Chapter 7 #2
Her face lights up. “He took Hudson to Universal Studios for the day. They were both so excited. Hopefully, they won’t have any trouble getting back home. Danni said sometimes they have to close off the causeway.”
I swipe open my phone and check the weather app again. “At this point, they’re predicting the windspeed could be up to 45 miles per hour.”
Emma’s eyes widen.
“At its worst. I’m sure Tank’ll use good sense either way.”
Danni snaps her laptop closed. “Thank goodness we got most of the dead trees cut around the cottages during the lull between major storms last week.”
Emma stands. “Presh and I are going to walk back to my cottage, so we don’t get blown away.
Come on, Presh.” Emma gives me a quick side hug.
“Say hi to Wren for me. Tell her if she needs anything, that I’m in Cottage 10.
We haven’t met formally—just a quick hi when she’s going past. Presh and her dog have sniffed noses a few times. ”
Danni hugs Emma. “Use the radio if you need to, Em.” Emma and Presh leave, and Danni shifts her gaze to me. “Can you remind Wren that she can use the radio if she needs anything? Lacy and I are going to take turns monitoring the radio.”
“Yep.”
“I better get back to May Ranch.” She slides her laptop into a bag. “I want to beat the flooding.”
“You have Bear’s pickup?”
“Nope. I got my own. You didn’t see it out there?”
“Didn’t pay attention. Does it have good tires?”
“It does, and they’re bigger than Bear’s.”
“Bet he’s envious.”
“I let him drive it once in a while.” She grins.
“Oh, I almost forgot—Wren’s in Cottage 15, past the Hobbit Cottage.
The path’s too narrow to get your truck all the way there.
Ned was thinking about asking Robert Greene to come in with his tractor and open up the path a little, so campers can drive down that path, but we’re not sure if we want traffic going to and from those two cottages.
He says they’ve always been secluded and that’s part of the charm. ”
“No problem.” I swipe another piece of candy for the road.
“You got an umbrella?”
“Real men don’t use umbrellas, Danni. Didn’t Bear tell you that? They wear cowboy hats with wide brims.”
The rain hits right as I step out of the pickup. Great timing. Like the saying goes, no good deed goes unpunished. By the time I’m standing on Wren’s doorstep, knocking on her door, I’m soaked to the skin.
Wren’s bike’s on the porch, fitted out with a bigger basket, panniers, and off-road tires.
Ned went all out. Warm lights are peeking out from every window in the cottage.
When I knock, I hear a skittering sound then a thump on the door.
Wren opens the door, wearing a thin camisole slipping down her shoulder and short, baggy shorts.
The kind of casual that women don’t know is sexy as hell.
She has her hand on a big dog that probably weighs more than she does.
This is the first time I’ve seen her without her sunglasses.
If I thought she was beautiful before, I had no idea.
I don’t know how long I stare before my brain turns back on and I remember why I’m standing there and realize that yes—she still has a stick up her ass and she’s frowning at me again.
“Yes?” She says it like we’ve never seen each other before.
“Storm passing us by. Looks like this deluge is going to last a while.”
“You stopped by to give me a weather report? Or are you warning me that my cottage is going to float away?”
“You might want to put on a swimsuit.”
She stares at me, then her brows furrow. “Really?”
“No. Your cottage isn’t in a flood zone. You walk a couple minutes thattaway”—I nudge a thumb toward the direction of Billie’s Marsh— “and you’ll be wading through puddles that’ll hit your”—I stop and smile—"Skip that. You’ll be swimming.”
She frowns.
“Tomorrow, you might want to wear waders if you take Monster on a walk around the lake.”
“Glad I packed my waders.”
“Right.” I hold out her phone. “You left this in the pickup. I figured it was yours?”
Surprise then anxiety flash across her face. She pauses before reaching out and taking it from my hand.
“I didn’t know there were any of these in existence anymore.”
She looks away, a faint smile forming on her full lips. I squint to make sure I’m not seeing things.
“It is, in fact, the very last one in existence,” she says.
“Glad I was able to save it.”
“Me too. The universe thanks you.”
“It’s the least I can do… for the universe.”
A crack of lightning lights up the porch.
“Well, that’s my lighting cue,” I tell her. I turn to go, my whole body resisting because evidently, it’s a sucker for punishment as her full lips are pressed into a frown again.
“Wait!” Her eyes scan the sky. “Am I okay here… with all these big trees looming over the cottage?”
“Probably.”
“Oh.” She bites her lip.
“I doubt tonight’s the night any of those are coming down.” I turn and point at the oaks on the other side of the cottage. “Maybe one of those, but Ned and Danni thinned out the deadfall, so probably not.”
“Probably not?”
“Life’s a risk.” I’m one step away from throwing myself back into the torrential downpour when she yells out, “Don’t go!”
I turn back to her and nod. “I figured I was right.”
“About what?”
“About the crush you have on me.”
There it is again—that whisper of a smile. What will it take to see those full lips turn up in a genuine, full-out smile?
She stares down at her toes. “I meant—you should stay a few minutes and wait out the deluge…if you wanted to?”
I hesitate, not sure if I’m understanding the offer. And I’m not really sure if I want to understand her offer. Is she inviting me inside the cottage? With her? Or maybe she’s suggesting that I can stand here on the porch and wait a few more minutes for it to actually start raining even harder.
We stare at each other.
“This rain is going to be more than a few more minutes, so I might as well just”—I nudge a chin toward my pickup.
“If you stay, I’ll be nice. You have my word.”
“I don’t know anything about your word.”
“Take my word for it, my word is good.”
“Sounds convincing.” I turn to go. Again.
“Hold on,” she calls out. She flings herself inside then returns with one of those tiny, folded-up umbrellas that can only cover a chihuahua. She pushes the button to open it, and it slowly flops open.
“You can keep it. And thank you for bringing my cell phone,” she says, her voice formal.
She steps backward, and I leap down the porch steps, missing most of the barrage of rain coming from the tin roof.
I race to the pickup, yank the door open, grab the pizza box, slam the door closed, and run back to the porch, holding the pizza box in one hand and the useless umbrella in the other.
She’s still standing on the porch steps.
“You hungry?” I ask her.
The almost smile is there again, teasing at her lips. “That’s all you got? Only one pizza?” She lifts an eyebrow, and then her lip draws up just enough that I wish I had filled the whole damn pickup with pizzas.
She takes the umbrella from me and tosses it next to the door. “You get bonus points for keeping the pizza box dry.”
“I know what’s important.”
“Be nice, Monster,” she says to her dog, who’s licking the water off my boots. “No eating our guest. He brought pizza.”
“You mind if I dry off?”
“Oh, sorry. Of course.” She takes me to the bathroom and hands me a stack of towels before returning with a dry T-shirt.
“You can see if this fits. I don’t have anything else. If you bring me your shirt”—her gaze drops to my legs— “and your…your socks, I’ll pop them in the dryer to dry off.”
I hold up the offered shirt and eyeball it. “You wear this?”
“It’s my nightshirt.”
“I guess you don’t want me walking around shirtless. It would be too much of a temptation.”
She closes the door in my face.
I sit on the closed toilet lid, pull off my wet shirt, and tug on the shirt she gave me.
It’s tight, but it fits. Barely. When I bend down to take off my wet socks, I knock over the trash can. There’s only one thing in there: a pregnancy test. And it’s facing up, for me to read. And whether it’s my business or not, it’s obvious—Wren’s pregnant.