by Kate L. Mary
Lucy’s hands trembled as she pulled the sweater over her head, and when she went for the second shirt I wasn’t sure where to look or what to do. I kept my eyes down, focused on the hideous burgundy pattern of the couch, but no matter what I did I couldn’t completely block out her creamy white skin. She held the shirt close to her body, and the little knife she’d tried to kill me with stuck out of her pocket, a reminder that she wouldn’t go down without a fight. Not that I had any intention of doing anything.
When I finally looked up, a jolt shot through me that went straight to my groin. She wasn’t wearing a bra. She hadn’t been earlier either, but I’d been so worried about both her injury and the dwindling fire that I’d barely noticed—or at least I’d been able to convince myself that I barely noticed. Now that I knew she wasn’t in any imminent danger of bleeding to death, it was impossible not to stare at the swell of her breasts, just visible above her crossed arms. It was maddening, and so distracting that I was having a difficult time focusing on anything else.
“Don’t you have a bra you can put on?” I snapped.
Lucy jerked back at my harsh tone and I let out a deep breath. It was the first time I’d raised my voice to her since I’d arrived, I’d been trying so hard to come across as non-threatening, and I knew I needed to cool it. I wanted her to trust me.
“A what?” she whispered after a few seconds, her voice trembling slightly.
My gaze moved up to meet hers. Why did the knowledge that she didn’t even own a bra make me so crazy?
“Never mind,” I said gruffly. “Just keep yourself covered.”
Lucy held the shirt closer to her body as I unwound the bandages. It wasn’t easy, and more than once as she shifted her arm to give me better access, the firm roundness of her breast was exposed to me. My blood grew hotter with each passing second and I had to work hard to keep my brain focused on what I was doing.
Once the bandages had been pulled away, I hoisted myself off the couch, groaning just a little. My pants had shrunk a few sizes since I sat down, and the need for release was so intense that just walking was painful.
“I’m going to clean it, then redress it with new bandages. We can boil these to reuse tomorrow,” I called over my shoulder as I headed into the kitchen. “Then I’m going to get some rest. You think your uncle will mind if I take his bed tonight? I had a peek in the bedrooms, and it looks a hell of a lot softer than anything I’ve slept on over the last ten years or so.”
Now I was not only exhausted, but desperate to put some space between myself and the beautiful woman in the other room. The things going through my head at the moment were wrong on so many levels. For her, for me, for the uncle who was out there somewhere, possibly lost in the storm and freezing to death. I needed to get a grip.
“No. He wouldn’t care,” Lucy said, even though her tone was swimming with uncertainty.
“Good,” I replied, more to myself.
I pulled out the bottle of vodka that her uncle used for first aid, and even though I knew I should save it for emergencies, I took a big swig right out of the bottle. It burned going down, but the familiarity was comforting and I needed to relax. I took a second drink, allowing it to warm me. It had been years since I’d had alcohol, and I could feel the effects of the liquor almost right away. Back before all this started it would have taken a hell of a lot more to get a buzz going, especially during my Marine days, but now I was like a teenager sneaking his first sip of alcohol. It went straight to my head.
When I finally managed to force myself to go back into the other room, Lucy pressed the shirt closer to her body. I pretended not to notice, but it was all I could think about as I lowered myself onto the couch at her side. I poured some vodka onto a cloth and cleaned her wound, feeling like an ass when she winced in pain.
The wound didn’t look too bad. The blood had started to congeal and parts had already begun to scab over. Now that it wasn’t fresh and I had a chance to really look it over, I realized it wasn’t nearly as bad as I had originally thought.
“It’s going to leave a pretty nasty scar, but it should heal okay as long as we keep it clean.” I screwed the lid back on the bottle, then wrapped the clean bandage around her, keeping my eyes as far north as possible—it was probably the hardest thing I’d ever done. When I was finished, I practically jumped to my feet. “You can put your shirt back on.”
I headed to the kitchen while Lucy eased the shirt over her head. Behind me, I heard her wince in pain, but I kept walking. If I looked back now I’d most likely get a look at her breasts and I was having a hard enough time not thinking about them. It was best to keep walking.
Lucy watched me cross the room as I came back out with a bucket of water. I tossed the rags into the pot that hung over the fire and poured water on top of them, frowning when I realized it probably wasn’t going to work the way I wanted it to.
“Not sure if the fire will get hot enough to boil the water, but it’s worth a shot.” Shit. No matter how tired I was or how much I wanted to be alone right now, I was going to have to stay up. The fire would go out if I left it unattended. “Some of this wood might be dry in a couple hours, then we can make it hotter,” I said as I dropped into the chair and leaned my head back.
“I thought you wanted to go to bed,” Lucy said.
“Have to take care of the fire.” My eyes were already closed and through the haze of sleepiness a dozen naked Lucy’s danced across my vision. I was going to have some very graphic dreams tonight.
“I can do that.”
I shook my head, both in response to her statement and in an attempt to banish the images from my head. “No, I’m good. I’ll just rest for a bit, then take care of it.”
“Sawyer.”
The sound of my name on her lips went straight to my crotch, but I couldn’t stop a smile from curling up my lips. She had been so scared of me earlier that she’d nearly stabbed me in the back—literally—and now she was saying my name in a stern tone that reminded me of how Mollie had sounded when she’d thought I was doing something idiotic. Did this mean Lucy was starting to trust me just a little bit?
I lifted my head and cracked one eye, grinning in her direction. “That’s the first time you’ve said my name.”
The smile she gave me in return was hesitant, but I could tell that some of her earlier uncertainty had melted away.
“If you’re tired, go to sleep,” she said gently. “I can take care of the fire.”
The longer I held her gaze the more a flush spread across her cheeks. She looked away, and something about how her hair fell across her forehead looked almost erotic. Damn. I was bad off if she could get me excited with just a turn of her head. I needed some time alone. Maybe once I’d gotten some relief and a good night’s sleep I would have more control over my body. A guy could dream.
“I guess you’re right,” I said, pulling myself to my feet. I’d only taken one step though, when the memory of that knife slammed into me. “You’re not going to try to kill me in my sleep with that little knife, are you?” I asked, looking over my shoulder with my eyebrows raised.
Lucy’s hand went to her pocket, but she shook her head. “I won’t try to kill you as long as you live up to your end of the bargain.”
“Fair enough.” I rolled my neck from side to side, wincing when it cracked, then headed for the bedroom that belonged to her uncle. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Goodnight,” Lucy whispered behind me.
The second I was in the room with the door shut, I let out a deep breath. Shit. Even though this house was like a mansion compared to my little shit hole of a cabin, I had to get out of here. I would never leave Lucy to fend for herself, but the second her uncle got back I was gone.
I had no clue if she was feeling the same attraction that I was, but I did know that I couldn’t stick around when I was feeling like this. I’d tried romance during the apocalypse and had no interest in taking on that kind of responsibility again.
/> Chapter 6
LUCY
Once the door to Uncle Seamus’s room was shut, I leaned back and let out a deep breath. The events of the day had been unexpected to say the least, but now that the initial shock and fear had worn off, I was starting to wonder if it was a good thing. Sawyer seemed nice enough, and he didn’t act dangerous. I’d even tried to kill him and all he’d done was try to reassure me that everything was going to be okay. That had to be a good sign.
At this point I’d pretty much accepted the fact that Uncle Seamus wasn’t coming back. It hurt, so much that I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me, but I had to be realistic. I was alone in this world, and it seemed like Sawyer was too. He’d admired the cabin and the stew, and with this storm he might not be able to get back to his place for weeks. Maybe longer. We could help each other.
Plus, there were other things. The memory of how it had felt when his knuckles brushed my breasts caused warmth to spread through me. Just thinking about his cool blue eyes made my stomach flutter. He was big and broad, with arms that could handle the workload left behind by my uncle. And how would it feel to have those arms around me? Sawyer was rugged and handsome. Exactly the type of hero I’d imagine would swoop in to save me.
But that was crazy. This wasn’t one of the romance novels Uncle Seamus had brought me. Sawyer was not my hero and I needed to stop thinking about him like that. We’d just met and I knew nothing about him. I couldn’t let his smile or soft, blue eyes disarm me.
I had to be diligent and stay alert until I knew for sure that this man meant me no harm.
I woke in the middle of the night, shivering from head to toe. My skin was icy and covered in goose flesh. I pulled the blanket up to my chin, but it didn’t help. My mind was fuzzy, and even though I was freezing, I couldn’t get my brain to focus enough to figure out why. I curled into a ball and pulled the blanket tighter around my body, then drifted back to sleep.
“Lucy.”
Sawyer’s voice broke through my dreams and I woke with a start. I bolted upright, alarm pulsing through my body as his huge form hovered over me. He was so close.
Why was he in my room?
That’s when it hit me. I wasn’t in my room. I was on the couch and the fire had died down until it was nothing more than a few glowing embers. The room was cold and so was I. More than cold, actually, I was shivering.
“Crap,” I said, trying to get up. “I forgot about the fire.”
Sawyer’s hands gripped my shoulders and he pushed me back down. “Forget it. The wood is still too wet. I woke up freezing and came out to check, but of course there was nothing I could do. Your teeth were chattering in your sleep.”
Goose bumps covered every inch of my body and I pulled the blanket back up to my chin. It didn’t help a whole lot. “It’s freezing.”
“I know, scoot over.”
I did as I was told without giving it much thought, and Sawyer climbed onto the couch next to me. I stiffened when he reached for me, my breath catching in my throat. Even when he had pulled my body against his, I couldn’t make myself calm down.
“Relax,” he whispered, spreading another blanket over us. “Body heat is the best way to keep warm.”
“Body heat,” I repeated uncertainly, scooting myself closer to him. “Like this?”
“Yeah. Well, the best way is to get naked, but I have a feeling that might be a little much for you.” He chuckled quietly as he slipped his arm around my shoulders, and even though my stomach twisted and my face got warm, I found myself laughing with him.
Sawyer settled into the couch and somehow I found my head resting on his chest. He was right. I was warmer within seconds. We didn’t say a word after that, and only minutes later his breathing slowed and grew heavy. But I stayed awake, too focused on the warmth of the man who was pressed against me to allow myself to fall asleep. When I inhaled, his masculine scent seeped inside me. It was earthy and strong. Like the outdoors, only better. Between that and the comfort of having his arm around my shoulders, I was able to slowly relax. It was nice having him so close. Plus, it was the first time anyone had bothered to hold me since my mom died when I was nine years old.
At first when I opened my eyes, I was sure that the day before had been a dream. Then I rolled onto my side and the low throb in my shoulder increased until it became a deep burn. I twisted back the other way, hoping to shift the weight of my body off my injury, but my mind was only partly focused on the pain. The rest of my brain was thinking about him. Sawyer.
He’d swooped in and saved me, just like the hero in one of the many books I’d read over the years. I’d had the same thought before falling asleep, but I’d been tired and too confused to allow myself to embrace it. But I couldn’t ignore it now, not after he’d come to my rescue a second time.
Now I was fairly certain that I could trust this man. He hadn’t dragged me into the house and attacked me, and he’d been a gentleman when he’d cleaned me up. But he was still a man, and my whole life Seamus had warned me about men and what they were capable of. I’d read it in books, too. My uncle had never been very discerning when it came to the novels he brought home. Of course, maybe that had been the point. Maybe he had wanted me to read about the things that could happen so I’d know he was telling the truth and not just trying to lock me away from the world like some post-apocalyptic Rapunzel. Minus the insanely long hair.
But back to Sawyer…
Yes, he’d been a gentleman yesterday, and even last night when we’d curled up on the couch together to keep warm. He’d even brought me in here sometime in the middle of the night and put me to bed. Nothing had happened still. That felt like a sign that not all men were evil. Wasn’t my Uncle Seamus proof of that as well?
I was fully dressed when I slid out of bed—another sign that Sawyer didn’t have bad intentions—but I still held my breath when I cracked my door, easing it open gently so I didn’t alert Sawyer to the fact that I was awake. The sound of floorboards creaking in the other room was the only indication that he was up, because otherwise the house was eerily silent.
It was warm though, meaning sometime in the night he had built the fire up. At least all the work I’d done to drag wood inside the house hadn’t been for nothing.
Suddenly, the reality of what had happened the day before hit me and the slight ache in my shoulder didn’t feel so slight anymore. It throbbed with the pounding of my heart, which was working twice as hard.
If Sawyer hadn’t shown up when he did, I might have died out there. I couldn’t believe it. I’d spent almost my whole life out here and I knew how to live off the land, but somehow I’d made a mistake so big it could have cost me my life. It hadn’t been because I wasn’t capable either, because I was. The mistake had happened because I’d never had to do all of this alone before, and it had ended up being too much for me. Between taking care of the animals and cooking meals, hunting, washing clothes, chopping wood, and keeping up with the little things that needed to be done around the house, something was bound to slip through the cracks. There was simply too much work for one person.
Seamus had to come back. If he didn’t, I wasn’t sure what would happen to me. Maybe I’d adjust, or maybe I’d forget to do something like chop wood again, only next time a handsome stranger might not stumble upon me in the woods.
My heart was still beating harder than usual as I headed down the hall, and it only got worse when I rounded the corner and caught sight of Sawyer. I stopped dead in my tracks, my breath catching in my throat. He stood in front of the fire wearing a pair of pants that I recognized as my uncle’s, only they were too big and hung low on Sawyer’s hips, and he was naked from the waist up. My gaze moved over him slowly, from his broad shoulders to his muscular back, then down to his waist, and my heart beat faster.
Then he turned to face me and I couldn’t hold in my gasp. The front of him was like a piece of art. The way the flicker of the fire played across his sculpted chest and stomach, and how is arms
flexed when he balled his hands into fists. The pants hung low enough that a tuft of brown hair was visible a few inches below his belly button, and when my gaze moved over it, a flush spread across my cheeks.
The longer I stared, the hotter my face became. I was an avid reader, but the images my mind had conjured up of what a man looked like had been so different from this. Maybe it was because the only other man I’d had been around was my uncle, who was so much older and covered in gray, wiry hair. He was lean from hard work, but soft at the same time, and somehow I’d imagined that was what all men looked like.
Only Sawyer didn’t. He was… Hard. Sculpted. Like someone had carved him out of stone, taking their time to make sure every inch of the statue was perfectly molded.
Sawyer tilted his head when my eyes met his and the hair on my scalp tingled. It felt like he was trying to read my mind.
He looked away and swallowed a couple times, and it seemed like he was trying to figure out what to say to me. “Sorry,” he finally said, his voice low and slightly husky. “It’s been a while since I had clean clothes and you have such a good set-up here. I figured I’d take advantage. I hope that’s okay.”
I nodded as I forced my legs to move. Even though I tried to keep my focus on something else, I couldn’t help sneaking a peek at his stomach out of the corner of my eye.
When our gazes met again I realized that Sawyer was grinning. Heat rushed to my cheeks, which I knew had to be as pink as a rose. He’d caught me staring, but at least he wasn’t angry. If anything, the twinkle in his eyes made it seem like he was amused.
“It’s fine,” I said. “Make yourself at home.”
“Thank you.” Sawyer was still smiling, and even though I squirmed, I got the feeling he liked knowing that I was looking at him.
