Chapter 14
After I return to the house, I insist that I don’t need a candle to go dry off and change. I’m soaked, drenched to the bone. But it’s not like I don’t know where my dresser is or have forgotten where I stashed my clothes.
I’m relieved to find Aubrey in the living room, munching on the PBJ I made for her. She pauses, mouth full and somehow adorable with that deadpan. “You almost got it right.”
I frown and glance down at myself, realizing I not only put my t-shirt on backward, but also inside out.
Whoops. I hurried to change because I worried she’d regret her agreement to hang out and renege. I was too hasty though, and I yank my shirt off to correct it now. Embarrassment at my fumble should’ve come first, but when I see her blushing and checking me out as I turn my shirt inside out, a sense of excitement fills me.
Have I been reading this correctly? Is she attracted to me—even a little bit—as I am to her?
“You want more?” I ask as I set my hands on my hips.
She chokes, coughing on the bite of sandwich. “More?”
I furrow my brow. “Yeah. Are you still hungry? I can make another sandwich.”
After a few hurried sips of water, she clears her throat and shakes her head. “Nope. I’m fine.”
I narrow my eyes at her reply. I’m getting very cautious about that damn word from her. What does she really mean?
“Any idea when the power will be back on?” she asks, quickly changing the subject by pointing at the radio I left on the coffee table.
She’s seated in front of the fireplace. While I changed, she laid out one big blanket to sit on, then draped a thinner one around her shoulders. She couldn’t have gotten wet standing at the door yelling at me, but I can feel it now. It is cooler, and since I had been soaked, I’m cold.
I lower myself next to her and grab another blanket to drape over my shoulders. “The storm is supposed to pass by morning, but no word on power or utilities.”
“I’m guessing with trees like that one dropping wherever, it might be a while.”
“Plus road closures and flash floods.”
She sighs. “Looks like we’re stuck for a while then.”
I glance at her and shrug.
Silence ticks by, and within a couple of minutes, Aubrey seems to struggle with it.
“Want to play cards?”
“Sure.” I asked her to hang out with me, but now that I’m within her warm presence, I’m at a loss to think up something to do. Actually, the only thing that comes to mind has a lot to do with her appreciative stare when I took my shirt off. But that’s not on the table. “Cards it is.”
We while away time with three games of UNO. When we bicker about the fine details and drastically opposing opinions about proper Draw Two etiquette, we give up.
Her next idea is to put a puzzle together on the coffee table, but neither of us seem into it.
I grimace at the box. “I don’t have anything against the standard jigsaw puzzle shapes.”
She groans, shoving her pile of pieces back into the other half of the box. “Yeah, me neither. But these weird ones with curvy edges require too much brainpower.”
I smile, glad I’m not the only one eager to give up.
Instead of trying another form of entertainment, we roast marshmallows in the fireplace. Aubrey found them in the kitchen when she got another cup of water.
“I’m not saying I know what Marian’s ‘system’ is in the kitchen,” I say when she stabs a white blob of sugar onto the end of what I’m certain is a pronged device used for carving turkeys, “but I doubt Marian wants that used like this.”
She smiles. “We’ll just clean it really good before she gets back.” Then she thrusts her marshmallow into the flames. “And how can you not know her system yet? I know you’ve spent time with her in there.”
“Some time. I’m nowhere near apprentice level.”
“You never learned how to cook?” she asks.
I shake my head. “My parents were very hands-off and reliant on hired help. I was never allowed to learn. It was ‘beneath’ me.”
“Hmm. Sounds like Lauren. You had shitty parents too?”
“From what I’ve heard about Lauren’s past, no. My parents were just never interested in me.”
“That sucks.”
I nod. “Not as much as your situation. I’m sorry about your parents.” It’s late, but I say it anyway. “My condolences.”
She sighs deeply. “Thanks. And I never learned to cook from them either. I had to teach myself. Thank goodness for YouTube tutorials.”
“I can’t stand the ads, though,” I say.
“Oh, they’re awful. It’s getting out of control.”
“Did my PBJ meet your self-taught standards?”
She waffles her hand. “Too much jelly, not enough peanut butter.”
“Isn’t that subjective?” I tease.
“Isn’t asking me for my opinion seeking the subjective?”
I shrug. Fair enough.
We sit there and ruin Marian’s turkey fork thing, carrying on with a mutual sense of pessimism about life in general. I’m glad she exhibits an equal, if not greater, sense of sarcasm as me. It makes for easier conversation, and we don’t stick with the mundane or small talk. I can’t escape the feeling that now that we’re really talking to each other, we share a lot more in common than I would’ve first thought possible.
“I’m thinking about staying here in Colorado,” she admits after we talk about the upcoming seasons. She isn’t returning to teach in the fall, thanks to Jeremy, but I’m intrigued that she’s considering staying here. “I don’t really have anywhere else to go.”
She doesn’t, and I hate that. She lost her family. No relatives remain to take her in. She lost her job.
But not her skills.
“What about teaching somewhere else?” I ask.
She leans on her hand, giving up on the marshmallows. Her glance at me is slow and thoughtful, and I wish I knew what she is thinking. “Like where?”
“New York?”
She arches one brow.
“I have a second foundation. We fund scholarships for graduating high school seniors in the public school system. We place them in jobs or help them get vocational credits. College, too.”
“Impressive.”
“Would you ever consider coming to New York? The foundation could benefit from a skilled educator like you. We have plenty of teaching positions available, and more pop up each day.”
She shakes her head, smirking as she gazes at the fire again. “I can’t just go like that. I don’t have money to just up and move across the country on a whim.”
“It’s not a whim—”
“Then it’s throwing charity at my face.”
I shut my lips in a tight line. I should’ve considered she would view it that way. I’m not tossing money at her. I’m suggesting a job. It’s not like I’m creating an opening just for her. Many, many jobs are waiting to be filled. If she would accept it, yes, I would jump on the chance to help her with moving expenses, but I do have enough common sense not to blurb that idea.
“I’m only here now because the trip was planned. I’d already set aside money and time off to get here. And then with Jeremy doing what he did…” She groans and rubs her face. “I had to move out of my apartment because I couldn’t—and wouldn’t be able to—afford my rent.”
I get lost in the mesmerizing rise and fall of the flames. Red, orange, and yellow curve and wave in a dance as I consider her words. She’s honest and upfront, and I admire that about her.
“I get it.”
She scoffs and turns to smirk at me. “You get it.”
“I understand what it’s like to face difficulties.”
“I’m not talking about a bad breakup. I’m talking about making ends meet. Avoiding poverty.”
“I see that, but—”
“So, with all due respect, no, you don’t get it. Please don’t try to suggest that you do.”
I pause, pulling in a deep breath for patience. She’s right, to an extent. I’ve never lived through those experiences. I’ve been fortunate to have been born into a situation and lifestyle where I never had to worry about where I’d find money for rent or wonder if food would be waiting on the table for me. While I’ve never personally faced these issues myself, I have worked with and gotten to know many in similar positions. That’s not the same. I know it’s not. Meeting the people I do through my foundation work is not the same as living it. But I am aware. I am open-minded. I am inclusive, and I desperately want to show her empathy about the struggles she voices. But I fall short. No matter what, I will fall short.
Caleb’s correct. Aubrey isn’t like me or him. She hasn’t been raised the same way we have. But that doesn’t mean I can never relate to her or connect on any other level.
She’s not an alien, for fuck’s sake. She’s just another woman when it comes down to it, and I wish I could remove the stigma and divides that part us and keep us untouchable: poor versus rich.
“From what I can see, you are more capable than what you think.”
She waves me off, but I grab her hand and hold it to snag her attention. I hate that she refuses to at least hear me out, and I’m glad, taking it as a small win, when she doesn’t try to pull away immediately.
“You’re smart, witty, and…demanding.”
She furrows her brow. The blue darkness in her eyes glimmers with reflections of the firelight, enticing me to stare forever into her soul.
“You…you can just take what you want, Aubrey. Anyone can.”
“You think I’m demanding?” she asks.
I almost want to smile because the tone she used to ask that was demanding.
“You are demanding. Very demanding. And annoying.” I frown, letting out all the truths I’ve wished I could tell her to her face. “And downright infuriating, too. But I—”
She shifts quickly, turning to face me more directly. The blanket falls over her shoulder, and the coolness of my exposed arm makes me shiver. We’ve been sharing this flannel blanket as we sit here so close to each other and the fire.
Her brows shoot up as she waits, expecting me to finish what I cut myself off from saying. I’m not fond of this habit of actually speaking my mind around her, but I can’t stop it. I gaze at her, wondering what about her draws me so damn hard. It can’t just be the fact that we’re here together, alone. It can’t be the thrill of the moment, surviving the storm. Hell, maybe that is it. Maybe I’m desperate for her because I realized how close I came to death with that tree almost crushing me in the house.
But that’s not it either. It’s just her. Aubrey captivates me and it’s not because we are the only ones in this house or anything else about this night.
It’s just her.
“I want you.” I blurt that truth I tried to keep close, knowing the moment I let it out, everything would change.
She frowns.
“I want you. I’ve wanted you since you ripped into me for cutting you off when we got here. I can’t explain—”
I’m spared from spewing more uncensored and raw honesty.
Aubrey leans in quickly, pressing her lips to mine and silencing me.
Desire overwhelms me as her mouth brushes against mine.
I growl and don’t hesitate to kiss her back.