asked after we’d ditched the car when the overgrowth got too thick, each grabbing a bunch of bags, and starting off on foot.
“Believe it or not.”
“Well, it does seem to be safe. Even we can’t find it,” he said, making my lips quirk up.
“It’s just past that big, gnarled tree.”
“Thank fuck.”
“Don’t get your hopes up,” I reminded him.
“Babe, anything’s better than…” he started, then broke off when the shack came into view, “I take that back.”
The laugh burst out of me at that.
But, damn, he was right.
It looked worse than the last time I’d seen it.
Which could possibly be because I was looking at it through someone else’s eyes this time.
Or simply because the time away meant that a bunch of vines had started to climb up the house, tracing the wood like veins, and even growing across the actual door.
“You sure this place is functioning?” Caymen asked. He transferred all his bags with one hand to reach out with the other and tear the vines out of the way.
“Let’s hope.”
“Key?”
“One sec,” I said.
I put down my bags and walked over to the nearest tree, jumping up at the birdhouse, hoping I wasn’t disturbing any babies inside, and reached in to find the key dangling from a hook inside.
“Clever.”
“Aren’t I?” I asked, handing it over.
Thankfully, the inside of the shack was how I’d left it. Which wasn’t, you know, great, but nothing had moved in or taken over inside.
“Christ, it’s blistering in here,” I said, making a beeline for the air conditioner as Caymen went to check the fridge. “Oh, thank God,” I said when the unit turned right on.
“This is working too,” Caymen told me, immediately rushing to put the meat away. Then the veggies and fruit. Before finally turning to take in the place.
“I mean… I wouldn’t wanna live here, but it’s got a roughing-it vibe to it.”
He wasn’t wrong.
I’d actually found it kind of charming when I’d first come across it. Everything all in one space. Not too much maintenance. If I actually put any work into it, it would have been kind of cute.
As it was, it had plain walls, a full-sized bed with a metal frame, a small seating area, but with wood furniture—nothing cushioned—a table and chairs, and the little strip for the kitchen.
The only closed-off space was a minuscule bathroom with a shower I got a little claustrophobic thinking about, but it would do in a pinch.
“How the fuck you gonna sleep on a bed left in an un-air-conditioned house in Florida humidity?” he asked, zeroing in on it.
“The waterproof cover is doing some heavy lifting. But it’s actually a polymer mattress. You know, those grid-like ones you see on commercials? They hold up a lot better since they’re not fabric.”
He nodded at that.
“And the bedding is all in an airtight container jam-packed full of moisture absorbers. This might be the kind of place I stay in an emergency, but I’m not sleeping on musty, moldy bedding. No reception?” I asked as he pulled out his phone and started waving it around.
“It’s spotty. If I type it out and hold it up, I should be able to get it to go through. Just wanna tell Huck that we’re here. And that the reception might suck.”
“You should send him the address, just in case they need us but can’t call.”
“On it,” he agreed.
“Well, while you’re on that, I’m going to shower this day off,” I said, grabbing two of my bags and heading into the bathroom.
I set my toiletries in the shower, picked out a lightweight outfit in case the window unit wasn’t enough to keep the place at the glacial temperature I preferred, and stripped.
As I soaped up and washed the sweat and dirt off my skin, some part of me kept hoping that Caymen would barge in, would take off his own clothes, would climb into the shower stall with me and relieve the tension that had been bubbling in my system since I’d first climbed on that bike with him.
Realistically, I knew the both of us would never fit. But a girl could dream.
By the time I toweled off and got dressed in flowing, lightweight sundress in a soft creamy color that was a little uncharacteristic for me.
I usually dressed for practicality or to be taken seriously.
But I’d purchased it during my last little mini relationship for date nights that never really happened.
I didn’t bother with a bra because, well, it was hot. And also… I was totally okay with Caymen noticing.
And notice he did.
The second I stepped out of the bathroom, his head swiveled. Then he did a slow, thorough examination, lingering a bit longer than necessary on my chest.
“Feel better?” he asked.
“So much. Did you… clean?”
“Washed off all the plates and cups, so we have something to eat and drink with. Set up the water filter and put some water in the fridge to chill. Took the cover off the bed and put the sheets on.”
“How long was I in there?”