The thought sent a shiver down her spine, not completely related to the frigid temperatures.
At least the place looked a decent size—from the outside anyway—so hopefully they could avoid each other. Once inside the house, Bast input the alarm code and fumbled for the switch. Light came on. What a relief.
The living room was all white oak beams and Nordic-inspired comfort with a huge fireplace and comfortable looking sofas. The art was eclectic and the huge picture window fronted what must be the lake—if they could see past the falling snow.
“Wow, this place is something else.”
“It’s all my sister-in-law. For someone who used to hate letting the grass grow under her feet, she’s sure found a way to put her stamp on her living spaces.”
Pepper had met Reid’s wife, Kennedy, a couple of times and had always been impressed by her bohemian style and free-spirited approach to life.
“Pity we can’t see the lake. I bet it’s pretty.” She placed the box of groceries on the kitchen table. “How about I make us something to eat?”
“I’m not hungry. I’m just going to crash.”
“Oh, okay. I’ll set something aside for you.”
“Sure.”
Huh, why was he suddenly in a bad mood? He’d been cranky before, but she’d have thought the five-hour nap would have helped. Probably decided he was mad at her again.
“Before I do anything, I’m just going to freshen up. Where’s the bathroom?”
“It’s ensuite with the bedroom.”
Something pinged. “Bedroom? As in singular?”
He shot her a dark look but remained silent, leaving her to draw her own conclusions. One bedroom, with, she had to assume, one bed. She looked around, anxiety building.
“You’d think a multi-million dollar athlete could afford an extra room.”
“This is their place away from it all, for the two of them. So they’re not thinking of extra, unwanted guests.”
Gotcha. “I’ll take the sofa,” she said cheerfully. “And I’ll knock before I need to come in and use the bathroom.”
His gloom seemed to increase in direct correlation to her efforts to be positive. “Suit yourself.”
“I’ll go now if you don’t mind.”
Like the rest of the cottage, the (one) bedroom was lovely, the furniture tasteful, quality pieces with clear nods to Kennedy’s sense of style.
The bathroom had a nice big shower, a clawfoot tub, and Moroccan style blue and white tiling. So pretty, but … they had to share. For how long, she wondered?
After washing her hands, she considered next steps. Miraculously she had a signal on her phone—not being in Mackinac and all—so she shot off a message to her dad.
Pepper
Made it! The asset is secure. Might need to stay overnight because of the storm, though.
Dad
Glad you arrived safely. Check in tomorrow and let me know how Durand is holding up. He’s bound to be feeling a bit down about this latest setback.
Pretty clear who was the priority here. Next, she sent a text to Elle.
Hey, I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to watch Hatch tomorrow. I had to get away for a few days.
The response was immediate.
Elle
Please don’t worry. I saw the press conference and what happened afterward. Take all the time you need, and remember, I’m here if you need to talk.
Sweet of her, but confiding in the wife of one of Bast’s teammates seemed like a bad idea. How could she trust anyone these days?
She texted back.
Thanks. I’ll let you know when I’m back in town. It won’t be long.
She hoped.
What had she been thinking when she agreed to drive Bast all the way here? He was the last person on earth she should be holed up with.
Several texts had come in from Connor, all variations of “da fuck, Pepper?” and “call me.”
She dialed his number. “Say what you have to say.”
“Dad said you drove Durand to some secret fucking location! What the fuck, Pep?”
“I’m just following orders. And what happened was an accident.”
“Jesus, Pepper, what the hell is going on here? You know he’s had a shitty year with his injury. The last thing he needs is more—”
“What? Drama?”
“Well. Yeah. I would’ve thought you’d be trying to keep a low profile after Gally.”
“That was the plan. But sometimes plans go off the rails.”
Her brother scoffed. “Or are driven there.”
For once, she’d like her brother to act like the protector she needed. “I so don’t need this right now. As usual, you don’t have all the facts.”
Connor took a breath, like he was aiming for calm. “I wish you’d tell me what happened with Gally.”
She swallowed back tears. “Can’t you just accept my word that I’m not to blame?”
“What am I supposed to think if you don’t confide in me?”
They’d been circling the drain of this argument for months now. “And why the hell would I when you just assume I’m the problem? Go to hell, Connor!”
Gah! She almost threw her phone against the mirror. Connor was the golden child in the Calhoun family, the one with a tangible talent, an instant connection to Dad, while Pepper existed on the periphery, her achievements never on par with her brother’s. Of course he was going to take Kent’s part in all this.
Her stomach rumbled, angry with her for forcing it to survive on a lone cinnamon-raisin muffin, which she’d eaten at 8 a.m. She would feel better when she ate. If Pepper knew one thing, it was that food would be her savior during this difficult time.
Walking out of the bathroom, she was greeted by a flash of strong chest. It took all her willpower not to stand and stare.
Bast was peeling off his shirt.
“Oh, sorry.” Averting her gaze, she headed to the door.
“Pepper?”
“Yes?” Still with her back to him, she stood in place waiting for him to speak.
“I need a hand.”
She turned to find him with his T-shirt bunched up around his neck, revealing most of his broad chest and one strong shoulder. Bare, golden skin that would probably be very smooth under her fingertips.
Not that she would ever know.
“A hand?” she repeated.
“Yeah. If you can do so without inflicting further damage.”
Ouch. Okay, he was still hurting—everywhere.
“Sure, let me …” She curled her fingers under the neck of his shirt. “If we could get this over your head …” She moved in closer, now mere inches from his body, and stretched the fabric. “It might be easier if you sit?”
Sitting on the bed, he grunted.
“Sorry, am I hurting you?”
“No, just …” He seemed to grit his teeth. “Do it.”
Moving the material over his ear, she murmured, “Just bend your head—okay, there.” The tee was now in a puddle over his left shoulder. Gently, she worked it down over his brace. It felt warm in her hands, so she quickly folded it and placed it on top of a dresser.