Chapter 10
TEN
CAMERON
I’m making tea in the farmhouse when I hear the fire alarm in the cabin go off.
I don’t think.
I just run.
By the time I reach the cabin, I’m half expecting the place to be up in flames. It’s not, but I can hear the fire alarm screaming inside, and the clatter of metal. I unlock the door and kick it open.
Summer is standing by the stove, staring in horror at a flaming pan of eggs. I grab her by the waist and shove her out of the way.
“Cameron!” she shouts. “I don’t know what happened—”
“Move,” I order, grabbing the fire extinguisher from under the sink. I twist the nozzle and spray it over the charred mess. White foam erupts over the pan and sizzles. I open the window to let the smoke out and then reach up to switch off the alarm.
For a few moments, silence rings through the cabin. We both stare at the remains of her food.
I turn to Summer slowly. “Seriously?” I ask. “You’ve never made eggs before?”
What is she, a child? What grown adult can’t fry an egg?
“I’m so sorry.” Her face is tomato-red. “It was an accident, I got distracted. Here, let me clean this up—”
She reaches for the pan, and I bat her out of the way, catching sight of her palms. They both have a red welt across them. “You burned yourself.”
She looks down. “Oh. Yes. I guess when I was trying to take the pan off the stove—”
I shunt her over to the sink, turn the tap on full blast, and shove both of her hands under the icy stream.
She quivers against me. “Um, you really don’t have to—”
“Stay. You need to get the heat out.”
She goes still. I hold her steady, my grip tight on her wrists to keep her hands under the tap. The wee jewels on her nails sparkle at me under the water.
For a few long minutes, neither of us moves.
My knee burns from the sudden run, pain shooting down to my foot.
I feel Summer breathe against me. Her hair tickles my face, filling my nose with her sweet vanilla scent.
She’s put the shimmer on her lips again.
Which makes no sense. Why would you put the shimmer on if you’re about to eat? It’d just wipe off.
As adrenaline leaches out of me, I become more and more aware of her. I can see the swell of her chest rising and falling rapidly in her little lacy top thing. I grit my teeth.
I don’t like Summer. She’s messy, a liar, and apparently completely incapable of taking care of herself.
Still. I can feel my body reacting to being pressed up against her like this. My jeans are suddenly too tight. As I turn her hands under the tap, I notice a shiny white scar stretching up her forearm. It’s a surgery scar, faded with time. Without thinking, I touch my thumb to it.
“Um,” Summer says, shivering all over. “I think I have frostbite.”
I turn off the tap and step back. She crosses her arms over her chest and offers me an awkward smile. “You know,” she says. “That was pretty heroic. You kicking in the door like that.” She flashes me a hopeful smile.
My insides harden. She’s doing it again. Flirting. Trying to make me like her. It won’t work. “Don’t touch the stove,” I order. “I’ll bring you something to eat.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”
As if on cue, I hear her stomach rumble. Her cheeks flush.
“Stay. Here.” I pick up the destroyed pan and head for the door. Fraser’s voice echoes in my head.
Ooh. Getting under your skin, is she?
I step out into the cold night air and slam the door behind me.
Summer isn’t getting under my skin. I’m just making sure she doesn’t starve on my watch, since she clearly can’t manage to feed herself. I readjust my jeans as I stomp back up to the farmhouse.
This week can’t end fast enough.