“Yes.” She nods, owning it. “I can do that too. Quite well.”
When I don’t respond, she adds, “We might be stuck for a few days, so I brought food.” She gestures at one of the two bags at her feet. I lift the enormous tote off the floor—it weighs a good thirty pounds.
“You hefted this from the end of the drive?”
“There was too much water. I didn’t want to risk driving down and then not be able to leave. Just in case... In case.”
In case I rejected her? I carry the bag to the kitchen counter.
“I knocked for a while. Were you asleep?”
“I was taking a nap.”
“You’re a deep sleeper all the time, then.” She picks up the other bag—an overnight bag—and follows me to the kitchen. “Not only after a long drive and...”
She trails off, resting her teeth on her plump bottom lip.
I wonder if she was going to finish that statement with “and really great sex.” That’s how I would’ve finished it.
Coming out from behind the counter, I stand over her and lift my palm to her face. She rests her chilled cheek in my hand and peers up at me with bright green-gold eyes surrounded by smudged mascara.
“Sorry about leaving,” she says. “And crashing your vacation.”
“I believe you about the leaving part. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here. But the second half…” I shake my head. “You came to me first, I assume? Or did you do an inventory of every empty cabin before trying me?”
There’s a weighty pause, as if she’s deciding how much to reveal. “I came to you first.”
The news has me pulling my shoulders back. She’s here because she wants to be, not because she has to be. I like that. I hide my smile, not wanting her to see what it means to me that she wanted to come back. To see that I wanted her to come back.
Hell, I never wanted her to leave.
I gesture to the bedroom on the opposite side of the cabin from mine. “Help yourself. Plenty of hot water for a shower, and I have food. I’ll add what you brought to the cabinets and fridge.”
“Thank you.” She gathers the blanket around her shoulders, picks up her bag, and heads for the guest bedroom.
“You always travel with an overnight bag?” I call after her.
“Yeah.” She nods from the hallway. “You never know.”
Is it me, or was her smile a little sad before she closed the bedroom door?
I pull a hand down my face and pace to the kitchen. As soon as I put the groceries away, I’m having a beer.
Chapter 7
SUNDAY MORNING
Becca
By the time I dress in the en suite the next morning, I’ve realized my mistake in showing up at Dax’s cabin.
The reason one-night stands work is because they last one night. One exquisite, perfect, no-regrets night before you each return to your respective lives. I should’ve thought about the consequences of sleeping with a guy who’s on the first day of his vacation. Hard to go back to your respective anythings when you live on the same mountain.
There was no mind-blowing sex last night like the first night. There wasn’t so much as a kiss. I came back out of the bedroom and sipped half a beer until it grew warm, then excused myself to bed. I should have suspected that outcome. After all, I’ve never heard of a two-night stand.
I have no excuse for my showing up here rather than bunking in a variety of other places at Grand Lark. Other than the real reason: I wanted to see him. I wanted to see his handsome face and hear the low rumble of his voice. When he tossed that blanket around me last night and zeroed those gorgeous eyes in on me, I nearly started purring.
I should’ve prefaced that by saying I’m not the clingy type. I don’t mind temporary, or moving forward. Heck, I love it. I’ve made several moves—changed states, made new friends, switched roommates. Not only do I not mind change: I thrive on it.
However. There’s no denying I’ve made things awkward by being here. I could’ve muscled Dominic out of the restaurant’s spare bed—he’d have let me. Then I’d be awake and in my office working away. Instead I have to walk out into the common area of cabin 13 before canoeing up the driveway to my car.
I was hoping Dax liked to sleep until noon so I could escape without seeing him. Cowardly, I know, but that was my hope. Until I heard him puttering around in the kitchen.
Well. Here goes nothing.
I whip open the door and then step into the living room. Dax stands in the open kitchen, hip leaning against the countertop, fingers wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee.
“Good morning!” Maybe if I act like nothing’s wrong, nothing will be. He dips his chin in a nod before sipping from his mug.
“Wow. It’s coming down out there.” Great. Now I’m talking about the weather.
I swallow nervously as I pace to the kitchen. Dax’s eyes go to my bag, which I slip off my shoulder and rest on one of the barstools.
Because of course I’m leaving. Of course I’m vacating the premises. Before things get really weird. We didn’t make promises, and I don’t want him to feel as if he has to make any.
“Look,” I start.
“Tree’s down.”
“Pardon?”
“In the road at the top of the driveway. You can’t drive back to the office until we remove the tree.”
Not that I don’t believe him, but I walk to the front door and look out the window. I can see my car. A huge downed tree, fat limbs pointing to the sky, blocks the road.
“Oh my gosh.” Six inches to the left and my Toyota would’ve been a crunchy metal pancake. In the driveway, close to the house, Dax’s Jeep sits in gathering water.
“Guessing you can’t drive me to work either?”
He shakes his head, just once. “Not until this lets up.”
With a sigh, I face him. He’s leaning there on the counter looking too good for words. Strong and sexy. Silvery stare focused on me, T-shirt hugging his muscular arms...
“How do you feel about a two-night stand?” I ask with a grin.
A low laugh escapes his throat. I grin wider. I thought I was kidding, but now that he’s smiling at me, I’m sure that I’m not.
“Seconds,” he says, pushing off the counter to approach me, “are not out of the question.”
“No?” I ask on an exhale.
“Not for me. You?”
I shrug one shoulder and drop it.
“You know how I feel about uncertainty, Princess.” He hoists an eyebrow.
Oh, I know. He likes to hear the word “yes.” Clear, concise “yeses” back to back when he’s in the process of making me lose my mind.
Is it suddenly hot in here?
“Why do you call me ‘Princess’?” I ask, rather than talk about any of this “yes” business.
“Do you drink coffee?”
I blink at his question in response to my question. Sly, this one. “Who doesn’t?”
“My ex-girlfriend.” He turns away to pour me a cup.
I stare at his broad back and wonder who she was. What she was like. How long they dated.
Something else I don’t make a habit of is feeling jealousy’s sting. I don’t worry about the past…or the future. I’m frowning by the time he faces me, steaming cup in hand.