Chapter 2
Evie stared into her sparsely populated fridge, hoping to figure out something suitable to eat.
Anything would be a bonus. She hadn’t planned on being here much over the coming days with all the wedding activities.
Whatever she found certainly wouldn’t suit their somewhat formal attire.
The butterflies that had invaded her stomach when Brennan had called her beautiful were still there.
Add in the look in his eyes, and she was feeling a tad self-conscious…
and perhaps a little bit appreciated. When was the last time a man had looked at her with appreciation in his eyes?
Brennan O’Reilly took up far too much space in her cozy cabin.
And dressed in the black suit, white shirt and green tie that matched his eyes?
He was hot in his firefighter uniform, but now he was positively sinful.
Her heart preferred casual. So much safer that way.
She tried to shove aside the time their paths crossed when Lacey had invited her to make use of the family hot tub to ease the aches after moving day.
Brief as it had been, that vision was etched permanently into her memory.
She was an artist, after all. She could appreciate a beautiful body and not be attracted to it.
And Brennan most definitely had a beautiful body.
His muscles were sculptured, but not too much, with lines and veins her fingers wanted to trace—in a purely professional way of course.
She’d always found it easier to transpose something onto paper if she studied it through touch first.
He was well proportioned and tall enough that she didn’t tower over him in her heels, which wasn’t all that easy given her five-nine height.
His arms were strong enough to fight away fears, and his dark hair long enough to lose her fingers in, but not so long as to get in the way.
And those eyes? She’d counted at least three different shades of green earlier.
How many more would she find if she was gifted the time to sit and study them?
Okay. Fine. She was attracted to him, in more than a professional capacity.
But she’d dated beautiful before, and it had been a mistake.
One she wouldn’t repeat. Beautiful expected beautiful, and when she couldn’t deliver well enough, eyes had wandered, followed closely by hands and the rest of the jerk’s body.
She wasn’t model thin, even if she had the height.
Her hair was a mess of tangles in the mornings and took a reasonable amount of taming before she could leave the house secure in the fact she wouldn’t look like she’d slept outdoors during a hurricane.
An occasional scar or two… or more… from her clumsiness shouldn’t be held against her.
Her body was strong and healthy, just not perfect. She was happy with it.
But the ex hadn’t been. His expectations were more in line with airbrushed-magazine perfection.
Who could live up to that? But she’d been swept up in the perfection of the romance and attention he’d showered her with in the beginning and missed the signs the relationship was shifting into something else.
Eventually though, she’d remembered what her parents had taught her. A person’s worth was in their heart, not their appearance. Looks could change in an instant, but their heart was where the truth lived. Her heart had recovered. Her self-confidence was still a work-in-progress.
“Anything in there?”
Evie jumped, and as she turned, almost fell against him.
“Sorry.” Her gaze traced the line of his neck, down to the V at the collar of his shirt, and the two buttons undone, and then it jumped to his wrists.
She swallowed. Brennan had removed his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves to reveal those forearms made to protect.
That familiar itch in her fingers flared.
The need to trace the lines of his veins.
To feel the strength and firmness of the muscles.
To experience the softness of the hairs.
She dug her nails into her palms, giving her something to focus on and the strength to turn back to the fridge and the blissfully cool air, which would hopefully ease the flaming of her cheeks.
Clearly she needed a date, or a strong distraction, before she started doing more than admiring him with something other than professional interest.
Dating him was off the table. She valued Lacey’s friendship far too much to get involved with Brennan.
Once was enough to lose a best friend over a relationship.
She wasn’t going there again. No matter how hard her heart might hammer when he was close.
Purely hormonal. Pheromones or whatever.
A side effect of the danger she’d unknowingly been in tonight, and his timely arrival and rescue.
That had to be it. She was feeling grateful.
Except she wasn’t, because as much as she might want to deny it, these feelings, or hints of feelings, had been around for longer than she was prepared to admit.
Dragging her mind back to the task at hand, she assessed the fridge contents again. “Sandwiches?” She’d picked up a loaf of bread from Lacey’s bakery that morning.
“Oh, wait.” She switched from the fridge to the freezer and pulled out two containers from her pre-cooked stash. “Perfect.” She turned around with a smile of satisfaction. “Lamb and vegetable stew. Just heat and eat.” The bread would go perfectly with it.
“Sounds great.” Brennan took the containers from her hands, his fingers brushing hers in the process.
Electricity zapped between them. She sucked in a short, sharp breath and Brennan’s eyes widened. Clearly, it hadn’t been one-sided.
“Why don’t I heat these up,” he said, “while you set the table. I don’t think it’s safe for me to touch anything over there.”
Evie’s lips twitched at the twinkle in his eyes.
Her heart might also have done a little leap to be on the receiving end of a look like that from him for once.
Brennan O’Reilly didn’t tease her. Ever.
She put her hands on her hips, tilted her head, and stared at him.
“Is that a dig at my housekeeping skills?” Admittedly, he had a point.
There were piles on most of the surfaces in her living area.
But she knew what was in them and could find whatever she needed when she needed it.
“I have no idea how you are such a mess everywhere else, but here?” Brennan waved his arm around her kitchen. “Perfection.”
“It’s a gift.”
One courtesy of her childhood. The rules were simple.
The rest of the house could be comfortable, a touch untidy or disorganized, but never the kitchen or bathrooms. Too many germs, according to her mother—an emergency nurse, health freak (in the nicest possible way), and fabulous cook.
Evie might not have gotten all her mother’s talents in the kitchen, but she had inherited her love of cooking.
Evie was about to point out where the saucepans were, but Brennan was already reaching for the correct cupboard.
How did… Oh. That’s right. He’d turned up on the day she’d moved in.
All the brothers had, but Brennan was the only one who had stayed, along with Lacey, and helped her unpack.
Not that he’d said much to her, aside from asking where things should go.
When she’d asked Lacey why he’d stayed, Lacey’s response had been a shrug followed by, “I don’t know why my brothers do the things they do. Sometimes it’s best not to ask.”
So Evie hadn’t. She’d just thanked him at the end of the day when he was ready to leave.
His response? A nod, and a grunt which may have been ‘You’re welcome’ in disguise.
It may have been something else, though.
She’d been putting away her underwear, with a reasonable assortment of silk and lace gracing her bed.
It had taken ages for her cheeks to cool. Just the memory had them heating again.
Pulling herself back from her mental wanderings, Evie focused on the table and the assortment of school craft projects she’d been prepping for her students for next week.
Her dining room table might be small, but it was still the best place to do her school-related work.
Sure, she could use her studio, but that was where she let the artist in her roam free.
She didn’t want to mix the rules and structure of school with that.
It wasn’t usually a problem since when she ate, she either curled up on the couch or sat at the kitchen counter on the bar stool.
But tonight, it was needed for its original purpose.
After clearing the table, she braved her way into the cramped kitchen, being careful to avoid bumping into Brennan to collect the cutlery and napkins.
As she was setting the table, the lights flickered.
Would the power hold? She could find her way around in the dark, but that was because she knew where everything was.
Brennan wouldn’t. She grabbed the candelabra from the bookshelf and added it to the table.
With four candles it should provide a decent amount of light, combined with that from the fire, for them to eat and move around safely.
As small as the cabin was, it was perfect for one—which was all she needed.
Brennan’s presence gave the space a whole different feel.
Much more intimate. Not so much cozy home as ‘get away from it all to be alone together’ feel.
Her hand stilled in the middle of lighting the second candle.
Together. They were stuck here together.
Everything that came with the current situation finally hit her.
With just one bed, and a couch which would not fit the six-foot-two fireman currently heating stew at her stove. Where would he sleep?
“Ouch,” she muttered, the heat from the match getting a little too close to her fingers. She blew it out and dropped it on the oak table before giving her finger a once-over. No burn, just a little too close to the flame.
“Show me.” The gruff voice from behind startled her. Last she knew it, and its owner, were in the kitchen. How did a man so large move so quietly?
“I’m fine.” She tried to pull her hand from his larger one. His touch sent tingles outward, dancing along her skin. Unsettling, yet at the same time, very welcome. Talk about confusing. But he didn’t let it go until he’d thoroughly inspected it.
“What am I going to do with you?” Brennan shook his head. “You’re an accident waiting to happen.”
“Guess you’ll have to keep me close and—” What on earth was she saying? “Sorry. Runaway mouth. Won’t happen again.”
His gaze dropped to her lips, which led to a reciprocal action from hers.
Then their gazes met, and the moment stretched.
His fingers ran gently down her arm to her hand and rested there, just touching but not holding.
Her mouth went dry, her body temperature shot up, and her heart raced.
And those butterflies? Now zooming like they were high on a triple chocolate mud cake with a coffee cream center.
Oh, definitely a professional reaction. Not.
The lights flickered again, and Brennan stepped back. She bit back a whimper at the loss of his closeness.
He cleared his throat. “We should eat.” And then he was gone.
What just happened? She could’ve sworn he was leaning closer, maybe even thinking about kissing her. She’d definitely been thinking about kissing him.
Evie took a deep breath. The touch of his fingers on her arm and hand still lingered.
The urge to talk to someone about her conflicting emotions was strong.
But her parents were on the other side of the world, seeing sights they’d only dreamed they’d ever get to see.
Even though she knew they wouldn’t mind, she wasn’t about to intrude on their current adventure hiking the Machu Picchu trail.
Lacey was the only other person she’d want to share this with.
But how exactly would Evie broach the subject of finding Lacey’s eldest brother insanely attractive?
Because the way she remembered the shape of his lips, the color and slight part to them, plus the shadowy hint of facial hair starting to grow, had nothing whatsoever to do with the artist in her.
Once Brennan left the kitchen with two steaming bowls of stew, she ventured in and gathered the bread, butter, and plates. The bottle of wine in the fridge could stay there. Water would be just fine.
If she could just make it through this current situation unscathed, she promised herself she’d go on a date with someone suitable.
Someone safe. Someone who would satisfy her apparent need for a little male appreciation but not interfere beyond dinner.
Not someone who took her breath away simply by breathing, being in the same room, or with the briefest impersonal touch.
Funny thing was, until tonight, she’d have probably classified Brennan as safe.
If she ignored the whole best friend’s brother factor putting him firmly in the ‘Do Not Touch’ basket.