by Devney Perry
Coby was a lucky little boy to have such a dedicated uncle. The pride and joy in Beau’s voice was unmistakable. On top of everything he was doing for me, the love he had for his nephew endeared me to him even more. He wasn’t just absurdly handsome.
He was also a good man.
Which meant if he showed even the slightest interest in me, I was screwed. Could someone like him ever want someone like me? We were from two different worlds. But what if—
I refused to go down that “what if” road. The one I was on was bumpy enough.
“It’s wonderful that you and your family are there to support your sister. Has she dated anyone since Coby’s dad?”
He growled. Actually growled, like a jungle cat.
Who did that? I struggled to choke back my laughter. “Did you just growl at me?”
“Maisy has enough going on without a man in her life. She runs the motel and she has Coby. If she needs anything, she’s got her family and good friends. She doesn’t need a guy coming in and messing any of that up.”
“I’m not saying she needs a man. I’m a firm believer that women are fully capable of taking care of themselves. I’m just asking if she’s dated. She might not need a companion but maybe someday she’ll want one. Have you ever thought of that?”
He growled again, and this time, I couldn’t keep my laughter at bay—though I quickly learned to try harder. My ribs and bottom lip screamed in protest.
“No more growling,” I said. “It makes me laugh, which hurts. You promise to use your words from now on and I’ll promise to never bring up Maisy’s dating life.”
“Agreed,” he rumbled.
I grinned and turned my eyes back to the road. Beau’s protectiveness of Maisy was another appealing quality. He was the defensive big brother and no one would ever be good enough for his little sister. My older brothers had tried to give me that. What would my life be like had I let them in?
I’d never know. I doubted I’d ever be close with my family again.
As Beau maneuvered the truck through a series of sharp twists and bends in the road, I sat silently, staring out into the darkness. The events from the day were catching up with me. My body’s aches and pains were becoming insistent and my head was fuzzy with exhaustion.
With Boone’s warmth at my side and Beau’s comforting smell filling the air, I started to drift off. I fought it for as long as I could but the gentle swaying of the truck lulled my weary body to sleep.
“Sabrina.” Beau’s voice echoed in my dream.
His thick fingers brushed my hair back and trailed across my shoulder. I hummed as his touch sent tingles down my arm. If only I could feel those fingers against my bare skin. I willed Dream Beau to pull back the cotton of my shirt and trace my collarbone.
“Sabrina, we’re here,” Dream Beau said again.
Wait. Not a dream. I jerked awake and winced at the sudden movement.
Curses.
I hoped I hadn’t been snoring. Or, worse, moaning Beau’s name.
“Sorry, I fell asleep.” I looked toward my window and wiped away the drool at the corner of my mouth.
“No problem. I bet you’re wiped.”
“We’re here?” Ahead of us, I saw a clearing but no sign of an outpost, just a tiny shed at the end of the road.
“Yep.”
“Where’s the outpost?”
His finger pointed to the shed. “Uh, right there.”
“That little tiny building?”
“No. That’s the biffy. The outpost is right in front of us.”
My stomach dropped. I had no idea what a biffy was but it didn’t matter. Beau’s words were clear. The outpost was the shed and my new, dreaded home.
Even in the dark and from a distance, I could tell there was only one room. Did that mean one of us would be sleeping on the floor? What about a bathroom? And laundry? I wasn’t a gourmet cook by any means but would there be some place to prepare my meals?
For once in my life, I had no idea which question to ask first.
I tensed as Beau parked by the front door. I stayed in the truck, per his instruction, as he went to turn on the power.
When he was done, he came and opened my door. “Ready?”
“No.” My honest answer got me a look of irritation mixed with pity.
He held out a hand to help me down from the warm truck and into the cold night. Underneath my clothes, my skin prickled with goose bumps. I followed closely behind Beau as he walked from the truck to the outpost. Shivering on the square cement pad, I waited for him to unlock the padlock on the brown wooden door.
He pushed inside first and I braced before forcing my feet to move. The musty smell assaulted my nose before Beau flipped on a light, revealing my new home.
There was no doubt about it now. I hadn’t just messed up my life with the Federov article.
I had completely fucked it up.
“I can’t stay here.”
“I know it’s not much,” Beau said, “but we’ll make it comfortable for you.”
Not much? Talk about the understatement of the century.
The overhead lamp cast a dim glow through the open room but I could see enough to know that I’d never be comfortable here. Beau’s footprints were visible in the thick layer of dust coating the floor. Every one of his steps sent echoing creaks and squeaks through the uneven floorboards.
On my left was a small kitchen circa 1972. The pea-green counters clashed fantastically with the mustard-yellow refrigerator and stove. Dead-fly carcasses were scattered across the counters. The fridge’s door was opened slightly and there were suspicious brown droppings in the bottom.
In the back corner was an old, black wood stove with a pile of wood blocks at its base. Next to it was a log chair that looked about as comfortable as sitting on a gynecologist’s exam table with your feet in the stirrups. Besides the chair, the room was empty.
“If you need to use the bathroom tonight, you’ll have to go in the biffy,” Beau said. “I’ll get the well pump running in the morning so the water works.”
“Biffy?” I asked.
“Outhouse.”
“Oh my god.” I was going to faint, and if not for the fear of touching the floor, I would have. I had walked right into my own personal hell. Prison inmates were given better accommodations than this. I didn’t know whether to start laughing or crying.
In a nightmare flash, I pictured myself in six months, wearing the same clothes I was in now. My hair had become ratted in dreadlocks and I had befriended the mouse that came in and out through the gaping holes in the dirty floorboards to share my moldy bread.
“I can’t stay here,” I repeated, my voice cracking.
Beau grumbled something before running a hand over his beard. “Let’s get some shut-eye and worry about the place in the morning.”
I didn’t care that he sounded annoyed. I’d dealt with a lot today and wasn’t going to try and hide my objection to living in this hovel. There was only so much this girl could put up with before she broke.
Tears filled my eyes and I looked over my shoulder to the truck. If I begged and pleaded, would he take me back to town?
Probably not.
“Listen.” Beau’s tone softened. “I know this isn’t your thing. Tonight will be the worst. I promise tomorrow we’ll get it all cleaned up and livable. Just think of it like camping for one night. Haven’t you ever been camping before?”
I shook my head. The closest thing to camping I’d ever done was a stay at a beach cottage on the Oregon coast.
“Camping is fun.” His smile held actual magical powers. One flash of those pearly whites and the angry bees swarming in my stomach returned to their hive. Beau should model for Colgate. He’d sell more toothpaste than Michael Phelps sold Wheaties.
I can do this. I took a breath. Then another. Don’t be a baby, Sabrina. “Okay,” I whispered. My head and shoulders fell as another wave of exhaustion crashed against my battered body.
“Hey.
” He crossed the distance between us. My eyes stayed on our feet. His brown boots looked at least twice the size of my size eights. With a finger hooked under my chin, he tipped my head back so my green eyes were locked on his stormy blues. “I wouldn’t have suggested this place if I didn’t think you could cut it. You took on the mob. A cabin in the woods will feel like child’s play.”
“You don’t know me well enough to say that.”
His finger left my chin to slide a lock of fallen hair off my forehead. “Oh, I think I’ve got a pretty good read on you.”
My pulse quickened and my chest swelled, the wrap around my cracked ribs compressing even more tightly. When his hand dropped, I wasn’t sure if my sigh was from relief or disappointment. My life was such a cluster right now. Starting something with Beau was the epitome of stupid, but damn, his fingers had felt good against my face. And that spark in his eyes was a beacon calling to my soul. Telling me to dock my fucked-up ship in his port and he’d make sure it didn’t sink.
He took a step back, clearing his throat and breaking our stare. “I’ll start unloading supplies.”
Right. Time to move into my new home.
“I can help.” I spun to follow him out the door but he held up a hand.
“I’ve got it. Take a load off that ankle.”
Beau disappeared to the bed of the truck while Boone bounded out and ran inside. The hound plopped down next to the chair and I hesitantly followed. Doing my best to clear the dust from the seat, I eased onto the log chair.
“Not as uncomfortable as I’d thought, Boone.” Lovely. I was talking to the dog now. “This doesn’t mean I like you.”
Boone dropped his head to his paws and ignored me as he watched his master bring in load after load, setting bags, coolers and boxes on the dirty floor.
When the truck was unloaded, Beau worked with efficiency to start a fire in the stove. “The heat is set pretty low, just enough to keep the water pipes from freezing. I’ll get it all checked out in the morning and we can crank it up. For tonight, this will have to do. Hope you can sleep with the light and noise from the fire.”
“Sure.” I doubted I’d get much rest anyway. Between my aches and anxiety over the new location, I was in for a fitful night’s rest.
“Let me make sure this won’t smoke us out and then I’ll set up your cot.”
I watched him quietly, listening to the cracks and pops from the fire. It was the first time I’d ever been around a real wood-burning fire. The only fireplaces I’d ever seen were run by gas and fake logs. The smell of smoke and burning wood filled the outpost and chased away the must.
“So what do you use this place for anyway?” I asked. “Besides hiding reporters who are on the run from gun smugglers.”
He grinned and tossed another log on the fire. “These were set up mostly for forest fire crews. Biologists sometimes use them if they’re doing field study. If there are public access trails, crews will use these while they do trail maintenance. Actually, there are outposts like this scattered throughout the mountains. The government built a bunch of them in the seventies, ran power lines and dug each one a well, so they’re pretty self-sufficient.”
“Is there a chance we’ll get unexpected visitors?”
He shook his head. “There’s a bigger station just south of here that’s easier to get at from town. Since there hasn’t been a forest fire on this side of the ridge in years, no one comes up here but me.”
“Why would you have to come here?”
“For my job. I make sure all the outposts in the county are in good shape. Basically, that the power still works and the pipes haven’t busted. Jess and Silas came up with me once to go hunting, but that’s about all the traffic this place has seen in five years.”
His definition of “good shape” was different from mine, but at least I was hidden. When he’d said that I’d be off the grid, he hadn’t been kidding.
“There.” He stood from the floor and swiped the wood bits off his hands. “That should keep us warm tonight. Let’s head on out to the biffy and then I’ll set up your cot.”
Outhouse? No, thanks. “I’ll just hold it.”
He bent low and captured my hand, pulling me up from the chair. His tug was gentle but firm. I was going to the “biffy” whether I liked it or not.
“Fine,” I grumbled. I needed to pee and would be even more uncomfortable if I tried to hold it all night.
He didn’t let go of my hand as we walked across the room. My fingers looked dainty and childlike in his meaty grip. Nabbing a flashlight from the kitchen counter, he led me into the night, pulling me behind him as he followed a narrow footpath toward the outhouse.
The foul odor hit me when we were five feet away and my free hand flew to my nose.
Just get in and get out. Pee faster than you’ve ever peed in your life.
Beau dropped my hand to open the door and handed me the flashlight. Breathing through my mouth, I stepped into the small wooden room and lifted the lid on the hole.
“Oh my god.” I gagged. “I’m in an outhouse.”
I set down the flashlight, hovering over the seat to do my business. Mortification turned to horror when I realized that Beau could definitely hear me peeing. Men were so lucky. I’d kill for the ability to pee standing up right now.
I finished, foregoing the nasty toilet paper by the hole and yanked up my leggings before bursting out the door, walking back to the outpost as quickly as my ankle would allow.
Behind me, Beau chuckled.
“I’m so glad you find this entertaining.”
“Don’t get all riled up. I’m not trying to torture you.”
But torture was exactly what this was. The back of my throat started to burn as my eyes filled with water. A hiccup escaped and I swallowed hard, forcing down others. I’d never felt so embarrassed. Anton had beaten away most of my self-confidence this morning. I’d been holding on to one last remaining sliver but Beau’s laughter at my outhouse reaction had just shredded it to pieces.
“Hey,” Beau said softly, clamping a hand on my shoulder and stopping me on the trail. The heat from his broad chest was at my back. “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you, just the situation. I’m used to this type of stuff and I’ve never really been around someone who wasn’t. I apologize if I hurt your feelings.”
I was grateful for his apology but it did little to lift my spirits. He saw me as a foolish city girl who would never fit into his raw and rugged world. I was the spoiled princess who required indoor plumbing and a dirt-free abode. He was the rough and tough guy who would be the only man standing after a zombie apocalypse.
Of course he would laugh at me. Of course he would pity me. I was ridiculous here.
“Please,” I whispered. “Can we just go inside? I want this awful day to end.”
He squeezed my shoulder. “Sure.”
Back inside, he worked quickly to set up a metal-framed camping cot and roll out a thick canvas sleeping bag for my bed. From my duffel bag, I tugged out the pillow I’d borrowed from Felicity and pressed the fluffy down against my face. Her familiar scent brought back the lump in my throat. The floral smell would soon be replaced with campfire, the clean white cotton soon smudged with dirt. The good tainted with the unfamiliar.
I contemplated changing into pajamas but quickly dismissed the thought. I barely had the energy to sink onto the cot and toe off my shoes. Tucking myself into the sleeping bag, I burrowed deep, taking a few long inhales of Beau’s woodsy scent, which lingered on the red flannel lining. Hugging my pillow tight, I watched as Beau laid out his own sleeping bag on the floor.
“Don’t you have a cot? Or a pillow?” I asked.
“I’ll be fine.”
Silly me. Mountain men didn’t need trivial things such as cots and pillows.
Beau stoked the fire one last time before settling into his bedding and crossing his arms behind his head.
“Night,” he said.
“Good night.” I closed my eye
s, willing sleep to find me quickly. Maybe with some rest, I wouldn’t feel the urge to curl up and cry for days.
“Tomorrow will be better, Sabrina,” Beau whispered.
I believed him.
Because really, how much worse could it get?
A loud cracking sound caused me to jerk awake. The sudden movement sent blinding pain through my ribs and I collapsed back onto my cot, clutching my side. When the white spots in my vision cleared, I opened my eyes to see the sunshine trying to peek inside. There were only a few windows in the outpost, one in the kitchen and two high up in the pitched roof, but all three were filthy. Their heavy coating of dirt blocked out more light than it let in.
Beau’s sleeping bag had been rolled up and stowed by the stove. Neither he nor Boone were anywhere in sight.
Slowly, I pushed myself up to sitting and did a quick assessment of my injuries. My face was puffy and no doubt an alluring shade of bluish purple. The lack of a mirror wasn’t overly upsetting since I really didn’t want to see how hideous I looked. My ankle was stiff and incredibly sore. The pain radiating from my ribs was excruciating and would likely kill me within the hour.
But if I died, at least I wouldn’t have to use the outhouse ever again.
I sucked in a fortifying breath and stood from the cot. Another loud crack sounded outside and I shuffled across the dusty floor to squint out the kitchen window.
Oh, boy. Beau, the sexy lumberjack, was outside chopping wood. The vision was swoon worthy. His white T-shirt strained against his cut biceps as he swung the ax above his head. When it came slamming down to split the log, his thighs strained against his faded jeans. The only way to describe his legs was beefy. Those thighs could no doubt thrust with incredible force and I bet he could fuck a girl into oblivion.
“Phew.” I leaned back from the grimy window and fixed my ponytail, giving my hormones a few seconds to settle before I went outside. I’d told myself last night that I’d eliminate sex from my thought loop and I had every intention of trying. But with him looking all manly and sexy? The struggle was real. When I was sure the flush had left my cheeks, I pushed out the door.
