Chapter Six
Loralei
"Shoot," I whisper, my body freezing like a deer in the headlights when the front door creaks unnaturally loud as soon as I open it. I strain in the predawn light, listening for any hint that Ash heard the sound, but save for the crackle of the logs on the fire, the cabin is silent.
I exhale a tiny breath and slip out onto the porch. I cringe when I close the door, and it creaks again. Did Ash hear it that time? I don't know.
I also don't plan to stick around long enough to find out.
For the record, I'm not running. I'm self-rescuing.
There's a difference. I fully intend to come back.
I'd just like to do it after I get help.
You know, before we have to have the awkward conversation about how I can never tell anyone what happened last night.
Last night was the best night of my life—aside from the nearly dying part, anyway.
I'd really like to hang onto the memory for a little longer before we ruin it with a painfully awkward conversation about how it was only a one-time thing, how I can't ever tell anyone, or, worse, with discussions of NDAs and whatever else rockstars demand after coming all over you on the floor of a rented cabin.
I'm sure there are rules for things like this. I'd rather not know them right now.
Frankly, I'd rather not know them at all. I want last night to be a great memory, one not tainted by whatever logistical conversation needs to happen now. But I'm enough of a realist to know that's probably not a desire rooted in reality.
He's a freaking rock God, and I'm a nerdy librarian. He's supposed to be with someone rich and famous who gives him more star power and perfect photo ops. I'll never be that, even if he did say he wanted to keep me.
I troop down the steps, my head tucked against the wind, and then scurry past his SUV, heading across the clearing.
The sun is just cresting the horizon, so there's a little light—enough for me to see, anyway.
The storm left branches, leaves, and twigs all over the property.
It looks a little like a war zone, if the enemy was Mother Nature.
When I reach the treeline, I pause, glancing back at the cabin.
It looks softer in the inky morning light, a lot like the haven it was last night, instead of a remote cabin isolated miles from town.
Part of me—a big part—wants to run back, climb back into my bed, and pretend I was never out here.
But then I remember the way Ash buried his face in my throat and whispered that he wants to keep me, and my heart clenches.
I want to hang onto that memory for as long as possible. When I'm alone in my own bed at night, I want to drag it back out and remind myself that, for one bright, shining moment, I knew what perfection felt like.
Am I being a coward, trying to get myself rescued before the aforementioned awkward conversation has to happen? Yes, absolutely. Am I willing to live with that? Also, absolutely.
I was a coward last night, too. He wanted to sleep with me, not get me off, but fuck me.
And I just…panicked a little. Not because I didn't want to, but because I was freaking worried that if we actually went that far, I'd never be able to leave today.
I was afraid I'd turn into a miserable facsimile of myself…
one who probably burst into tears every time I heard him on the radio.
The funniest part? I think I might turn into her anyway. I haven't even left yet, and I already miss him. I already don't want to go. I already don't want to go back to the reality where he doesn't even know I exist, and the only things I know about him are what gossip sites print.
I should have slept with him.
"Too late now," I mutter, reluctantly turning away from the cabin to begin the long trek down to the main road.
I stick to the very center of the path as much as possible, trying to avoid the worst of the mud from rain accumulating in tire tracks along the sides, but by the time I'm halfway there, the sun is up, my shoes are an earthy, muddy brown, and my feet are wet.
I make it all the way to the roadway before I stop, partly because I'm wheezing for breath, and partly because there is no tree blocking the way.
"What the fuck?" I turn, peering back down the path. There's no way I missed a tree blocking the path. There's one way in and out. I would have seen it, right? "Maybe it's actually on the main road?"
I step out from beneath the trees, peering as far down the road as I can see, but there's no downed tree blocking the way. There are plenty of leaves and smaller branches that have been blown all over the place, but there's nothing that even indicates a tree was down at any point last night.
I know I didn't imagine him saying he didn't even make it as far as the main road because of a downed tree. He didn't say it was on the main road or somewhere down the main road. I'm positive he said it was half a mile up the path before the main road.
"What the fuck? Did he lie to me?" I mumble, trying to wrap my mind around the possibility.
"Don't be mad."
A startled scream erupts from my lips before I can stop it.
I spin around, my hand over my heart, to see Ash standing beneath the trees alongside the path, his hands in his pockets.
His hair is a mess, a pillow crease across one cheek.
He's wearing a Midnight Mayhem t-shirt, with mud splattered along the bottom of his sweats.
Somehow, there's far less of it on him than there is on me.
"There's no tree."
"I can explain," he says, looking like a little boy who knows he's in trouble.
"You can explain," I repeat, crossing my arms. "There's no tree, Ash. How can you possibly explain that?"
"I lied."
I stare at him levelly, unsure if I'm pissed or not. Not entirely sure what's going on. "You lied?"
He nods, swallowing nervously. "For the first time last night, I felt…
good. Normal. You didn't look at me like you wanted anything from me or expect anything from me.
You didn't treat me like a celebrity or ask me a million questions.
It was…nice," he murmurs, taking a step toward me. "It was really fucking nice, Loralei."
"So you lied about being stranded because I made you feel normal?" I blink at him, not entirely sure how we've gone from me being the neurotic person here to, well…this. "That's not rational, Ash."
"I know." He grimaces, taking another step toward me. "But as soon as it stopped raining, you were ready to go. I wanted you to stay, so I made up the tree."
And I'm back to thinking maybe this isn't reality. At least, it's no reality I'm familiar with. Because, in my world, rockstars don't lie just because they want to spend more time with me. Rockstars don't want to spend more time with me, period.
"Don't be mad," he says again. "I'll take you wherever you want to go if you want to leave. I just…" He stalks toward me, stark lines of anxiety painted across his face. "I wanted you to stay."
I'm not mad. Honestly, I think I feel…bad for him, maybe?
How lonely is his life that he faked us being stranded just to spend time with a small-town librarian?
A lot lonelier than mine, I think. And that's fucking sad.
He's one of the most well-known men in the world…
and he's happier in a damn cabin in the woods with me than he is living his fancy, fabulous life.
All this time, I've been thinking that we're worlds apart. But maybe we aren't so different, after all.
"I'm not mad," I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose when he's standing in front of me, looking like he's torn between snatching me up to hold me hostage and begging me to stay. "But did you ever consider just asking me to stay?"
He seems surprised by the question, and then he laughs a little, the sound rueful. "Would you believe me if I told you that the thought never crossed my mind?"
I tip my head to the side, studying him. "Why not?"
"You were so eager to go." He shrugs. "Guess I just assumed you were desperate to get the fuck out of there."
"I wasn't," I whisper. "I…" Gotta say, listening to his confessions is way better than making my own. "Maybe I was just nervous I'd say or do the wrong thing and embarrass myself."
"Nothing about you is embarrassing, Loralei."
"Ask me what I was listening to on my way out there."
A tiny smile plays at his lips. "You're going to say Midnight Mayhem, aren't you?"
"Yep. I, um…Jesus." I hide behind my hands. "Maybe you'll be glad to be rid of me after I say this, but since we're having confession hour, I might as well just say it, right?"
"Oh, absolutely," he says, a smile in his voice.
"I may have had a tiny crush on you when I was younger," I admit in a rush. "And I might have been worried I was going to throw myself at you or do something stupid last night."
His deep laugh bounces back from the trees in distorted echoes, scaring a flock of birds into flight.
"It's not that funny," I grumble.
"You're right." He wraps his hands around my wrists, dragging my hands away from my face. When I meet his gaze, he's grinning at me. "It's fucking hilarious, Loralei."
"No, it's not."
"It is," he says, tugging me up against his chest. His lips brush my ear. "I'm the one who threw myself at you, baby. First chance I had, I was jerking off in the bathroom, thinking about you. I had my hands in your pants, making you come all over my fingers the first chance I had, too."
I groan at the reminder, my core clenching.
He nips the shell of my ear, one hand sinking into my hip. "You were a perfect angel. I was hard as a rock outside the bathroom, knowing you were naked on the other side of the door."
"Ash," I groan.
"I kept hoping you'd forget and open it a little wider so I could see you." He bites the shell of my ear again before soothing it with a swipe of his tongue, his beard scraping my skin. "You had me desperate, baby."
"Ash," I whimper.
His hand tightens on my hip, his body pressing to mine. "I'm hard right now."