by L. P. Maxa
Lucy swung the overnight bag onto her shoulder, wishing she could swing it at him, then glanced around the kitchen. This might be an older house, but the man’s kitchen was to die for. White cabinets with glass doors contrasted with black countertops and chrome appliances. The counters were neat and uncluttered with only a toaster, knife block, and the latest and greatest coffeemaker sitting out.
Lucy wasn’t much of a cook beyond preparing boxed mac and cheese and the occasional scrambled egg. She had a drawer in the kitchen that held take-out menus for every restaurant on St. Magnus Island. But even she recognized the top-of-the-line six-burner gas stove that dominated one wall. She could imagine Noah standing there, shirtless, cooking, well… whatever he wanted to cook and offering her tastes of this and that from a wooden spoon. And once she’d tasted his cooking, then she would want to taste—
“We should settle the puppies and then I need to take Baby for a walk. I’m thinking my walk-in shower might be the best place for them. It’ll be easy for Chessie to get in and out of and easy to clean too. What do you think?”
Lucy nodded, partly grateful his attention to details had pulled her from her musings, and partly disappointed that she’d only reached the R part of what would have definitely been an X-rated fantasy. “Where does he sleep?” she asked, pointing to the giant canine.
“Normally, in here. I moved him to the bathroom earlier, but I’ll put him in my office. Speaking of which, I’ll give you the nickel tour of the house once we get the dogs squared away and I walk Baby.”
###
“You can sleep in here, and I’ll bunk in the office with Baby.” Noah held open the door to a bedroom dominated by a king-size platform bed. Instead of a headboard, the wall behind the bed had been covered with what appeared to be reclaimed barn wood. Simple rustic nightstands flanked each side of the bed and an industrial-style pendant light hung over each.
Lucy stepped in and held up her lantern to further illuminate the room. A navy and white duvet draped across the bed, and two solid navy pillows lined up like obedient solders against the barn wood. She turned and caught sight of a brown high-backed leather armchair and a simple chest of drawers in weathered wood. Atop the chest she could make out a grouping of photos.
If the kitchen had given her the impression he was a neat freak, the bedroom altered that notion. One nightstand held a haphazard pile of paperback books. Two pairs of shoes were piled beside the chair, and a sheriff’s department uniform lay in a heap in front of the open closet door.
“Show me your office,” Lucy said, wondering what the six-foot-plus man would sleep on. He pointed to a room at the other end of the hallway and she forged ahead to it.
This room hadn’t yet received the decorator’s touch. A worn sofa sat against one wall, and a computer desk sat opposite it. A bookcase in one corner was filled to the limit with books of all varieties, and an end table beside the sofa held several soda cans and a lamp with a crooked shade. She chuckled softly, feeling a little better about the clutter she’d let pile up in her house.
“Does that fold out?” she asked, pointing to the sofa.
“No. It’s not a sleeper.”
“Then I’ll stay in here. You can’t sleep on that. You’re too tall. I’ll feel awful if you end up with a backache because of me.”
“No, ma’am. You’re the guest and you get—”
“Please humor me. I feel bad enough that I’ve quadrupled the population of your home.”
“At least let me clean up a little.” He strode across the room and began to gather up the cans.
“Don’t. Please. Those don’t bother me.”
He continued to collect the cans, put them in a trash bin in the corner, then pulled a sheet, light blanket, and a pillow from a small closet in the hallway and stacked them on one end of the sofa.
“There’s only one bathroom. That’s where your dogs are. Baby and I will be at the other end of the hall. Yell if you need anything.”
The only thing Lucy needed right now was about forty-eight hours of sleep, and she had a sneaking suspicion she wouldn’t get it. She brushed her teeth and petted Chessie before stretching out on the sofa and covering herself with the blanket. She was too exhausted even to change into the lounge pants and t-shirt she’d brought for sleeping. Maybe tomorrow she could bathe. Maybe tomorrow…
Chapter Five
“Sit, Baby. Stay.”
Noah hated the thought of heading out into the ever-increasing rain and wind as Dolly approached the island, especially at half past three in the morning. But he had heard a loud crash, peered out his bedroom window, and saw a large tree uprooted in the neighbor’s yard. The sound of breaking glass left a sick feeling in his stomach.
He knew Edna Sloan had evacuated and knew her home had a large window right about where the top branches of the fallen oak lay. Noah had an extra sheet of plywood in his carport and could nail it over the window if it was broken. Edna didn’t need to return to any more damage than necessary.
“Go lie down,” he ordered. “I’ll be back soon.”
An hour later he returned from his successful repair mission, and Baby greeted him as he stomped his shoes on an old rug beside the back door.
“Do you always go out in the middle of the night during a hurricane?”
Noah looked up to see Lucy in the doorway. With bare feet and still wearing the clothes she had on earlier, her hair had come loose and was draped over her shoulders.
“I do when it’s needed. And this was needed. My elderly neighbor’s window was knocked out and I boarded it up.”
“So, you’re a hero, huh?”
“Nah. Just the right thing to do.”
“I’m sure Chessie thinks you’re a hero because you helped her with that last pup.”
“It was just the right thing to do,” he repeated as he peeled off his rain-soaked jacket and hung it on a hook by the back door. “And the other right thing to do is for us to get to bed.” He pushed past her and turned toward his bedroom before stopping abruptly and turning back to face her. “Our separate beds that is. In our separate rooms.”
He was grateful for the dim light afforded by the flashlight because he shook his head and cursed under his breath. Lucy was a knockout, and his body had taken notice and was particularly happy she was in his house, right down the hall from his bedroom, but this wasn’t the time to make jokes about sleeping together. She looked too damned appealing with her sleepy expression and tousled hair. And he wasn’t completely sure he could resist making a move on her if he remained in her presence much longer.
“I never thought we’d sleep anywhere but our separate beds.”
Well, damn. “Come on, Baby. It’s sleep time.” The dog trotted past him, his nails clicking on the hardwood floor. “’Night, Lucy,” he called out before shutting the bedroom door. Within minutes of sliding between the cool, crisp sheets he felt his eyelids grow heavy.
Hero? Hah. More like a damned idiot for bringing home a smoking-hot woman where they’d likely be stuck together for several days.
Chapter Six
“Lucy. Wake up. I need you to get up.”
Lucy rolled over and sighed. Noah was talking to her in her dream. He sounded worried. His tone was insistent and urgent. He must really want her. Yum. She was all in.
“Lucy,” he yelled. “Wake up.” She felt her shoulder shake hard. When she opened her eyes and looked up, giving what she hoped was a seductive smile, Noah stood over her with a flashlight. His hair stuck out on one side of his head, a shadow of whiskers darkened his jaw, and he was shirtless. A pair of shorts hung low on his hips and Lucy’s gaze slid over his chest to his abs and then down to the line of dark hair leading to the place she’d been heading in her dream.
“We’re under a tornado warning, and I need you to move to the bathroom.”
As she surfaced from the deep sleep, she began to hear the wind whistling through the house’s windows.
“Grab your shoes. I’ll bring
the pillow and blanket. Hurry. Please.”
Lucy stumbled toward the door, then paused. “The dogs,” she began.
“Are already in the bathroom, remember? Go, Lucy. Now.”
Dim light spilled from the bathroom into the hall courtesy of one of Noah’s lanterns. Lucy peered around the tiled room and saw Chessie and her pups still bedded cozily in the walk-in shower stall and Baby was curled up in the tub with his head resting on a teddy bear.
Noah tossed the pillow and blanket onto the floor, then motioned for her to sit. He darted out but returned quickly with a radio.
“Sounds like it’s on the north end of the island near Maritime Point,” Noah explained, sliding to the floor beside her. “I’m surprised you slept through all the storm noise.”
Lucy wasn’t surprised. Exhaustion had claimed her mere seconds after she stretched out on the sofa. The puppies’ birth had taken a toll on her, and now that the concern over them was behind her, another concern had replaced it.
“Folks, the weather service has cancelled the tornado warning, but Dolly is still beating us up. This is Boomer and Ace on Island Radio, broadcasting from our emergency shelter courtesy of generator power and lots of hot, black coffee.”
“That’s a relief.” Lucy literally heaved out a sigh.
“For now,” Noah replied. “The hurricane is still pounding the island. We have a long way to go.”
The radio announcer interrupted him with another announcement. “Here’s a report one of our listeners was crazy enough to bring by the station along with a box of doughnuts. They’re stale, but hey. He says the roof has been blown off the gas station at Spanish Moss Avenue and St. Magnus Way, and the village is flooding. Personally, I think this caller is nucking futz for staying on the island, much less going out in this mess.”
“Well, Boomer, we stayed. Does that make us nucking futz too?”
“Yes, Ace, it does. A couple of nucking futz guys who are shallow enough to want to keep their jobs.”
“That’s me. Shallow as the kiddie pool at the YMCA. Here’s more from Mr. Futz. Power lines down. Trees uprooted near the golf course. Street signs blown around and facing backwards. And he says there’s flooding on Beachside Drive.”
“That’s where I live,” Lucy whispered. A wave of despair washed over her, much like what she imagined the ocean waves were doing to her house. “You were right, and I was a stupid fool.” Her voice cracked on the last word, and her shoulders shook from her quiet sobs.
Noah inched next to her and brought her to his chest. His strong, bare chest.
“You’re not a stupid fool,” he reassured her. “And don’t think about the what if. Think about the what is. You’re safe. Chessie had her pups, and they’re all doing great.”
“But the flooding—”
“He didn’t say where the flooding is. The stretch of Beachside closer to the village is more prone to flooding. You’re farther north. Your house could be fine.” Noah’s voice sounded calm and comforting, in direct contrast to the storm outside and the tempest of emotions battering the inside of her head.
“It’s not even my house,” Lucy wailed. “What if something happens and I’m not there?”
The look Noah gave her was quizzical at best. “Then whose house is it?”
His tone sounded suspiciously accusatorial. “It’s my Aunt Ruth’s house. She’s living at New London Manor now and let me live in the house after I found my boyfriend screwing his secretary. How cliché is that? I mean who could be stupid enough not to know their boyfriend is banging someone else?” She didn’t expect him to answer since everyone knew how stupid she’d been. “Anyway, I needed a place to live when I quit my job and moved here from Atlanta. You didn’t think I was a squatter or something, did you?”
Noah lifted one shoulder in response.
“You did. That’s why you insisted I come here so you could get me out of the house you thought I was squatting in. Really? Call the assisted-living home and ask for Ruth Jansen. She’ll tell you I’m supposed to be there. I can’t believe you think I’m a criminal. Really?” she repeated. “Do I look like a criminal?”
Noah’s gaze traveled from her disheveled hair to her rumpled shirt and sweatpants before returning to meet her gaze.
“Don’t answer that.” She wished fire could shoot from her eyes. “I’m wearing clothes I’ve been in for days because of this damned weather. And the pregnant dog. And trying to decide if I left would I hurt Chessie. Shit happens.”
“Do you always babble like this?” One corner of Noah’s mouth lifted in a mischievous grin.
Lucy nodded. “Not always. When I’m mad or extremely upset. Or both.”
“Like now.”
“I’m sorry if my speech patterns offend you.”
Noah reared back. “Offended? It’s damn cute. You get all worked up and that’s when the truth comes out. That’s when your real passion shows.”
Before Lucy could reply, the radio announcers began yelling. “Reported sighting of a water spout off Heron Point heading toward the mainland. Go to your safe space now if you’re in its path.”
“That’s north of us, isn’t it?” Lucy asked before moving her knees to her chest, then pulling the blanket tight around her.
“It is, and unless it does a U-turn, we should be out of its path.”
“Well thank God for small favors.” Lucy heaved a huge sigh of relief for one bit of good fortune. “Oh, Chessie, I’m so sorry you have to… to….” Lucy was overcome with tears and couldn’t complete the sentence.
Noah slid closer, wrapped his arm around her and pulled her against the warmth of his amazing bare chest. Lucy sniffled, then angled her head back to look up at this man who’d played hero since he walked into her house. He dipped his head, licked his lips, and Lucy was certain he was going to kiss her.
She wanted the kiss. Was more than ready to unleash the coil of desire winding tight in her stomach in anticipation. Her eyelids closed and his warm breath washed over her cheek. She parted her lips slightly and waited.
Chessie wedged between them and began nuzzling Noah’s hand. Noah pulled away and wrapped his arms around the Beagle’s neck.
“Ah, girl, don’t worry. You’ll be okay. Baby and I will make sure of that.”
Chessie’s white-tipped tail wagged furiously, and she focused her attention on Noah. Lucy sat back, eyeing the pair. She’d been left again for another woman. But she couldn’t hate this one. Chessie still needed her, but only until she found her forever home.
Dogs might leave for a dog treat or a round of tummy rubs, but that was temporary. They’d come back. They loved unconditionally. Lucy remembered all too clearly why she had fostered a dog instead of signing up for an online dating service.
Chapter Seven
By noon, St. Magnus Island had said both hello and good-bye to Hurricane Dolly. While the damage Noah could see through his windows could have been far worse, the havoc the storm had caused would take weeks, even months to clean up.
After the tornado scare ended, he and Lucy had returned to their respective bedrooms. Baby had joined Noah, after refusing to sleep in the cramped bathtub any longer. Normally the gentle giant slept in a corner of the kitchen, but Baby made it clear he wasn’t leaving Noah’s side any time soon.
Baby had stood right outside the bathroom while Noah stripped, washed off in cold water from one of the pots he had filled before the storm, and then dressed in fresh clothes. Before he had let the dog outside, he had done a thorough search of the fenced backyard to make sure there were no hazards. Being this close to the marsh, Noah knew that the storm could have stirred wildlife to higher ground, and the last thing he needed was for Baby to encounter a snake or alligator.
While Baby romped, Noah pulled several gallon jugs of water from his stash in the shed attached to the carport. He also retrieved his propane camping stove and set it up on a weathered picnic table that had been left by the previous owner. He figured Lucy would want to wash up,
and knew she would prefer warm water to cold. And ranking near the top of his list of necessities, he needed to make coffee.
He had let Lucy sleep since they’d had their night interrupted by the tornado warning. In the aftermath, schedules would be nonexistent for the most part, especially since it wasn’t safe to be out on the roads. Noah had communicated with the sheriff’s department’s main office earlier and received a brief report of damage and learned repair crews were already out working to restore order to the island.
“Is it okay for Chessie to come out now?”
Noah whipped around and saw Lucy standing in the back door with the Beagle at her side. For the first time since they had met he got a good look at her, and she was even more beautiful in the light of day. She had tamed her hair a little, but she still wore the same clothes. Suddenly he wondered if a cold drink was more appropriate than hot coffee. He needed to lower his temperature back to the normal range.
“Sure. I’ve already brought her out while you were sleeping, and I checked the yard for anything that might be dangerous. You know, sticks and ga… er… garbage.” Noah caught himself before letting on about the possibility of rogue wildlife. “Let her come on out. I’m firing up this camp stove to heat water so you can wash up, and I’m going to make a thermos of coffee too. I don’t know about you but I need a caffeine fix.”
Lucy joined him on the patio, and Chessie ambled outside to visit a nearby bush. Noah handed Lucy a towel to wipe down a chair.
“It’s nice out here. Aunt Ruth’s house has a patio, but I’ve never used it,” she said, then quieted and glanced around for a few beats before saying, “Can I ask you something personal?”
Noah stopped scooping coffee grounds into a French press and turned to face her. “Depends on how personal.”
“Personal is probably the wrong word. Actually, it isn’t really personal, but something I’m curious about. If you don’t want to answer it’s—”
