Chapter Thirty-One
Rush
My cock was still straining against my pants when I opened the cabinet to find the phone I wasn't sure how we'd missed when searching the house.
Of course a remote cabin with shitty reception that experienced end-of-the-world wind and rain storms would have a corded landline phone so they could call for help if they needed it.
Honestly, it had been so long since I'd seen an actual phone with a cord that I had all but forgotten they existed.
But there it was, and it was ringing, and we could finally tell somewhat what was going on.
"Hello?"
"Oh, good. You're still alive," Fiona's voice met my ear, making a mix of relief and irritation move through me.
"Where the hell are all of you?" I asked.
"Oh, see. This is the funny part..."
Only, it wasn't funny. Normally, I had a high tolerance for pranks. I liked to pull them; I was a good sport about them being pulled on me.
If Fee had done this to Atlas, I would have been laughing my ass off. It was clever. And aside from the unexpected power outage and inability to get help, it was all just in good fun.
Except it wasn't happening to Atlas; It was happening to me.
And maybe even more inexplicably, it was happening to Katie. A girl who had likely never pulled a prank on anyone in her life, someone who didn't deserve to be the butt of a joke by her boss.
Fiona wasn't a cruel person, so I couldn't figure out what the hell her game was.
"I just thought you two would hit it off. Kate needed a vacation. You are good in the woods. It seemed like a good fit."
She wasn’t wrong.
I guess that was the problem.
We were a good fit.
We liked the same books, had a good time doing shit like playing board games, we'd walked to the lake where she pointed out little facts about whatever animals or bugs we passed by, about "crown shyness" which was what happened in the forest, the tree canopies growing with small gaps between them so that they could all share resources and thrive.
It had been surprisingly easy to get along with her.
But more than that, it had been far too easy to do other things with her.
Like share a bed.
Like become attracted to the smell of her fucking hair.
Like enjoy the feel of her when she laid on my chest, or wiggled back into me, seeking my nearness, demanding my attention.
She was smart and witty and interesting and sweet. But not so sweet that she was untouchable.
And, fuck, I wanted to touch.
I hadn't been prepared for the surge of attraction in my system to her, the way it got bigger and bigger until it was impossible to ignore, until I was moments from stripping her bare and having her right in that bed.
I tried to remind myself as I straightened and scrubbed the lower level that it was good we'd been interrupted, that it couldn’t lead anywhere good to go to bed with someone I worked with, that a girl like her wanted nothing to do with a man like me, with a past like mine, with a job like mine.
It was better that things ended before they went too far, that we got back to our old lives, our old roles.
It would bring clarity to the whole situation.
I went back upstairs only after I was sure I worked off every bit of sexual frustration—hell, every bit of actual energy I had left—so that I could catch a little sleep before the sun came up, sure that I would be able to share the bed to get some warmth, but also keep my hands to myself.
But she wasn't there.
I immediately moved across the hall, wanting to tell her to come back to my room, to get warm again, even if it meant I would have to go sleep somewhere else.
But, in the end, I decided to just let it drop, let her have her privacy, even if it bothered me that I knew she was going to be in that bed cold, maybe even with her teeth chattering like it had been that first night without power.
It would only be one night.
Then she would be back in her apartment, comfortable, happy, away from men who had no business touching her.
I ended up not sleeping, just laying there, staring at the dark ceiling, watching the light come up through the window.
So I got up, powered the generator one last time, showered, made coffee, cleaned up after myself again.
There was no sign of Katie, not even after I heard the truck coming up the drive, the door slamming, bringing the owner of the cabin up the front path.
He was younger than I expected, somewhere around my age with black hair, blue eyes, and a tall, fit frame. Peeking out of his blue and gray flannel jacket were neck and hand tattoos that didn't exactly mesh with my idea of a rustic cabin owner.
He came up to the door, knocking, but moving in without waiting for an answer.
"You must be Rush," he said, giving me a head shake. "Your sister-in-law is a trip," he added.
"Tell me about it," I agreed, offering him my hand.
"Beau,” he said, taking my hand, giving it a shake.
"I should have known that woman was up to something when I'd asked if I should forward the welcome packet to the guests, and she replied that they would have everything they needed.
Think that woman could talk herself out of a murder charge even if she was caught with the hot gun in her lap," Beau added, snorting.
"Some friends and I handled the tree for you.
The road is mostly clear. I will have the power company here later today. "
"You're going to need more gas for the generator," I told him. "We cleaned everything up last night."
"Appreciate it. Oh, hey honey," he said, making my head turn to find that Katie had somehow managed to come soundlessly down the steps to stand just a few feet away without me noticing.
She looked tired, her eyelids puffy, purple smudges underneath. And even paler than usual, it seemed, as she stood there with slightly widened eyes, her mouth forming a little pouty O as she looked a Beau.
The surge of jealousy was sudden and unexpected, something I wasn’t sure I'd ever really felt before, but there it was, a clawing in the stomach, a pressure on the chest.
Unwelcome, but undeniable.
"Katie, this is Beau. He owns the cabin. Beau, Katie. She hates the heads in the living room."
"You do too," she shot back, but didn't look my way.
"My uncle," Beau said, shrugging. "This was his place up until last year.
I really didn't do much except clean it up and stick it up for rentals.
I should probably make some changes. You want some coffee before you go?
" he asked, looking at Katie. "You look like you need it.
Bed not comfortable?" he asked, already moving over toward the coffee machine, making a fresh pot.
"The bed is fine. I was just cold," she admitted, making guilt stab me in the gut.
"Why didn't you sleep in the room with a fireplace?" he asked, and I was pretty sure the look he shot at me was accusatory.
Mountain men and their good manners, wanting to take care of the little ladies.
I wanted to be pissed, but it was how I was raised as well. Even if my sister—and most of my female in-laws—would want my balls to wear as earrings for suggesting such a thing.
"I, ah, I preferred my room," Katie said, head ducking, hiding whatever might have crossed her face from me, but it made Beau's brows furrow before he turned, reaching for a couple mugs.
"The cabin is lovely," she went on. And since she wasn't, by nature, someone who was chatty with strangers, I figured her being so right then was for one of two reasons.
Because she was interested in Beau.
Or because she was trying to avoid talking to me.
Neither of those things sat right with me.
But I stood there as the two of them talked about the history of the cabin, what the sights were at the woods should she ever decide to make another trip back, the next time more prepared, ready for the mercurial weather and the unexpected ups and downs of cabin life.
"I'm a little bit more, um, what you might call, you know... indoorsy," Katie quipped, making Beau give her a warm smile.
If I hadn’t been riddled with jealousy, I might have noticed it was the kind of smile I gave to Scotti, or the Mallick women, to Savea and Reagan. It was a brotherly smile.
All I could see right in the moment, though, was a man smiling at Katie. And all I felt was a strange, primal voice in the back of my mind saying "That's mine!" Even though every rational brain cell I had knew that wasn't the case, it would never be the case.
An hour later, though, Beau was telling us we'd better get on the road, knowing the traffic patterns better than the two of us.
I offered to go get Katie's bags, mostly as a move to prevent Beau from being the good guy again. But regretted it as I was coming down the stairs and heard him rattling off his phone number to her.
"In case you remember the name of that board game you mentioned," he told her as she tucked her phone away. "I think the guests would get a kick out of it."
Not five minutes later, Beau was opening her door for her while I put her bags in her trunk.
"Drive safe, okay?" Beau asked as she gave him a shy smile before putting the car into reverse.
She didn't even spare me a glance.
"Don't know what you did to piss her off, but that is going to be a long-ass plane ride," Beau said, whacking me on the back of the shoulder.
He wasn't wrong.
By the time I got on the plane, I was exhausted, hungry, and in a shitty mood.
Katie was seated two rows up from me, both of us at aisle seats, but Katie was clearly not comfortable with it, shrinking smaller and smaller each time someone walked past her.
Despite arriving at different times, we'd both chosen the same book at one of the shops in the airport, some rom-com that likely wasn't even up my alley since it didn't have anything blowing up, and likely had fade-to-black sex scenes which didn't help me at all in terms of research.
But I wanted something, anything, to distract me from watching every move she made, each time she shuffled in her seat, the way she closed the book inward toward itself to flip pages, how she nervously tapped her foot during takeoff and landing.