Chapter 11
Olivia stared out the frosted window pane to the swirling scene beyond.
Somewhere out there was her life, the people who knew her and the things she cared about.
Had anyone even realized she was missing?
Did she have family and friends concerned about her whereabouts, or was she as lonely in her forgotten life as she was in this limbo?
At least there was Trevor, though she sensed he was lying to her about his real reason for being here. She’d seen the way he was limping and knew he must be in considerable pain, so why venture out on foot?
Maybe his friend was a woman. A lover. The thought made her uncomfortable.
But why shouldn’t he have a lover? He was nothing to her, not even a friend.
She pulled the sweater she’d found tighter around herself, the cut and style just slightly too small.
It was cold in the cabin despite the fire, and she wondered if he would suggest they sleep together for warmth as they had done the night before.
Surely it must have been for warmth.
She felt her cheeks flush. She might not remember the woman in the mirror, but she certainly remembered the pull between a woman and man, and there was one hell of a pull between them.
When they kissed, desire had spread through her like fire through dry kindling. She got so aroused, so quickly, she was shocked by her own reaction. Just thinking about it made her body come alive.
But she couldn’t have affected him the same way. It was clear he wanted to get out of the cabin at the earliest opportunity, and it was his guilt over the accident that required him to stay. In her current state, she didn’t care what kept him here, as long as something did.
Olivia sighed heavily and opened a cupboard, staring at cans of soup but seeing only Hawk’s face inches from her own. She forced her eyes open wide. “Soup. Pick a can of soup, Livy.”
She opened drawers and dusty cupboards, finding a can opener and pot and setting the soup on high. No one had been in this house in a long time, that was certain. She washed her hands, wondering when Trevor — Hawk — would be back.
It was an appropriate nickname for the man. He paid attention. He’d caught her reference to the “all-but deserted mountaintop” before she caught it herself.
How the hell did I know that?
The hair on the back of her neck went up. Had she been in this area before? Did she live somewhere nearby? This remote location must be familiar to her in some way if she was making comments like that, yet nothing in this place seemed familiar at all.
She dried her hands on a dusty and yellowed towel, throwing it in the direction of the counter with a grimace. This cabin would be so nice if someone just gave it a once-over.
There were hardwood floors and high ceilings and strips of leaded glass in the windows, but any character it might have had was overshadowed by neglect.
Even the slightest bit of housekeeping would go a long way, and it would give her something to do besides look in the mirror and feel like she was losing her mind.
She began looking for cleaning supplies. Finding none, she wandered around until she discovered a broom closet near where she and Trevor kissed. She rested her head against the doorjamb, remembering the way his mouth had overpowered hers, lust coming quickly through her bloodstream like a drug.
It was a good thing he’d pulled away, because she’d been so caught up in her own fierce reaction to his kisses she’d wanted to ride that wave all the way onto the seashore.
That was truly frightening. It was like an override switch on good judgment had been thrown the moment his lips melded with hers.
And they were stuck here — alone together — for the foreseeable future.
I made sure of that, didn’t I?
The distinct smell of smoke made her head turn sharply, the nearly forgotten headache slamming into her skull with the motion. She ran back to the kitchen.
There, on the stovetop, was the yellowed kitchen towel, on fire.
Without thinking, Olivia threw open a slender cupboard next to the range hood, knocked sugar and salt and spices out of the way, and withdrew a small fire extinguisher.
She pulled the safety pin and sprayed the flames until nothing remained but the charred towel, covered in foam.
Her heart pounded.
She looked at the extinguisher in her hand as if it was a bloodied knife.
Her earlier words came back to her. …all-but-deserted mountaintop…
“Oh my God. Oh my God,” she chanted, her eyes jumping from the table to the refrigerator to the cupboard where she’d found the fire extinguisher.
Her mind was playing tricks on her, keeping secrets while she desperately needed the truth. “If you know this place, you’d better tell me now,” she said to herself. “No more of this amnesia bullshit, Olivia.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, willing her memories back into place, but none came.
She opened her eyes. If she knew what was in one cabinet, maybe she knew what was in another.
Her gaze went to the cupboard over the refrigerator, and she exhaled a shaky breath.
“Pitchers, a big blue platter, baskets,” she whispered, reaching for the handle as if it might be hot and burn her.
A ceramic blue platter.
Several baskets.
She moved them out of the way with shaking fingers. Two drink pitchers stood in the back of the cabinet.
Son of a bitch.
Trevor called from the great room. “Olivia?”
She slammed the cupboard door as he walked into the kitchen. “What?”
“Is something burning?”
“Not anymore.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I thought you left.”
He narrowed his eyes. “The snowshoes don’t fit right. I need some string or something.” He moved to the stove. “What happened?”
“Just a little fire. It’s okay.” She waved her hand. “I accidentally put a kitchen towel on a hot burner.”
“Is that foam from a fire extinguisher?”
She nodded. “Yep. Lucky thing I found it.”
He leaned against the counter, and she wanted to lean into him, to take from his strength and release her own weakness.
He could take that from her, hold her up when everything she knew was falling backwards.
She took a step back, noting the disappointment in his eyes and suspecting it matched her own.
“You okay?” he asked.
She longed to tell him the truth, confide in him that she’d clearly been here before and knew this place on some level.
But hadn’t he only agreed to stay with her because of her memory loss?
She was helpless, and he was clearly a helper.
If her memory returned, he’d be gone faster than she could say run.
No, she would keep this new discovery to herself, at least until there was something more important to share than baskets and a fire extinguisher. “I’m fine. Just a little freaked out by the fire.”
“I don’t blame you. It’s all right now.” He gestured toward the hallway. “I’m going to go look in the garage. I think I saw some twine in there.”
“Good luck.” She watched as he turned and walked away, confident she’d made the right decision.