CHAPTER 20
Phoebe
I understand that I can’t allow myself to freak out. But I’m wondering which part I shouldn’t freak out about first?
The part about how Evander spent over two hours pressing my naked body to his naked body so that I didn’t die? Because that goes way beyond the ‘seeing me naked’ thing I was so worried about just moments ago.
I can barely resist hiding my embarrassed face in his sweater.
Or the part about how much snow is already out there. How crazy the winds are. And how the temperature is still plummeting.
It’s terrifying.
How about the part about how the snow accumulation could cause the roof to collapse? How Evander must keep climbing up there to rake away whatever the wind can’t blow. Which is all completely safe, I’m sure!
“I know it’s a lot to take in. But I figured you should know what we’re facing.”
I nod, finishing up the chocolate drink, and handing him the empty mug. It really did hit the spot. I’m feeling better.
When Evander reaches out to set the cup on a nearby side table, I can’t help but appreciate how easy he moves, how his big body twists and extends, like it’s nothing.
I bet that body of his could do whatever the situation calls for. Raking snow from the roof in hurricane-force winds. Hanging plastic and starting fires. Making wild, passionate love to me until I beg him to stop.
Like that would ever happen.
He faces me again, catching me staring. He pretends he doesn’t. He’s such a gentleman. I’m such a doofus.
“The takeaway here,” he says, as if he hadn’t just caught me undressing him with my eyes. “Is that nobody will be looking for us. We’re on our own. At least until the wind and snow subside. I’m hoping it will blow over by tomorrow and then Declan can fly the chopper out to find us.”
“I understand.”
“Now, are you ready for some good news?”
“Sure. Lay it on me.”
Evander smiles. Seriously, he needs to stop doing that.
If I go all wobbly-kneed at the sight of the standard-issue grumpy and reserved Evander MacLaine in his pristine suit and perfect hair, what am I going to do with this new and improved version?
The man with messy dark curls who’s wearing nothing but thermal underwear.
The one who promises to keep me safe. Tells me I need to trust him. That he’s in charge. And then minutes later hits me with a white, wide, ridiculously attractive grin?
I’m toast.
Actually, I could go for some toast right now. That’s not an option, of course. But at least I still have an appetite under the nausea. That’s a good sign.
An appetite for toast and an appetite for Evander. I’m pretty much back to normal.
“I’ve already taken inventory of our supplies, both what was packed in my ATV storage locker and what I found here.”
“Uh, where is here, exactly?”
“I have no idea, exactly, and I won’t until my satellite positioning starts working again. But I found papers in a drawer that indicate this is a Bureau of Land Management surveyor’s shack, used as recently as this fall. We’re on federal land. Luckily, they left behind some usable stuff.”
“That is good news.”
Evander looks at me thoughtfully, like he’s trying to figure me out. Which is ridiculous. I’m an open book. I always have been.
Except for my shameless tendency to fantasize about him, a character flaw I’ll keep to myself. Like how I picture him reacting when he sees me in my fancy red velvet dress. Or how it would feel to have him on top of me, inside me.
I squeeze my thighs together under the blankets. Oh, great. I hope he didn’t notice that. Which makes me realize that soon, I’m going to have to pee. How’s that going to work?
“Yeah, so the outhouse is a no-go,” he says, reading my mind.
Maybe I really am an open book. When he’s the one doing the reading, anyway.
“I didn’t even know there was an outhouse. But why can’t I use it?”
He nods slowly. “Well, once I removed all the firewood stored inside, snow filled in the void. But even if it wasn't already buried in a drift, it would be too cold for you to go out there.”
“Oh.”
“You need to stay inside. The last thing you need is to lower your body temperature again.”
“Okay.”
“I’ve set something up for you in the back room behind a curtain. It’s not the executive suite at The Peninsula, but it will get the job done.”
“Peninsula of what?”
He smiles. “Of where, which is London. The Peninsula is the five-star hotel I prefer whenever I stay in the city for business. I just got back from London this morning.”
“This morning?” I’m confused. Then shocked. “Wait. What time is it?”
“About eleven.”
He’s right. It was just this morning that he rescued me from the slick ice of Main Street. Not to be confused with the afternoon’s cracked ice in the middle of nowhere.
“So back to the good news,” he says. “Luckily, I packed more than I thought I’d need for a short trip.
So combined with everything I’ve found around the property, I am happy to say that we’ve got a shotgun and shells, traps, a chainsaw, an axe, duct tape, one more plastic tarp, and plenty of nylon rope. ”
I blink a few times, taking it all in. “So, you’re either a Navy SEAL or a serial killer.”
He stares at me for a second, his brow wrinkled.
I can’t believe I just said that. I need more sleep. My filter evaporates when I’m this tired, and I usually end up saying something that I’ll regret later. Or regret immediately. Like now.
But Evander tips his head back and laughs. “I’ll have to remember that one,” he says. “There’s some overlap between those two data points, not gonna lie.”
I pull the blankets tight around my head and shrink myself as small as possible.
“I found a snow rake, snow shovel, and a square-nosed shovel outside. Whoever was here last left a sizeable amount of kerosene oil in a cupboard. I brought a spare parka, snowshoes and ice cleats, extra batteries and two lanterns, a headlamp and a lighter, a very well-stocked first-aid kit, wet wipes and soap, and three remaining emergency heat packs. I’ve split all the wood I found—enough to last us a few more days at these temperatures. But it’s burning fast and hot.”
Fast and hot.
Stop it, Phoebe!
I’m about to tell him how great all this is, but apparently, Chatty Evander has even more he wants to share. I’m starting to think he’s actually pumped about facing a natural disaster.
This is definitely a SEAL thing.
“As far as food goes, we’ve got six protein bars, four ready-to-eat meals, two cans of green beans, and six cans of Beefaroni, most of which are only slightly expired.”
“What do you mean by ‘slightly’?”
“Within a year, give or take.”
“Which one is it? Giving or taking?”
“Giving.”
I sigh.
“The cans are intact, though, no dents or rust or swelling, so the contents haven’t been compromised from freezing and thawing.”
I try to look enthusiastic, though the thought of eating freeze-dried camping food or expired canned macaroni makes me even queasier. Not that I don’t appreciate everything Evander knows about pantry safety. I do. He seems to know a lot about a lot of different things.
I find that very sexy in a man. Especially a man who was already sexy before canned goods entered the chat.
Phoebe!
When Evander stands to put another log on the fire, I’m surprised to feel anger rising in my throat.
I’m so pissed off that I feel like I’m on the verge of tears.
Because inside my ATV trunk locker was enough food, clothes, and supplies to last weeks!
But now everything’s at the bottom of an icy pond.
Or river or whatever it was. Useless. Ruined. Wasted.
Evander turns and looks down at me.
“What is it, Phoebe?”
“I’m suddenly very tired,” I admit. “I worked a double shift and then stayed late for the pediatric Christmas party and then, well, there was the whole falling through the ice thing.”
“Do you want something to eat first?”
“I could really go for a bowl of crunchy cinnamon cereal in two-percent organic milk.”
“Expired Beefaroni it is.”
I smile at him and almost laugh, but I really am exhausted. “I think I need rest more than food.”
“Of course.” Evander turns to the clothesline he’s strung by the fireplace. He grabs all my clothes and walks back to me with his arms full. “Bundle up in whatever will keep you warm and comfortable. Feel free to use the facilities while I set up our bed by the fire.”
Our bed.
He says it so matter-of-factly. Like it’s no big thing. Like we’re an old married couple whose shared the same bed for the last forty years.
“I’ll turn away while you step out of the blankets,” he says.
“Pffft.” I stand up, the old wool falling away from my bare legs. “Kinda late for modesty, wouldn’t you say? Trade you.”
I hold out the edge of the blankets to him before I take the clothes from his arms. Then I turn away. My plan is to walk toward the back room, as if I don’t care that he’s staring at my thighs and calves.
Let him look. I’m an adult woman. A woman who’s unashamed of the thoroughly sensual being she’s become.
Only one problem—now that I’m facing away from the firelight, I’m as blind as a mole rat.
“You might want to take this.” Evander reaches over my shoulder and holds the battery-operated lantern by its thin aluminum handle.
“Thank you.” I snatch it from him.
“I need to finish cleaning off the roof.”
“Sounds good,” I say, still facing away from him.
It’s a horrible lie, since it doesn’t sound good at all. I get it. He’s explained the safety concern, and I know why he has to do it. But I don’t have to like that he’s doing it.
“See you in a bit, Phoebe.”
I turn in time to see him disappear behind the plastic tarp.