Babyjacked

by Sosie Frost

  “But it’s your home…and it’s the one place you hate to be. Question is…why?”

  I circled the shop once more before hopping onto a table.

  “Cas—no.”

  I waved a hand and interrupted him, crossing my legs and letting my skirt do the talking. “I’m right. Don’t try to pretend.”

  “That’s not it.”

  “I know what your problem is, Mr. Marshall.”

  He surrendered with a shrug. “And I know what yours will be in a couple minutes.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I’ve had five years to grow up all on my own, and I’ve learned a few things.”

  “Ever varnish a tabletop?”

  “I’ve learned that people will hide instead of just coming right out and admitting that they’re scared.”

  Rem smirked. “What are you afraid of, Sassy?”

  “We aren’t talking about me, Rem. I’m looking into your head.”

  “Don’t look too close. It’s pretty dirty in there.”

  “Right now…just looks like there’s a bunch of bags packed and a compass pointing north. You want to run again.”

  “Can’t.” At least he was honest. “Got the kids to think about.”

  “The kids you haven’t seen all week? The ones who need their Uncle Rem more than ever? The ones who miss their mom so much we spent all day making Get Well Soon cards for her?” I sighed. “Why did you come back to Butterpond, Rem?”

  “They needed my help.”

  “And what about you?”

  “I’ve been helped enough, Cas. Your family did more for me than you realize.”

  “And there’s no shame in asking for more help,” I said.

  “I got you here, didn’t I?”

  I smirked. “Sure, I’m here…just so you can hide out in this shop.”

  He pointed across the shed at two hand-crafted dining room chairs. “Not hiding. I’m working every spare minute I can get to build some furniture. I need to bring in some money. God only knows when Emma’s gonna…” He frowned. “When she’ll recover. So, I better put something away for the kids. In case they need toys or clothes or…tranquilizers.”

  Oh.

  He didn’t need to look so ashamed. Nothing was sexier than a man being a man—providing for his family, protecting his own.

  “You love those girls?” I asked.

  “Of course. They’re my nieces.”

  “Then why are you so afraid to connect with them? With anyone?”

  With me?

  Rem brushed a hand through his hair, shaking out a plume of sawdust. His voice lowered, heavy and solemn.

  “Do you really have to ask why I ran? Why I’m not a part of any family anymore?” He snorted. “Take a look out your back window, at the hole in the ground where the barn used to be. You’ll get all your answers there.”

  “That was five years ago, Rem. You’ve been trapped in the woods for far too long. You’re becoming a recluse.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  Everything. “You’re missing out on so much.”

  He laughed—that solid, rumbling laugh that tickled in my stomach. “What could possibly happen in Butterpond?”

  “Lots of things.”

  “Name one.”

  Easier said than done. “Well…there’s the county fair coming up at the end of summer.”

  “Gonna sign me up for a pie-eating contest?”

  “I was thinking dunk tank.” I kicked my legs. His attention drew over me, from my toes to my smile. My skin tingled under his stare. “Don’t you miss it? All the friends you had?”

  “I lost them—and for good reason.” He held my gaze. “You know I’m better off on my own.”

  The question slipped out before I could stop it. “Aren’t you lonely?”

  “Nope.” His words darkened, wicked. “Though I do miss a couple of the good things.”

  “Like what?”

  “Getting a little personal, aren’t we, Sassy?”

  Oh. I rose to the challenge. “No hot dates in the logging camps?”

  “…Not the good kind.”

  “Well, now you’re home. You could have any girl you want.”

  “And what if I told you I wasn’t interested in any of those Butterpond girls?”

  His steps drew close. My heart skipped one too many beats, but I refused to let him see how much he affected me. My chin rose, and I studied his bearded jaw, the way his smile teased the corners of his mouth, the darkness of his eyes.

  “What if I told you…” His voice warmed. “I rather grab my girl fresh, right off the farm?”

  We weren’t easy pickings. “Farm girls know better than to entertain the local wildlife.”

  “Never stopped you before.”

  “Had to learn my lesson—don’t let that loathsome coyote chase me.”

  “Won’t chase you if you don’t run.”

  He stood before me, unwilling to approach the table, careful to keep his hands away from mine. I tightened my legs, crossed so hard at the ankles I’d fracture my foot. That only encouraged him. Urged him closer. Drowned me in his shadow.

  I licked my lips. Whoops. Too much of an invitation.

  “What would happen if I stop running?” I asked.

  “I’d eat you up.”

  “Doesn’t sound like a happy ending.”

  “That’s because it would be the beginning.”

  His kiss came quick—a dizzying spiral of anticipation, desire, and doubt. A shiver guided each wayward emotion. The frantic pattering of my heart. The tender submission of my body. The raging protests of my mind. The more I fought against myself, the harder it became to focus on anything but his nibbling, tender, deliberate kisses.

  I stopped him before the heat traveled too far, too quickly.

  “This won’t ever happen, Rem.” It might have been more convincing if my voice hadn’t trembled. “Not now.”

  “You want me to reconnect, to get back into the world?” He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “Give me a reason. Give me a chance.”

  I wanted to do nothing more, and that’s why I couldn’t. “I already did, once. Years ago. It wasn’t the barn that hurt me. You left, and you broke my heart, Rem.”

  “I’m not proud of it.”

  “Doesn’t matter now,” I said. “Besides. It was for the best. I’m smarter now.”

  “I know.”

  “Wiser.”

  He nodded. “Of course.”

  “I know what’s best for me.”

  “So that means no fun?”

  I met his gaze. “It means no you.”

  Rem liked the challenge. His smile turned wicked. “You know, we’re the same, Sassy.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “You’ve grown up. So have I. I’m a different man.”

  “Then why are you alone in the woods?”

  “Not alone anymore. I’ve got you.”

  “You’re paying me.”

  “I couldn’t take advantage of your kindness. You’d have stayed, regardless of the paycheck.”

  I pushed his hands away from my knees before they teased the hem of my skirt. “That’s not true.”

  “Now who’s lying?”

  “I wouldn’t have stayed unless you tied me to a tree.”

  “The night is young, sweetheart.”

  He just didn’t quit. I hummed, knowing his game.

  “Rem, I’ve learned my lessons. I know when a bad boy is just looking to score.” I tapped his nose. “And that’s all you want.”

  “So you’ve got me and the world figured out,” he said.

  “That’s right.”

  “No surprises.” He smirked. “No disasters.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Look before you sit, right?”

  “That’s…” I frowned. “What?

  Rem backed away with a laugh. “You just sat on wet varnish.”

  Damn it.

  I pushed from the table. I didn’t make
it that far. The sticky varnish wasn’t yet dry, but it wasn’t nearly that wet. It’d formed the perfect consistency to cling to my cotton dress and fuse my butt to the table.

  Good old sensible me, wise beyond my years, ass made of adhesive.

  “Help me down?” I asked.

  Rem surrendered, his hands up. “God no. I’m such a bad influence. One touch and I might just ravish you right there on Mrs. McMann’s brand-new dining room set.”

  “You’re such a jerk.”

  “Right now, it’s your booty undoing a half-hour’s worth of polishing. I hope they make panties out of microfiber cloths.”

  “Rem!” I twisted. The dress didn’t move, stuck to the damn table like he’d painted the piece with Gorilla Glue. “What can I do?”

  “Well, if you can hold a bowl of fruit, you’d make a great centerpiece.”

  He was hopeless. I grunted, grabbed the edge of the table, and pushed.

  I fell forward.

  My skirt did not.

  It was the rip heard around the woodshed, and it’d occurred on the one day I’d concerned myself about panty-lines. Mercifully, the thong stayed on my body. Unfortunately, it had wedged so far up my booty it’d tuned my voice to the g-string.

  Rem laughed as I fumbled for the skirt, giving it a hard yank. Half of the material sprung free of the table. I tossed the scrap at his face as he howled in hysterics.

  “There.” I spat. “You’ve always wanted in my pants. You can keep them.”

  “I got some glue if you want to lose the thong.”

  I had nothing to cover the panties except a chunk of 2x2 near my feet. It’d have to do.

  “I think I need some glue to keep this damn thong in place,” I said.

  Not the encouragement Rem needed. “I won’t tell if you drop em.”

  “Doesn’t seem very workshop safe.”

  Rem practically flexed. “You afraid of a little wood?”

  “Only the low-grade lumber.”

  He smirked. “But that’s the best to screw.”

  “Rotten to the core.”

  “Nothing a good drilling can’t fix.”

  He thought he was cute. I rolled my eyes. “If only we had a stud finder around here.”

  “Look no further, baby.”

  I uttered a wistful sigh. “Must be broken.”

  “Gotta give me a chance to nail you first, Sassy.”

  My turn to laugh. “Yeah. Good luck polishing the rest of your knobs, loverboy.”

  I backed towards the door, careful to gather what remained of my modesty as I tip-toed away.

  “Don’t go.” Rem called. “I haven’t even showed you my caulk yet!”

  He was sweet as 100% Grade-A maple syrup, and just as a dangerous as a falling branch. “I will not end up another notch in your bedpost, Remington Marshall.”

  “Cas, I’d build a whole new bed for you.”

  “Keep the skirt.” I met his gaze with a challenge. “Think about me tonight while you’re doing your…whittling.”

  “Always have, Cas.” He sunk onto his chair with a sigh. “Always will.”

  9

  Cassi

  I told Rem it’d take an act of God to get me in his bed.

  So, of course, the heavens opened, the rain poured, and the weather service issued a county-wide flash flood warning.

  Too risky – Julian had texted.

  Tidus agreed. It’s dangerous.

  How did you get my number? – Quint didn’t care.

  You’re working for Remington Marshall?? – Varius rarely came out of his room.

  And then there was Rem—arms loaded with the two little girls, all three of them giving me a pouty lower lip.

  “Dark and rainy, Sassy,” he’d said. “Why not have a slumber party?”

  A slumber party with the girls was fine. But did I trust myself with him?

  Not a chance.

  That’s why he took the couch.

  Not that his bed was any better. The soft sheets caressed me with his scent. The mattress held me tight. The pillows ached my head…and everywhere else.

  For five years, I’d imagined myself in his bed—and the tossing and turning was usually a precursor to a much more satisfying night’s sleep. Now? I stared at his ceiling, inhaled the earthen pine clinging to his blankets, and counted the crashes of thunder in the distance.

  One.

  Two.

  My eyes drooped closed just as a terrifying crash echoed from outside the window.

  “What the…”

  Thunder didn’t topple trashcans. Lightning didn’t creak the wooden boards of the porch.

  I bolted upright, darting for my phone. The trash cans rattled again. The sky streaked with brightness.

  Was that a shadow passing the window?

  Who was on the porch?

  I dove from the bed, skittering passed the window. The bedroom door stuck shut, and I grappled with the knob as I stared into the night.

  The middle of the woods was easy to find, but Rem’s cabin was in a backass corner of nowhere, surrounded by trees, dirt roads, and hidden from any and all civilization. Only by a miracle of science did we get phone reception, and even that was influenced by the clarity of day, the wind in the trees, and a daily prayer to the cell tower positioned on Krieger Hill.

  The forest was dark and scary on the best of days. But if someone lurked between the shadowy trees, who could help us? No one in Butterpond would know that we’d been turned into a cannibal’s hamburger until my brothers ran out of Pop Tarts and came looking for the grocery checkbook.

  I wasn’t taking a chance with two little girls sleeping in the other room. I half-shimmied, half-crawled into the kitchen, ducking under the windows.

  Rem slept on the couch, one arm over his eyes, the blanket low on his chest.

  His bare chest.

  And bare hips.

  Of course he’d sleep naked. That was real practical. We ate on that couch.

  At least it was a great sight to see before we’d be brutally murdered by a crazed serial killer during the summer’s worst storm.

  I searched for a weapon. Rem’s kitchen contained one dull chef’s knife, a stock pot, and a broom. I grabbed a lid to the largest frying pan as a shield and wielded both the broom and knife in the same hand. No more crashes from the porch.

  Did the intruder know I was awake?

  “Rem.” My hissed whisper wasn’t loud enough to carry over the rain pounding the metal roof. “Rem, wake up!”

  A good slap to his chest startled him awake. I groped the floor to find his jeans crumpled near the couch. I handed them to him before pushing the knife into his hands.

  He blinked, bleary, staring at the pants and weapon. “Is this…is this a seduction?”

  “It might be a burglary.”

  Even half-asleep, he grinned. “You don’t have to steal it. I’ll give it up willingly.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “So am I.”

  “I hear something.”

  “A racing heartbeat and murmured longings?”

  I jabbed him with the broom. “A crash. From outside.”

  “Okay.”

  “Something is out there.”

  Rem rubbed his face. “It’s the woods. There’s a lot of things out there.”

  “It could be a murderer.”

  “Who the hell would come all the way up the mountain to kill us?”

  “What better way to do it? We’re so far out in the boonies. No one would know.”

  “Boonies? Sassy, you grew up on a farm. It’s probably an animal.”

  “I grew up with domesticated animals—horses, cows, chickens. Not whatever might be out there.”

  “Nothing bad is out there. Just a coyote. Maybe a bear.”

  “On your porch.”

  “Be glad you’re inside.”

  “We’ll check together.”

  Rem sat up. The blanket fell low. I tried not to look.

  Failed.

>   What was I afraid of outside? The biggest animal twitched to life right beside me.

  Rem didn’t notice. He grunted and checked the time. “You want us to go outside and see if there’s a bear on the porch.”

  “Or a murderer.”

  “Why?”

  “So it doesn’t get in here.”

  He glanced at my impromptu shield and staff. “Is that why you’re wielding half-assed weapons? Christ, Cas, you are the Dollar General.”

  Another crash. I flinched, but enough was enough. I aimed the broom for the door. Rem hauled me away, tossing me onto the couch while he hobbled into his jeans as quickly as he could without causing permanent damage to his manhood or pride.

  “You stay here.” He scratched his beard with a lazy swat of his fingers. “I’ll check it out.”

  I offered him the broom. “Take it.”

  “Yeah, I’ll sweep him off the porch.” He handed it back. “You keep it in case I get eaten.”

  He flung the door open and braved the torrent of rain outside. A still second passed. The light of his cellphone swept across the yard.

  Then his shout echoed over the night.

  “Cas! Get in the house!”

  I leapt away as he rushed into the cabin, slamming the door and twisting the lock with a profanity.

  “Seriously?” I clutched the broom. “I thought the storm just freaked me out.”

  “No.” He peeked out a window. “I saw him.”

  “Him?”

  “Yeah. He’s a sneaky son of a bitch. Hiding in the shadows. Knocked over the garbage can.”

  My heart lurched. I glanced to the kids’ room. Still sleeping, but they were entirely too far away from us to feel safe. “Who was it?”

  “Some little fat guy. Real chubby.”

  “You saw him?”

  “Not that it’ll help.” Rem gestured over his face. “He wore a mask over his eyes.”

  Damn it. Our options were limited. Sheriff Samson never responded to anything outside the bar after midnight—and only because he was usually the last customer served. He’d never make it up the mountain in the middle of the storm.

  That meant it was up to us.

  “We’ve gotta go out there,” I said. “Confront him. Fight him off.”

  Rem nodded. “Good plan. I can’t let him prowl around. My luck, he’d get into the attic.”

  “Is there a window?”

  “A pest like that? He’d chew right through the damaged shingles.”