"Yeah, well, it's not fucking funny. Something could have happened," he said, turning his wide back to me as he spoke, making me feel like I was intruding on something personal.
Shut out, I set down the oil lamp a few feet away from him, taking the flashlight with me.
I had no destination in mine, just as far away from the rejection I had felt as I could get.
It wasn't long before Rush joined me in my room, the hurricane lamp lit, brightening the dark space.
"Fee said the owner will be here at first light to deal with the tree in the road. We have flights back in the afternoon. It would be smart to pack tonight since you unpacked everything," he told me, placing the lamp on the nightstand before making a hasty retreat back to the doorway.
"Wait... what?" I asked, feeling like I had missed something.
"When we get back, Fee is going to talk to you about it," he said, shaking his head, moving into the hall, seemingly unwilling to give me anything else. "Pack. Get some sleep in my room. I am going to take the lamp when you're done, so I can finish straightening the place up for the owner so we can get out of here as fast as possible tomorrow."
With that, he was gone, closing my door as he went, like some silent sign not to follow him.
I didn't have a hell of a lot of pride left, but I had just enough to prevent me from running after a man who clearly did not want to be around me.
So I slowly, carefully, painstakingly packed; I straightened my room, hearing Rush doing the same across the hall, likely by the light of his phone.
He certainly didn't want to waste any time getting out of here. Getting away from this situation. And, even in an abstract way, me.
On that sobering thought, I took the lamp across the hall, placing it a foot out from his door, knocking.
"All yours," I said before rushing across the hall, closing, and locking my door, throwing myself in the bed, burrowing deep under the blankets, ignoring the cold that seemed to sink into my bones with each passing moment.
I wasn't going across that hall.
I wasn't getting in that bed.
Where the sheets smelled like him.
Where I had done something so stupid as to think it was possible to have something real with Rush Rivers.
I couldn't.
It was all fantasy.
Sure, he'd kissed me.
But I was there.
He was horny.
I was what he could reach out for.
It wasn't a happy thought, but it was a realistic one.
And it was one I repeated in my mind like a mantra for what felt like hours as Rush banged around a floor below me.
If I were a bigger person, I would go down there and help him.
But I wasn't.
So I stayed put, layering on a few sweaters, two pairs of socks, slipping all the way under all the blankets, head and all.
It was hours before I could hear his feet on the stairs, going into his room, pausing, likely taking in the empty bed, then coming across the hall.
My breath caught in my chest as I waited for his hand to raise, for his knuckles to knock, for his voice to demand I come back to his bed, get warm.
But I waited in vain.
Because all I heard was an exhalation of his breath, then his footsteps moving away, his door closing, locking, the bed groaning as he got down in it.
So, that was it.
Ridiculous, irrational tears sprang into my eyes, making me blink them back with a determination that didn't feel familiar.
I wasn't going to cry.
Over a freaking story I created in my own mind, some fairytale where the plain, boring, awkward girl finds out she was somehow beautiful, interesting, and elegant after all, that she caught the attention of the handsomest man in all the land, and she was going to live happily ever after.
God, how could I have been so naive?
My life wasn't a fairytale.
I damn sure wasn't a princess.
And Rush Rivers wasn't exactly acting very princely right now either.
It was time to go.
Back to the cold, hard reality.
At least I knew where I stood there.
Whether I liked it or not.
SIX
Rush
My cock was still straining against my pants when I opened the cabinet to find the phone I wasn't sure how we'd missed when searching the house.
Of course a remote cabin with shitty reception that experienced end-of-the-world wind and rain storms would have a corded landline phone so they could call for help if they needed it.
Honestly, it had been so long since I'd seen an actual phone with a cord that I had all but forgotten they existed.
But there it was, and it was ringing, and we could finally tell somewhat what was going on.
"Hello?"
"Oh, good. You're still alive," Fiona's voice met my ear, making a mix of relief and irritation move through me.
"Where the hell are all of you?" I asked.
"Oh, see. This is the funny part..."
Only, it wasn't funny. Normally, I had a high tolerance for pranks. I liked to pull them; I was a good sport about them being pulled on me.
If Fee had done this to Atlas, I would have been laughing my ass off. It was clever. And aside from the unexpected power outage and inability to get help, it was all just in good fun.
Except it wasn't happening to Atlas; It was happening to me.
And maybe even more inexplicably, it was happening to Katie. A girl who had likely never pulled a prank on anyone in her life, someone who didn't deserve to be the butt of a joke by her boss.
Fiona wasn't a cruel person, so I couldn't figure out what the hell her game was.
"I just thought you two would hit it off. Kate needed a vacation. You are good in the woods. It seemed like a good fit."
She wasn't wrong.
I guess that was the problem.
We were a good fit.
We liked the same books, had a good time doing shit like playing board games, we'd walked to the lake where she pointed out little facts about whatever animals or bugs we passed by, about "crown shyness" which was what happened in the forest, the tree canopies growing with small gaps between them so that they could all share resources and thrive.
It had been surprisingly easy to get along with her.
But more than that, it had been far too easy to do other things with her.
Like share a bed.
Like become attracted to the smell of her fucking hair.
Like enjoy the feel of her when she laid on my chest, or wiggled back into me, seeking my nearness, demanding my attention.
She was smart and witty and interesting and sweet. But not so sweet that she was untouchable.
And, fuck, I wanted to touch.
I hadn't been prepared for the surge of attraction in my system to her, the way it got bigger and bigger until it was impossible to ignore, until I was moments from stripping her bare and having her right in that bed.
I tried to remind myself as I straightened and scrubbed the lower level that it was good we'd been interrupted, that it couldn't lead anywhere good to go to bed with someone I worked with, that a girl like her wanted nothing to do with a man like me, with a past like mine, with a job like mine.
It was better that things ended before they went too far, that we got back to our old lives, our old roles.
It would bring clarity to the whole situation.
I went back upstairs only after I was sure I worked off every bit of sexual frustration—hell, every bit of actual energy I had left—so that I could catch a little sleep before the sun came up, sure that I would be able to share the bed to get some warmth, but also keep my hands to myself.