Chapter Three
Loralei
The entire way to Ash's cabin, I steal glances at him, trying to decide if I was crushed by a tree falling on my car, if I got hit by a car trying to walk to safety, or if I got struck by lightning.
As far as I can figure, it had to be one of the three, because nowhere outside of books does a librarian get rescued by the rockstar of her dreams. So either I'm the luckiest librarian on the planet—three times over since I escaped death twice today, too—or I'm actually dead, and this is all happening in some weird version of heaven.
I haven't made up my mind on which is most plausible before his GPS tells him to take the next right. I don't even see the turn before we're on top of the gravel path leading deep into the woods.
He idles just off the roadway, looking over at me. "You ever been out here before?"
"Yes."
"Is there actually a cabin out there, or are we going to get stranded in the middle of BFE with no way out?"
"There's a cabin," I whisper, my teeth still chattering. Even with the heat blasting, I can't seem to get warm again. "It belongs to the Brothers in Arms. They rent it out sometimes."
One dark eyebrow lifts toward his hairline. "Brothers in Arms?"
"The MC."
"MC." He processes this and then mutters a curse. "You mean a motorcycle club?"
"Yeah."
"Jesus Christ." He peers into the woods, looking a little like he's thinking about turning around.
"They're not that kind of MC," I say softly.
"They're mostly former military, federal agents, and cops.
They help people." When law enforcement needs to hide someone before a trial, or a woman needs help disappearing, they call the MC.
Very few people around town know what they do.
Those of us who do know don't make a habit of talking about them.
I only know as much as I do because I sometimes deliver books to their ranch for the women and kids who stay there.
Ash doesn't look entirely convinced, but he slowly lets off the brake, easing the SUV forward down the dirt path.
It's so narrow, branches scrape the sides as we pass through the trees.
But after about a mile, the path widens into a clearing, with the cabin at the far side, nestled on the banks of the creek.
It's bigger than most of the cabins around here, made more for actual living than rustic off-grid survival.
The MC mostly uses it as a source of income.
I guess when you don't get paid to be heroes, you have to diversify somehow.
Checkered curtains hang in the windows, and there are rocking chairs on the massive porch.
"Not bad," Ash mutters, almost like he's surprised.
Has he not seen it before?
I decide not to ask. It's not really my business, and I don't want to pry. He's been quiet since I told him that I know who he is. If this is reality and not some coma or death dream, I'd prefer not to come across like some crazed fangirl.
I'm guessing he gets enough of that already. And truthfully? He seems…different in reality. On camera, he's always smiling, always laughing, always playful. He hasn't done much of that today. He's quieter, more reserved.
There are deep shadows under his eyes that say he hasn't been sleeping much, and lines around his mouth that his beard doesn't hide.
He's even more beautiful up close and in person, don't get me wrong.
The cameras never get the exact shade of his eyes right.
They're this mix between sky and midnight blue, as if an artist mixed shades and his eyes were the result.
He's also bigger than I always thought he'd be, taller, more muscular.
"Come on," he says, pulling to a stop in front of the cabin. "Let's get you inside and get you warm."
"I…um…" It only just dawned on me at this exact moment that I'm going inside his cabin with him. Alone.
Gulp.
"I don't bite, Loralei," he says, a teasing smirk on his lips.
I duck my head, avoiding his gaze. He probably thinks I'm a disaster. Awesome.
I hope I never need rescuing again. It's entirely too much work.
I reluctantly slide from the SUV, grimacing when I'm immediately pelted with frigid rain again. By the time I make it the few feet to the covered porch, I'm soaked to the skin again, and even colder than before.
Ash grabs a duffle and a couple of shopping bags from the back of the SUV and then rushes up the steps after me, shaking water from his overly long, dark hair.
If he's bothered by the rain, he doesn't show it.
He just stomps mud from his boots and hurries to the door, unlocking and then holding it open for me.
My body brushes against his as I pass by.
I try to hide the way I shiver, but it's impossible.
If he notices, he doesn't say anything, though.
He just follows me inside, dropping his bag right inside the door.
He tosses the shopping bags on the coffee table and then hits the light switch, flooding the room with light.
The cabin is nice, with dark, comfortable furniture, plush rugs, and plenty of space. Tiny dust motes hover in the air, as if it hasn't been used in a while, but it smells fresh and clean. Windows along the back overlook the creek.
Ash immediately heads down the hall on the left, poking his head into the first room on the right before going into the one on the left. He materializes a second later with a towel slung over his shoulders and another in his hands.
"Here," he murmurs, stepping up in front of me to wrap it around me. His hand brushes my shoulder in the process, and another shiver rips through me. He definitely notices this time. His eyes tangle with mine, this look in them that says he isn't quite sure what to make of me.
I want to tell him I feel the same damn way. This isn't what I expected of the day. I'm still not even convinced this is reality. But with him standing in front of me, it's hard to believe this is anything else.
Ash Kilborne is staring into my eyes right now.
He's touching my shoulder.
What is even happening right now?
"Loralei," he says…whispers, really.
I don't know why I sway toward him. I don't even recognize the soft, needy sound I make.
It's like I'm in one of my dreams, where he's in my room, telling me he can't live without me.
My whole freaking soul wants to reenact that right this second and fling myself at him the same way I do when my sleeping mind conjures him up.
Except…I'm more sure than ever that this is reality. And in reality, I've never been that girl—the one who just throws herself at anyone. I don't even know how to be that girl.
"I…um…bathroom," I mumble, rushing around him before I say or do something I'll absolutely regret, like, 'please fuck me on that fancy rug right there.'
I practically catapult myself through the bathroom door, slamming it closed behind me. My back lands against it, my breath a ragged pant in my throat. I bury my face in the towel, groaning to myself.
My face is on fire, my heart beating a million miles a minute.
Did I seriously just flee from Ash Kilborne? Yes, yes, I did.
"What the fuck, Loralei? What the actual fuck?"
I drag the towel down, meeting my wide-eyed gaze in the mirror. I look like a drowned rat. A pale, shivering, oversized drowned rat. And my whole bra is visible through my shirt.
"Awesome," I growl, furiously drying myself with the towel.
Not that it helps much. There is no helping this.
Absolutely none at all. I just met my idol looking like I'm auditioning to be the girl who crawls out of the TV in that one horror movie that scared the ever-living shit out of literally everyone.
Jazz is going to love this.
Fifteen minutes later, I'm still stalling in the bathroom when Ash knocks on the door.
I freeze before spinning that way. For a split second, I contemplate shoving myself through the tiny window and disappearing into the storm. I can be a figment of his imagination, something conjured up by stress or exhaustion or whatever it is that brought him to a cabin in the middle of nowhere.
"I'll be right out," I say instead.
"I've got dry clothes for you," he calls through the door. "And I found the dryer. If you'll pass yours out, I'll put them in for you."
I strip at lightning speed. At least until I get to my bra and panties, and then I hesitate. Do I really want Ash to have his hands all over my mismatched bra and panties?
Why is that even a question?
I strip out of them, dropping them onto the pile with the rest of my clothes. At the last second, I shove them between the shirt and skirt, trying to hide them. Mostly because I might die if he sees the label and realizes panties come in that particular size.
If the press is to be believes, he's used to dating models who have never been more than a zero in their lives. My panties ate a zero.
I'm not ashamed of who I am or my body. I work out. I eat as well as I can. It is what it is. That does not mean I want one of the biggest rockstars in the country to know what size panties I wear, either.
"Here," I say, shoving the pile through the tiniest crack in the door while trying to hide behind it at the same time.
He grabs my pile and hands me a dry one, but before I can close the door, his foot is wedged between it and the jamb, stopping me. "Is everything okay in there?"
"Yes, fine." I push against the door, trying to close it on him. "Just trying to dry off."
"Feel free to use whatever you need. You're welcome to anything while you're here," he says, his gruff voice soft.
"Thanks." I nudge the door again, but it still doesn't budge.
He's just standing there, like he's waiting for me to say something, and I have no idea what I'm supposed to say. Come fuck me right now isn't an option, right?
Right.
"Um…"
"Oh. Shit." He yanks his foot away so fast, I pitch forward, accidentally slamming the door in his face.
"Jesus Christ," I groan, resting my forehead against it. "Could you possibly be more awkward, Loralei?"
"Sorry!" he shouts through it, laughter in his voice. He heard me. Awesome.
I dress slowly in the t-shirt and sweats he brought me, trying to forestall the inevitable for as long as possible. I have to do it eventually, though, right? I can't hide out in the bathroom forever.
Why is he hiding out? No one just rents a cabin in the middle of nowhere for no reason. Last I heard, his band was working on music for their next album. They're supposed to be in the studio.
Clearly, I heard wrong.
I run my fingers through my hair, trying to tame it, and then step out into the hall. Rain is still coming down in sheets outside, falling loudly on the tin roof. But it feels a lot safer in here than it did out there.
Did I really almost get smashed by a falling tree today?
I hurry down the hall, not prepared to think about that right now, only to stop in the living room when I spot Ash kneeling in front of the fireplace, carefully placing logs. He's changed into a faded blue t-shirt that stretches across his muscular back and a pair of black sweats.
"Hey," he says, turning to look at me. "I started a fire. Figured you might still be cold."
"I…thank you," I whisper, my heart twinging. "Um, for everything."
He shoots me a tiny smile, dusting his hands off before rising gracefully to his feet. His gaze drifts down my body. "They fit you."
"Yes. Um, thank you. Again."
"Looks better on you than they do on me."
My cheeks heat.
"You hungry?" He nods toward the coffee table before I can even process the comment. "I cut up some fruit and cheese. It's not much, but I thought…" he trails off awkwardly, clearing his throat.
I gape at him for a long moment, caught off guard. He seems nervous, like he doesn't know what to say or do now that I'm in his space, wearing his clothes. And then realization dawns.
"I promise, I won't tell anyone that you're here or that you helped me," I blurt. "And as soon as the storm passes, I'll get out of your way."
He stares at me for a long silent moment. "Who says you're in my way, Loralei?"
"I…I…."
His lips curve, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "It's all good, baby. I'm not worried about it."
Ash Kilborne just called me baby.
That settles it. This is definitely not reality. This is way better than that.
"Come on," he says, holding out a hand to me. "Come eat."
I glance at his hand for a split second before slipping mine into his, my heart beating like a freaking war drum.