4. Chapter Four
Chapter Four
Gage
M y world narrows to Eden's lips. She tastes like summer strawberries and forbidden promises. I'm fucking drowning in her sweetness.
My hands slide down her sides, gripping her waist to pull her closer.
"Gage," she whimpers against my mouth.
That sound—Christ, that little breathy moan—shoots straight through me. I lift her onto my lap, and she comes willingly, her thighs bracketing mine. Her fingers dig into my shoulders, nails biting through my shirt, marking me like the only damn scar I could be proud of.
"Eden." Her name comes out like a prayer that I don't fucking deserve. "Baby, you're killing me. We can't—"
She rocks against me, experimental and innocent, and my grip on her hips tightens. The soft curves of her body press against my chest, driving me wild.
My hands slide under the oversized flannel she's wearing—my flannel—finding the warm silk of her skin. She arches into my touch, making these perfect little sounds that are going to be the death of me.
"Please," she whispers, and I'm lost. Completely lost in—
CRASH!
The sound of shattering glass rips through the cabin. Eden jumps in my arms, her head whipping toward the noise. My body shifts instantly, muscles coiling as I wrap her protectively against my chest, two big arms cradling her into my embrace.
"What was that?" Her breath fans hot against my neck.
My senses snap to high alert, scanning for threats, cataloging exits. Old instincts kick in hard and fast.
Another crash echoes from somewhere behind us of the cabin.
"The storm," I announce gruffly. "It's hitting harder."
The sound of breaking glass snaps my military-trained senses into overdrive. I scan the cabin, tracking the direction of the noise until—fuck. A massive pine branch pierces through my kitchen window, rainwater already pooling on my counter.
"A fucking tree just fell on my cabin!"
Eden shifts in my lap, her lips quirking up despite the situation. "Huh. Cockblocked by nature. That's a new one."
I glare at her, fighting the urge to kiss that smug little grin off her face.
"Not fucking funny." But my body betrays me, responding to her playful tone even as my tactical mind catalogs the damage.
She opens her mouth to reply, but another thunderous crack drowns out whatever she was about to say. The entire cabin shudders. Eden jumps with a gasp, and I jerk back, every nerve ending still blazing from our interrupted moment.
The sharp snap of splintering wood fills the air, followed by the unmistakable sound of water hitting hardwood. Cursing, I launch to my feet, nearly stumbling as blood rushes back to places it shouldn't be.
Eden tumbles off my lap, catching herself on the table.
Water sprays from a jagged hole in my ceiling, right above the kitchen counter. The massive pine trunk responsible for the damage stretches through my roof like some twisted modern art installation.
"Uh..." Eden's eyes go wide as she takes in the destruction. "Is that supposed to happen?"
I run a hand over my face, fighting the urge to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Here I am, trying to keep my hands off my best friend's daughter, and Mother Nature decides to literally bring the roof down.
"No, sunshine. It fucking isn't."
I stride to my supply closet in the hall, yanking out tarps and tools. The sound of water hitting my floor grows louder, and I grab rope, a hammer, and whatever else might help contain this clusterfuck.
Turning back to assess the damage, I freeze. Eden's bent over my counter, delicately dabbing at the growing puddle with what looks like... a dish towel.
The sight would be comical if it wasn't so damn distracting. My shirt rides up her thighs as she stretches, completely oblivious to how the wet fabric clings to her curves.
"What the hell are you doing?"
She straightens, holding up the soaked cloth like it's some kind of victory flag. "Helping?"
I drop the supplies on my table with a thud. "That's like trying to empty the ocean with a teaspoon."
"Well, excuse me for not having extensive experience in dealing with trees crashing through roofs." She wrings out the cloth, water splashing her bare feet. "Some of us lived normal lives in houses that stayed, you know, intact."
"Lucky you're pretty, sunshine." The words slip out before I can stop them, rough and too honest.
Her eyes snap to mine, that familiar spark of challenge lighting them up. "Oh? So you do think I'm pretty?"
Fuck. I grab the tarp, refusing to acknowledge the heat crawling up my neck.
"Stay here." The growl rips from my throat. "I'll go on the roof and you keep the flood at bay from inside."
Eden plants her hands on those curvy hips, chin tilted in defiance. "Excuse me? I can help."
"Not happening." I yank on my boots, already moving toward the door. The last thing I need is her out there, getting hurt because I'm too distracted.
But of course she follows me onto the porch.
I whirl around, ready to drag her back inside if I have to. The wind whips between us, carrying stinging drops of rain that plaster her hair to her face.
"You never fucking listen, do you?" The rain soaks through my shirt in seconds. Frustrated, I rip it off, tossing it aside. No point in wearing wet clothes while I work.
Eden's grin spreads slow and wicked across her face.
"Didn't hear you complaining when I was in your lap a minute ago." She takes a step closer, and I swear to God she's swaying her hips on purpose. "Plus, you never answered my question."
"What question?"
"Do you think I'm pretty?"
Every muscle in my body locks up. My fingers twitch with the need to grab her, to show her exactly how pretty I think she is. My cock strains against my jeans, and I curse myself for being so weak.
I force myself to look away, staring at the fallen tree instead of those honey-brown eyes that are going to be the death of me.
"You're goddamn gorgeous." The admission tears from my chest. "Now make yourself useful and hold this ladder."
The ladder creaks under my weight as I climb. Rain pelts my bare skin like ice shards, but I barely notice. Years in combat zones taught me to focus past physical discomfort.
When I reach the top, I curse at the sight.
The damage is worse than I thought. The ancient pine tree has crashed straight through, leaving a jagged six-foot hole above the kitchen. Broken shingles litter the roof's surface. Through the gap, I spot our half-finished breakfast on the table, the chair Eden knocked over when she climbed into my lap.
Fuck. I shouldn't have let that happen. Shouldn't have tasted those soft lips, felt her body pressed against mine. Daniel would kill me if he knew the thoughts I'm having about his little girl.
Wouldn't he? Or am I doing exactly what we wanted?
"Everything okay up there?" Eden's voice carries over the howling wind.
"Yeah." I clear my throat, forcing myself back to the task. "Start handing up the tarps. We need to cover this before the whole damn house floods."
She passes up the supplies - thick blue tarps, rope, a hammer, nails. It's not gonna be perfect, but it will have to do until the storm passes.
Eden's fingers brush mine with each handoff, sending sparks through my rain-chilled skin. The touch is deliberate, I know it is. Just like I know I'm in deep trouble with this woman who's shown up on my doorstep and invaded my self-inflicted isolation.
"You're shivering," she calls up. "Maybe you should've kept your shirt on."
"Maybe you should focus on the job instead of my chest."
Her laugh floats up, bright despite the chaos of the storm. "Can't I do both?"
I grab the next tarp harder than necessary, but I can't stop the corner of my mouth from lifting. Even soaked to the bone in a crisis, she manages to make me want to smile. That's dangerous as hell and something I never thought I'd do again.
I stretch across the roof, hammering the final nail to secure the tarp. It's not perfect, but it'll hold until the storm passes. The blue plastic snaps in the wind, but stays put when I tug on it. Good enough.
Rain streams down my back, but I barely feel it anymore. Survival mode kicks in when you need it—one thing the military taught me that's actually useful in civilian life.
Movement catches my eye. Eden's crossing the porch below, arms full of tools she's carrying back inside. Her blonde hair is plastered to her face, but fuck, it was nice to have someone here to help me for once.
A vicious gust of wind tears through the clearing, howling like something alive.
Eden's foot hits a slick patch on the deck. She skids, arms windmilling as she loses balance.
"Shit—!" Her cry cuts through the storm as she goes down hard on the wooden planks.
I don't think. Don't hesitate. Pure instinct takes over.
I launch myself off the ladder, dropping the twelve feet to the deck. My knees absorb the impact as I land in a crouch beside her, the way I've done a hundred times in combat zones.
My hands are on her in seconds, turning her over, eyes scanning for blood, broken bones, anything out of place. My heart hammers against my ribs harder than it did in any firefight.
"Where does it hurt?" My voice comes out hard and fast, the tone I used with wounded soldiers. Commanding. Expecting an answer quickly.
Eden winces, pushing up on one elbow. "I'm fine, it's just—ow."
She flinches when she tries to move her ankle.
My scowl deepens as I slide one arm under her knees, the other behind her back. I lift her against my chest, her weight nothing compared to the gear I've hauled through deserts and mountains for months on end.
"Inside. Now."
I don't wait for her agreement, just carry her through the door, my rain-slicked chest pressed against her side, her breath warm against my neck.
The ladder clatters to the porch behind me as I kick the door shut with my boot. Water drips from both of us onto the hardwood floor while I set Eden on the sofa.
"Shirt off."
Eden's eyes go wide, her lips parting. "Uh... that's forward."
My jaw tightens. Eight years of combat medicine kicks in, overriding the heat that flares in my chest at her words. "It's soaked. You're shaking. Let me see your back."
She pauses, fingers playing with the wet hem of my flannel she's wearing. Then slowly, she lifts it.
My breath catches in my throat, but I force myself to stay present.
"You looked like a drunk flamingo out there," I say, looking at the damage.
Eden's laugh bursts out unexpectedly, filling the cabin with something I haven't heard in years. Pure joy . She clutches her side, shoulders shaking with giggles now instead of cold.
"A drunk flamingo?" She turns to face me, eyes crinkling at the corners. "That's the first joke I've heard you make... maybe ever."
Something shifts in my chest. A warmth spreading through places long gone cold. Making her laugh feels better than anything has in years—like I've accomplished something meaningful instead of just surviving another day.
I kneel in front of her, carefully inspecting the angry red scrape running across her lower back.
Nothing serious—just skin that'll bruise by morning. My fingers hover over the mark, not quite touching her. She's shivering, but I can't tell if it's from the cold or something else.
"Hold still," I mutter, reaching for the first aid kit I keep under the coffee table. Old habits.
As I clean the scrape with antiseptic, I replay her fall in my mind. The way her feet flew out from under her, arms pinwheeling wildly in the air before she went down.
I finish bandaging her scrape, but I don't move away. Can't seem to make myself break this moment.
"I used to be funny," I admit quietly. "Before."
She reaches out, her fingers brushing against my stubbled jaw. "I like Funny Gage. You should let him out more often."
I just grunt in reply, tracing the mark with my fingertips, keeping my touch light as a whisper on her pale skin.
The soldier in me catalogs the injury: minor contusion, no serious damage.
But the man in me... Christ.
I clench my jaw, forcing myself to focus. "You're gonna feel that later."
I grab a small towel from the kitchen, soaking it in hot water. The compress will help with the swelling, keep the muscles from stiffening up. Basic field medicine—something I've done a hundred times in places I try to forget.
When I return, she's still sitting where I left her, shoulders bare except for her bra strap.
"Hold still," I say, kneeling behind her.
I press the warm compress against her lower back, right at the edge of the scrape. My rough hands trail over her skin, feeling the goosebumps rise under my touch.
I've patched up men twice my size, but I've never been this careful, this aware of every millimeter of contact.
Eden exhales, her breath shaky.
She looks over her shoulder at me, honey-brown eyes meeting mine. "You're really good at this."
I grunt, focusing on the compress instead of the curve of her spine. "Not my first time patching someone up."
Eden smiles, and something in my chest constricts. "My own personal mountain medic."
My fingers pause against her skin. That fucking smile is ruining me. It hits like a grenade to the chest, blowing apart the walls I've spent eight years building. In this moment, I can see exactly how this plays out—her turning fully toward me, my hands sliding up her back, pulling her against me.
Daniel's daughter. My best friend's little girl.
I pull back abruptly, standing up so fast my knees crack. "Go warm up in the tub. I'll finish mopping up the kitchen."
Eden lingers for a second, something unreadable passing across her face before she nods and slips into the bathroom.
She shuts the door with a soft click, and on the other side, I stand completely still, exhaling hard, fists clenched at my sides.
"Fuck," I breathe out. "I'm so screwed."