Cabin Fever

by Felicity Heaton

  He bit his lip and suppressed a groan when she bent over and began crawling up the stairs in front of him. Unable to bear watching her backside wiggling with each step she took, he grabbed her waist and pulled her back up onto her feet.

  She leaned back against him, her body supple and warm beneath his fingers. His temperature soared and he blamed it on the alcohol, not the enticing feeling of her body so close to his. Her hair tickled his cheek as she leaned further back, her ear brushing against his jaw and her arms coming up. She reached over behind her and ran them through his hair.

  What the hell was she trying to do to him?

  Did she think that he had the self control of a saint?

  He struggled to shut down all the emotions she was stirring in him and fought against the pleading words that his desire was whispering. He manoeuvred her up the stairs, her occasional giggle breaking the heavy silence. He looked down at her, raised his hands a touch until his fingers were brushing the underside of her breasts. She didn't seem to notice. He told himself not to let her get to him. She was stone drunk and this was no time to shed what little chivalry he had left.

  No matter how much he wanted to.

  Silent thanks left his lips when they reached the top of the stairs and she leaned forwards, her body no longer pressed against his.

  Focusing on his job, he shut out all his feelings and tried to get her to her door as quickly as possible.

  She turned to face him on reaching it and for one heart stopping moment, he thought she was going to kill what little control he had over himself by asking him to come in.

  She smiled lopsidedly at him.

  "Get some rest,” he said and opened her door for her.

  Not waiting to see if she was going in, he went straight to his door and swiftly walked into his room. He closed the door and swallowed hard, fighting his desire to go back out into the hall and kiss her.

  He breathed a sigh of relief when her door closed.

  Flicking the light on, he went over to his bag where it was sat at the end on the bed and emptied it out. Clothes but no gun. He sighed and rubbed his temples, his head splitting. He didn't feel safe without a gun under his pillow and his hand resting on it all night.

  He turned when a loud thud came from Kate's room and barely managed to stop himself from going to check on her. It was bound to end in disaster if he did. By now, she probably would've wrestled most of her clothes off.

  He groaned at the visual and the way his fingers echoed with how good it had felt to touch her.

  Packing his things away, he put the bag down on the floor at the foot of the bed. He lay back on the bed and stretched out, listening to her.

  Closing his eyes, it wasn't long before he'd fallen asleep.

  Chapter 8

  Kate lay on her back, trying to gather her head and stop it from pounding. She could hear her blood rushing around in the silence. She groaned and rolled onto her side. Her stomach turned and growled, and she clutched at it. How much had she drunk last night?

  Her stomach rolled again.

  Clearly too much.

  She closed her eyes and groaned again, but this time with embarrassment as she remembered Jack helping her up the stairs. Crawling up the stairs had been bad enough, but it was made far worse when he'd come up behind her and assisted her. Maybe not worse.

  Her awkwardness faded when the feeling of his body close behind hers and his warm hands against her sides came back too. She heated through just thinking about it and a smile spread across her lips. It had felt so damn good to have his hands on her.

  She groaned again. What the hell did he think of her now though?

  Her mind raced to recall the rest of the night and she hoped that she hadn't come onto him. It had crossed her mind more than once during their journey up the stairs. Please say she hadn't actually gone through with it. Her heart thundered as she struggled to remember. She sat up in bed, holding her stomach and staring at the door as though it was going to jog her memory for her.

  She hadn't. Thank God for that. A little respect kept then.

  Slowly getting out of bed, she put fresh underwear on and tugged yesterday's jeans back on. She accompanied it with a little sky blue sweater. Her stomach rolled again and then growled, but this time it was definitely hunger she was feeling. The thought of some toast, a cup of tea and some painkillers was like heaven.

  Gritting her teeth as she put her socks on, she checked her ankle quickly before finishing slipping the sock over it. It didn't look as bad today. She hoped that her foolish attempt to walk down the mountain yesterday hadn't damaged it any more than it already was.

  She hobbled out into the hall and gradually made her way down the stairs. Her head was killing her. She leaned hard into the wall as she took each step with careful consideration. It wasn't just her ankle slowing her down. She'd never felt so rough after a night of drinking. She swore that she hadn't drunk that much either.

  Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she frowned when she saw that there were more logs stacked beside the fireplace and the fire was roaring. She moved to the table and then paused, listening for a sign of Jack. She craned her neck to see into the kitchen and couldn't find him there. Was he still asleep? But he must have bought the logs in and got the fire going.

  A noise behind her made her turn sharply and her heart jumped into her mouth at the sight of him.

  He was standing on the bottom step of the stairs, staring at her with intense eyes that looked as black as midnight from this distance. His dark hair was wet and as he rubbed a towel against it, little drops ran down the side of his face. Her breathing became laboured as she followed a drip down to his neck and then her eyes shifted of their own accord to his chest. The tight black thermal top he was wearing left nothing to the imagination and as he lowered the towel and took a step towards her, his muscles bunched and shifted beneath it, as though it was his skin. Her heart pounded in her ears, making her head ache even worse, and her mouth turned dry.

  She raised her eyes to meet his and went to take a step towards him, but ended up almost knocking the two wine glasses from last night off the table. He was by her side in the blink of an eye, his hand gently holding her arm and steadying her. She trembled and stared at his hand where it supported her, fingers closed lightly around her arm. Lifting her head, she looked into his eyes and was lost. Their hazel depths sparkled at her with concern.

  "You should rest up,” he whispered, his eyes never leaving hers.

  He was so close to her, and damn if he wasn't more tempting now than he had been last night. She swallowed, unable to move her eyes away from his and finding it impossible to speak.

  She still stared at him as he led her around to the couch and sat her down on it, lifting her legs and turning her so she was reclining on it. He checked her ankle, fingers probing gently and a frown marrying his brows. He looked at her and smiled. She took it as a good smile, one that was supposed to tell her that she was on the mend. She smiled at him, wishing she could say something. He was probably starting to think she was crazy, just sitting here staring at him.

  "I'll fix some breakfast.” He stood.

  "Jack?” she said, catching his hand and swallowing hard at the feel of it in hers. She stared at their joined hands and then let go, looking up at him. “Toast for me."

  "Feeling a little rough?” He smiled and she nodded. “I think it's all we've got anyway."

  Listening to him walk into the kitchen with a tune on his lips, she frowned. How come she was sitting here feeling as though she'd been smacked on the head with a sledgehammer and he didn't seem one bit affected by all the drinking last night?

  She winced when she moved and her ankle throbbed with pain. This was just what she needed. A sore head, a delicate stomach and now her ankle was aching. Getting to her feet, she hobbled into the kitchen and smiled at the sight of Jack spreading the toast.

  "Found something edible then?” she said, walking to the kettle and switching it on.

/>   "Marmalade, or whatever you yanks like to call it.” He gave her a little smirk.

  If he was feeling as rough as her, he was doing a good job of hiding it. He looked as though he'd just finished a nice morning stroll and it was a fine summer's day outside with not a cloud in the sky, not that he'd just woken up from a night of drinking to a blizzard.

  "You're horribly chipper.” She grumbled the words.

  "Sorry. I guess I've got the stomach for wine.” He shrugged and pushed a plate towards her. She stared at it and her stomach gurgled loud enough that it got an amused smile from him. “I can fix you plain toast if you'd like?"

  "No need, really.” She took a small bite out of the corner of one of the pieces of toast. It was sticky and sweet, and probably just the sugar rush she needed.

  She took two mugs down from the cupboard and put a tea bag in both, not bothering to ask him if he wanted tea or not. She moved across the room and gave an awkward look to the drawer that Jack was standing in front of as he put more bread into the toaster.

  "Can I ... um...?” She pointed to the drawer.

  He stepped aside and leaned against the counter. She opened the drawer and smiled at the sight of the painkillers. Getting a couple out of the pack, she noticed the wet towel on the work surface next to Jack and looked at him. His hair was still wet, all tousled and enticing her to run her fingers through it. She gave him a smile, hoping to cover her thoughts and excuse herself for staring at him. It was hard not to when he looked like this.

  Going back to the kettle when it had finished boiling, she filled the two mugs to the brim with water and pushed the teabags around with a spoon. She looked at Jack again while she waited for it to brew. He was spreading his own toast now. She took up hers and ate it in silence, trying to think of something to say that would make her feel less uncomfortable. It wasn't the silence between them making her that way. It was just how she felt around him since last night. She felt as though she needed to apologise and clear the air. She wanted to know what he thought of her now.

  She removed the teabags from the mugs and tried to find the courage to speak.

  "I ... um ... last night ... I think I drank too much."

  His eyes came up to meet hers and they shone with the amused smile on his lips. “That's an understatement."

  "It is?” she said, mild panic filling her. “Oh God, I suppose it is. If I said anything ... or you know ... I don't think I did, did I?"

  He laughed and shook his head. “Don't worry about it. All that happened was you were a little worse for wear and I helped you upstairs. You didn't try anything on, if that's what's got you scared."

  Her eyes widened. She wanted to die again.

  "I don't normally get drunk like that. I ... I'm sorry for being such a pain."

  "No need to apologise, Kate,” he said and she melted over the way her name sounded when he said it. It was gentle and soft, reassuring. He looked out of the window and her eyes drifted there. “It's not quitting, is it?"

  She sighed and stared at the white world outside the window. While the snow was lighter now, Jack was right, it was showing no sign of letting up. She glanced at the door and hobbled over to it. She could barely see the mountains through the snow. Her eyes dropped. It covered the porch and she couldn't make out where the chopping block was in the small clearing.

  "We'll need to take stock of food and how much wood we have.” Jack tried to get the reality of the situation to sink in for her so they could start planning what they needed to do in order to keep going for the next week.

  She nodded in agreement.

  "Like I said, we didn't bring much food. We had only just arrived and then Nick crashed the party. It's the first holiday I've had in years and he ruined it.” She frowned out of the window at the world.

  Jack smiled at the fact that she didn't like her stepbrother and finished off his toast.

  "Well ... let's account for what we do have.” He looked around at the cupboards and the refrigerator. When he'd been trying to find the bread this morning, he'd noticed how bare the kitchen was. Clearly Kate was telling the truth when she'd said that they hadn't brought much food with them. They'd probably intended to go back down into town and restock once they were settled in.

  She bent over and he raised a brow at the sight of her, pert backside raised into the air and long dark hair falling down over her face. He sipped his tea and cocked his head to one side, giving himself a moment to drink in how good she looked before he got down to business.

  He took the cupboard behind him. There were a few packs of pasta in it and a few jars and cans.

  Kate made a list of everything they came across and frowned occasionally when she found food that was out of date.

  "This must have been left over from my last family holiday,” she said, placing something over in the corner of the work surface.

  "You know, this apparently went out of date six years ago.” Jack stared at the bottom of a can and then arched a brow at her.

  "Worse than I thought,” she said with a smile as she took it off him, holding it at arms length as though it was diseased, and then threw it into the bin.

  "Best place for it.” He grinned at her and then returned his attention to the cupboard.

  When they were done, she handed him the list. She had been right. There wasn't much food in the house, but between two of them it would be enough to keep them going for a few days provided they rationed it.

  "That's the food sorted. How about wood and things? Is the electric run off a generator?” Jack asked as he looked at the appliances in the kitchen.

  "No. We're mains electric and water. Dad wouldn't have it any other way. We have a propane tank on the other side of the cabin for gas and things. It should be full. Dad said he'd take care of it before we got here."

  He looked out of the window and noticed that there was less snow than he'd expected to see. The wind must have forced it into the woods, leaving the rear porch and the open area around it covered in only a foot of snow.

  "Wood?” he said.

  "Um ... I chopped enough to last the weekend when we arrived. There are a few logs in the store, but we'll probably need to get more. There's an axe in the storage locker, and snow shovels, too."

  "Okay ... sounds like you guys come prepared up here.” He smiled at her and then walked over to the door.

  He turned the key in the lock and went to open it.

  "Where're you going?” She frowned at him

  "We could use some more wood.” He shrugged. “Figured you wouldn't be up to it with that ankle of yours."

  He looked out at the snow as it continued to fall steadily and then down at his clothes. His thermal top and jeans weren't going to provide much protection against the weather. When he'd gone out this morning, it had been freezing, even with his jumper on.

  "Do you keep any waterproofs? Thermal ones would be good,” he said and she looked pensive for a moment and then nodded.

  "Dad had some. I'll go see if I can find them."

  He followed her out of the room and thought over everything. The lack of food wasn't good. It meant they had precious few days to either get in contact with the rangers or for her ankle to heal enough to get down the mountain. Having seen the state of the road firsthand, he wouldn't risk driving down it, not unless he was forced to.

  He'd prefer to get in touch with the rangers and check that Nick was still around in town.

  He didn't know what he'd do if Nick was gone.

  Kate walked into the room nearest the stairs and pulled the box of waterproofs out. She tipped it up on the bed and searched through them. He leaned against the door frame, watching her.

  "Here.” She held the jacket up to her body as she turned to face him and then smiled as he raised a brow.

  Jack looked at the green and black waterproofs. They were far from the height of fashion and were horribly reminiscent of things that he'd had to wear in the past.

  "They'll do,” he said with a pained
look that had her giggling.

  Taking the jacket and trousers from her, he pulled them on over his jeans and t-shirt, and felt like the Michelin Man when he was done.

  "You look...” Kate started and then giggled. She put her hand over her mouth as he gave her a stern look.

  Letting her lead him down the stairs, he glanced out of the window as he passed it and saw that the storm was still going strong and, if anything, the snowfall was starting to become denser.

  Chapter 9

  Grabbing her skiing waterproofs from where she'd left them after she'd managed to strip them off the other night, she watched Jack walk into the kitchen as she put them on. When she had finally succeeded in getting her socks and boots on over her bad ankle, she followed him out onto the porch. Pulling the key to the storage locker out of her pocket, she unlocked it and handed him the axe.

  Jack held it between his knees by the handle as he slipped a pair of gloves on.

  It was cold out. The wind was beginning to pick up and she could see her breath in the air. The snow was falling faster again now, but hopefully the direction of the wind would hold and this area of open ground wouldn't get as bad as it was outside the front of the cabin. Her eyes ran over the woods as she stood in the snow on the porch. The trees nearest to them were bare, their leaves long fallen, and the wind was stirring the snow that lay on the ground until it looked as though there was a fine mist above it.

  At times like this, she felt as though there was nothing for miles around, at least nothing but trees and open mountains.

  "It always looks creepy at this time of year,” Kate said and moved to stand beside Jack as he looked at the forest.

  Her father had always wanted to go for walks in it but she'd been scared of going in, even when she was with him. She was still scared. She'd been on hunting trips with her father sometimes and had seen the dangerous wild animals that lived in the mountains, and she'd heard the tales of hikers that had been attacked.