Stuck With You

by Sara Cate

  I’m surprised to see that there’s already a rag-top Jeep Wrangler in the driveway, but my stomach flips when I see the Davidson County tag on it. Anyone else who comes to this cabin is either in Franklin or Sumter County. I know Ryder and I are the only two that lived in Davidson.

  A few minutes later I see him come around the corner of the house, leaning a shoulder against the upright holding up the roof of the wrap around porch. I think I stopped breathing for a second.

  They say no woman can resist a man in uniform, but I’d argue no woman would be able to resist Ryder Cox in a white T-shirt and faded jeans.

  I put my Jeep in park and wonder what in God’s name was wrong with me. I haven’t seen this man since before I graduated from college. Our encounter at the park last weekend was the first time in five years we’d even spoken to each other. But something about him was just…mesmerizing.

  Grabbing my cell phone and purse from the passenger seat, I jump out of the vehicle.

  “Hello, there,” he says, a rich timbre in his voice and a small smile on his face.

  “What are you doing out here?” I ask, climbing the steps onto the porch.

  He raises his eyebrows at my question, and I realize it probably came across as rude. “Mom called and asked me to come check on the cabin. You know, make sure things are working before the whole horde descends on this place tomorrow.”

  I feel my eyes narrow slightly. “When did she ask you this?” A suspicion is forming in the back of my mind.

  “She called last night and said she had planned to do it with your mom, but there was just too much other stuff to get done she couldn’t. I said it wouldn’t be a problem. I have a long weekend.”

  I nod, not making eye contact. Sounds to me like my mom and Mrs. Cox are playing some sort of matchmaking game.

  “Funny thing, ain’t it?” he says, a drawl creeping into his voice. “I don’t see you for a while, and now here you are again.”

  “This isn’t a big town, Ryder.” I pull out my keys and unlock the front door of the cabin without looking back at him. I am determined to keep my cool. No matter how attractive he is, I will not get left cold and lonely again like I did last time we were at this cabin together.

  We go around the house, flipping electrical breakers, turning water on for the toilets, cooling the fridge. We work in silence, only trading the few words we need to make sure everything is taken care of. The silence is amicable, but I feel tension growing in me the longer I’m around him.

  The day is getting darker as large thunderclouds form in the west. We are both in the kitchen, trying to figure out why the stove won’t light, when a large crash of thunder and the sudden roar of rain startle me.

  “I figured that was coming,” Ryder says. He’s stretched out on the kitchen floor and peering under the stove. His shirt had pulled up, revealing a soft trail of dark hair disappearing into the waistband of his jeans. I try not to stare at it, but it’s terribly distracting. “Hey can you hold the flashlight—”

  He sits up suddenly. “Oh shit.”

  I bend, taking the flashlight from him. “You okay?” I ask.

  His wide eyes find mine. “We left our windows down.”

  I swear vehemently, dropping the flashlight and turning to grab my car keys off the table.

  It has only been raining a few minutes, but already the rivers of water are pouring off the sides of the house in buckets. I squint as the stinging fat drops smack into my face. In moments, I’m soaked through, and my sun dress is clinging to me. My flip-flops are wet and I slide in them. They threaten to twist on my feet, but I stumble on.

  Overhead, the lightning and thunder are coming simultaneously in deafening cracks. Ryder is right behind me, diving for his Jeep and hand cranking his windows until they’re up. Mine are electric, but my sunroof has been open and my cup-holders are full of rainwater. I search in my car for something to dry them up with when he appears at my driver side door. “Leave it,” he says, yelling to be heard over the rain and thunder. “We need to get back inside before one of these trees gets struck by lightning.”

  I know that it’s a rare occurrence but a real threat that an exploding pine tree could impale both of us with flying shrapnel. I roll the windows up as fast I can and jump out of the car, trying to run for the house. My foot slides in my shoe and I fumble.

  Ryder grabs my hand and pulls me to my feet, then pulls me to him. He sweeps one arm behind my shoulder and the other arm under the backs of my legs and lifts me like I weigh nothing, his feet sure in his hiking boots as he carries me back toward the cabin.

  Inside, the chill hits me like a wall, and goosebumps break out over my whole body. I resist the urge to chatter as I drip my way to the kitchen, leaving a wet trail behind me.

  “Do you have any spare clothes in your car?” he asks.

  Fuck. “No, only shoes,” I mutter, glancing back at the puddles of water that fell off my sundress. “Do you?”

  His face twists in a wry smile. “No,” he says.

  My heart flips in my chest, thinking of him naked and wet. “There’s got to be something here,” I say, trying to push the image from my mind.

  “Yeah from when we were teenagers,” he laughs. “Let me see what I can find in the upstairs closet.” He eyes the lake forming by my feet. “You should get out of that dress before you warp the floorboards.” Then he turns and disappears into the back of the house.

  I take a deep breath, my teeth chattering against my will. My hands go to the large plastic buttons on the front of my dress, and I begin to open them, peeling the cold wet clothing from my skin. Under my bra, my nipples are erect from the cold.

  “Well, it’s not exactly high fashion, but I found some of Dad’s old T-shirts–”

  He breaks off as I yelp and try to cover myself. There’s no way I’ll get the dress back up with it being so wet. I grab at the tiny dish towel next to me on the counter. “Jesus, Ryder,” I spit out, my teeth clenched.

  “Jesus yourself, Giggles,” he says, his voice uncomfortable and shocked. “You’re just going to undress in the kitchen?”

  The towel is barely enough to cover my breasts, and my dress is sagging low on my hips from the weight of the water in the hem. He was right—I could have gone to the bathroom. “You could turn around or something,” I grind at him, trying to cover my embarrassment.

  His dark eyes widen and his gaze rakes over me. The goosebumps start again, but this time it’s not from the cold. I feel something tingle in my lower back and my legs ache slightly, like my knees want to go weak but don’t know if they have permission.

  He turns away, tossing the oversized T-shirt on the island counter behind him. “It’s going to be like a dress on you,” he says, carefully not looking at me.

  “Any shorts to go with that dress?” I ask, dropping my current clothing into a soggy pile on the floor.

  He shakes his head, still not looking. “But I think we can get the washer and dryer working, so we could toss stuff in real fast and dry if off.”

  I glance down at the poor sundress, streaked in mud from where I fell. “It’s going to need washing for sure,” I say. “You can turn around now, if you want.” Thankfully the shirt is long enough that it covers my butt and nothing is hanging out.

  He comes back into the kitchen to gather up my drenched clothes. He’s dressed in a pair of god-awful floral swim shorts that are a size too small for him. His chest is bare. I am barely able to silence my sudden intake of breath as I see the dark hair that dusts his perfect pecs and flawless abs. The dark trail disappearing into his shorts was just a tiny taste of this vision. His hips are slender but his thighs are muscular, pressing against the hideous floral fabric.

  I silently remind myself to get a grip when his gaze meets mine, and I can sense that there’s something going on behind his eyes. I can’t figure out what, but the wry quirk of his smile lets me know it's more amusement than anything else.

  “What?” I demand, flustered.
<
br />   “I don’t see you for four years, and now I’ve seen you twice in a week. And both times, covered in mud and soaking wet.” I wonder if I hear innuendo in his words or if my brain has just packed up and moved to the gutter without my permission.

  “Five years,” I mutter, pulling at the hem of the shirt to try make sure it covers as much as possible under his heated stare.

  Whatever was going on behind his eyes stills, and his expression creases into a frown. “Five years? Really?”

  I nod, biting my lip. “It was the year I graduated high school. That was five years ago this May.”

  He shakes his head. “I didn’t realize.” He takes a deep breath, seeming like he was trying to dispel the sudden discomfort that was in the air around us. He holds his hand out, clearing his throat. “Your dress. I’ll toss it in the wash. From the sound of the storm, we have at least another hour to wait before it slacks up. Might as well get the clothes clean.”

  “I can do it,” I say.

  “I don’t mind,” he insists. I hand it over in surprise, not sure if I can believe a man that offers to do my laundry for me.

  As he turns for the laundry room, I take a moment to appreciate the width of his shoulders. His torso tapers to a perfectly sculpted ass, still hot even tightly encased in those swim shorts that probably haven’t seen the light of day since at least the late 1990s.

  I shake my head and turn to glance outside, watching the rain rush off the edges of the house. The thunder and lightning continue to rattle the windows. I move to the living room and stretch out on the couch, my eyes drifting closed in the dimness as I listen to the rain that continues to batter the roof.

  I hear a floorboard creak and crack an eyelid. Ryder is standing above me, staring down at me. “Scoot over,” he says.

  “Why?” I challenge him. We used to bicker like this as kids. I could be nice and just move my feet, but something about the cabin has me reverting to old habits. Especially with him having no right to look as good as he does in those god-awful shorts and making my heart skip.

  “Because you’re taking up the whole couch and I want to sit down.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “There’s a chair right there,” I say.

  “Yeah, but I want to sit on a couch, not a chair.” He lifts my feet and I yelp in surprise as he sits, laying my lower legs across his lap. “Well, this is cozy,” he says, slumping and putting his head on the back. His eyes drift closed, but with his hands on my bare skin I’m not relaxed anymore. The contact has me feeling tense. I consider sitting up and pulling my legs away, but the warmth from his hands is comforting and I find that I like it.

  “So, tell me about yourself,” he says, his eyes still closed. He’s so casual about all this, it’s strange. The last time he touched me in any way, he didn’t speak to me for months after. It was weird. But now, like this, it’s like that other time beside the lake never happened. He’s acting like we’re nothing more than old friends, but the heat I saw in his eyes earlier hinted at possibly something more.

  My heart feels like it is rioting with all the confusing feelings, and I don’t know what to do or say, let alone what to expect from him next.

  “How’s Alexa?” I counter, saltily.

  He snorts a short laugh. “Oh, she’s long gone,” he says.

  I raise my eyebrows, staring at the ceiling. “Y’all seemed pretty serious there for a spell,” I say. “What happened?”

  “Things just…” He shrugs, like he’s a bit uncomfortable. “Things just didn’t work out. I thought I knew what I wanted and, as it turns out, I was wrong.”

  I push myself up on my elbows and give him a look of consternation. “I don’t see how,” I say. “She was practically a supermodel.”

  He lets his head fall to the side, his dark gaze finding mine. “Yes but, she wasn’t like—” He breaks off and looks away, clearing his throat. “She couldn’t fish worth a damn, and you know how I like to fish.”

  His hand tightens on my ankle and I try to ignore the delicious shiver that runs up my leg straight to my already fluttering heart. “So, you like a lady who can fish?” I ask, quietly, trying to break the silence ringing between us.

  “She doesn’t have to be a lady,” he says, his lip twisting into a bit of a grin. “She could just be a fun country girl in boots, for all I care.”

  I lay my head back down. It’s spinning with what I was sure was a hidden meaning in his words. Alexa was gone, her perfect bleached hair and her perfectly manicured nails hadn’t been enough to keep him interested. And now, he wants a woman who can fish.

  Funny story: I love to fish.

  We sit like that for another hour, until the timer on the dryer dings and our clothes are done. Outside, the rain has mostly stopped, and it’s safe to drive again. He hands me my dress and I’m grateful that it’s warm from the dryer, as the rain has brought a bit of a chill to the afternoon. I step into the bathroom to change my clothes, more mindful of his eyes this time.

  We walk out to our Jeeps, and for a moment stand awkwardly beside them.

  “Well,” I say, spinning my keys around my finger on the keyring, “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  He nods, then bites his lip like he wants to say something else. He steps forward and pecks a soft kiss on my cheek. I think he meant for it to be chaste, but the thrill that ran through my body was anything but. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says.

  I go to the driver side of my Jeep, unlocking the door. I find the old gym towel I keep in the back and spread it across the soaking wet driver's seat in hopes of maybe protecting my once-again clean dress. I’m getting ready to climb in when I hear him call my name.

  “Hey, Giggles? Geena?”

  I pause. There’s something in his voice that catches my attention.

  He steps around the front end of my car, his hands stuffed in his pockets and a look of uncertainty painted across his face. I’m not used to Ryder looking so uncomfortable. It’s an endearing look on him, to be honest.

  “I’m sorry, Geena.” He says it simply, like I’m supposed to know what he’s talking about.

  “Sorry for what?” I ask.

  “For what happened by the lake that year,” he says. He shakes his head and starts pushing the damp pine needles around with his feet. “I acted like an idiot, and you deserved better than a drunk grope in the dark and a seriously delayed apology.”

  I sigh. “It’s really okay,” I hear myself say. It’s not as okay as all that, but how am I supposed to answer such an apology? You broke my heart isn’t really the right response.

  He glances up, hope in his eyes. “You’re sure?” he asks, his voice still uncertain.

  I paint a reassuring smile on my face and nod. “Of course.”

  He nods, his hands still in his pockets. “So, we’re okay?”

  God, this man. “Yes, we’re okay.”

  “Cool.” The smile that spreads over his face is relieved, and I can see that some of the wariness from his eyes has faded. “You want me to go first or you go first?”

  I glance over at his Jeep and give him a mischievous grin. “Well, I have four-wheel drive, so if you need me to show you how it’s done—”

  He reaches out and punches me lightly in the shoulder. “You learned all your tricks from me anyway, Giggles,” he says. “Follow me out.”

  A few minutes later, I’m following him at a safe distance down the narrow dirt road. As we come to the bottom of the hill, I see his brake lights, and he comes to a stop. I lean out my window and try to glance around him.

  He gets out of his car and comes back to where I am. “The ford is flooded,” he says, propping his hands on his hips and staring into the distance like some kind of movie character.

  I place my own Jeep in park and pull the parking brake. “It’s too much to cross?” I ask, opening my door.

  “You tell me,” he says, “but I don’t think we should.”

  He’s right. The ford, which is usually easy enough to
cross, is turbulent with several feet of white water. “That’s a bit ridiculous,” I say, my own hands propped on my hips as I stare at it. “I didn’t think it rained that much.”

  “Must’ve been more upstream,” he says. He glances down at me. “I guess we could just stay the night at the cabin? It should be subsided by the morning.”

  I shake my head. “You’ll have to cancel all your dates tonight,” I say. I’m mostly teasing, but also definitely fishing for information on his current situation.

  “Well, shit,” he mutters, shaking his head. I can’t tell if he’s being serious.

  “I’ll head back up the hill,” I say. The ground is muddy and I don’t want my Jeep sinking by sitting still too long.

  I jump back into the driver’s seat, throwing the vehicle into reverse and deftly backing all the way back to the cabin. He follows a few moments later, having done a three-point turn at the bottom of the hill.

  I turn off the ignition and grab my purse, cell phone and keys from the vehicle. When I finally close the door, he’s staring at me.

  “What?” I ask. I feel like he’s been staring a lot today, but this is a wide-eyed stare with a fair amount of surprise layered in.

  “I’ve never seen anyone back all the way up a hill like that,” he says.

  “You mean you’ve never seen a girl do it,” I say.

  He shakes his head. “I’ve never seen anyone do it.”

  We head into the house. It’s still early in the evening, but with the dark clouds the rooms are gloomy. I pull out my phone and give my mom a quick call to let her know what happened and that Ryder and I would be staying during the night. She doesn’t sound too upset, but asks several times if I have everything I need. I patiently tell her I’ll make do—besides, if I don’t have it, there’s no getting it now.

  Ryder tosses his keys on the table beside the couch and disappears into the kitchen. I finish up my call, and as I’m hanging up, I hear cupboards opening and closing. Frowning, I drop my keys next to Ryder’s and wander into the kitchen as well. It’s dim, the light is that greyish blue you see right before the sun goes down, but I can clearly see Ryder digging through the pantry.