by Nicole Casey
If possible, I blushed deeper.
“A bath?” I croaked and he glanced at me over his shoulder.
“If you want. It will make you feel better, I’m sure.”
There was nothing I could do except nod, watching him deposit the dishes by the stainless-steel sink and disappear through a back hallway adjacent to the kitchen which I hadn’t even noticed before that minute.
He returned a moment later with a thick, terrycloth towel and placed it in my arms.
I stared up at him, noting how he towered over me and I felt protected in his shadow. Again, the dream rushed me and I had the almost insurmountable desire to taste his lips but I stopped myself.
It’s the wine, I chided myself. Nice girls don’t go around kissing strange men.
But Harding was no longer a strange man.
He was someone who had saved me when I was sure death was knocking.
And I wasn’t sure I was a nice girl, no matter how he looked at me.
I would be blind not to see the way his irises fixated on me as he tried to figure me out.
As if I am some mystery to be unlocked, not simply a girl running from a messed-up circumstance. Will he still look at me like that when he learns the truth about me or will he wash his hands of this?
I had to admit that if someone fell into my lap with such an outrageous story, I would run away as fast as possible.
He already made it clear that he didn’t want me there. I couldn’t keep pushing my luck by expecting him to understand where I came from or why I had fled at first opportunity.
“Eloise? Are you coming? I started the bath for you. It’s this way.”
My mouth had gaped so many times in the past hours, I was sure it would eventually lock in place.
He ran me a bath?
I hung my head, knowing he could see the scarlet color of my complexion and followed him toward the back hallway, the heady feeling escalating.
The bathroom was an extension of the original cabin, the walls made of chipped stone and the bathtub equipped with jacuzzi jets.
I had never seen such opulence in one spot and I stood, dumbfounded as Harding left me alone in the room to disrobe.
For a long moment, I stood, unsure of what to do but stare at the filling tub in disbelief.
I had never seen running water like this.
Our kitchens had basin pumps and our bathwater was brought up from the stream when we had our weekly baths on Saturdays so we would be fresh for Sunday services.
My last bath had been three nights earlier in preparation for the ceremony, although my twenty-four hours in the wild had left me filthy, tangled and bruised.
I shivered as I thought about how close I had come to being somewhere else in that night.
Looking down at my soiled dress, I suddenly wanted to strip it off, to be free of the place I had left in such haste, without a plan.
I ripped the homemade garment away from my body, with it the hemp underwear and tossed them in a corner before hurrying to lower myself into the water.
The temperature was perfect, possibly a little on the hot side but precisely what I needed to feel clean.
I shut off the faucets and sat back against the ceramic, clawfoot tub, dipping my long waves into the water.
I relished the silence brought on as my ears submerged and I lay suspended for a long while, my mind escaping my aching body for a time.
The heat seeped into my sore muscles, washing away whatever pain I was feeling.
Even the goose egg on my forehead did not hurt as much as it had earlier.
Harding was nursing me back to health surely.
I had to find a way to make up his kindness.
I had no idea how much time had passed but I must have drifted off, the wine and warmth overtaking my frame.
I felt a hand on my cheek and I started slightly, lids fluttering open.
Harding stared down at me, compassion in his surreal eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “You had me worried.”
I shook my head, trying to orient myself and slowly, I realized I was naked.
The water had turned cold and I wondered how long I had been asleep.
Harding held his gaze on my face, even as I sat up but I did not gasp or reach for a towel.
My dark eyes locked on his and I willed him to look at me, to see my nakedness.
Look at me! I wanted to cry. Touch me!
But he only turned away, a soft smile on his lips, hidden beneath the bristle of hair over his mouth.
I swallowed the lump in my throat, wishing I had the same gusto I’d had in my dream to reach for him.
There was an unmistakable connection between us, an unspoken bond we had.
Was it because we were both such secluded souls or maybe there was something deeper than that?
I couldn’t help but think that something had led me to him, to his cabin in the middle of nowhere.
Whatever it was, I had never known it and it superseded the drunk I had felt from the two glasses of wine I had consumed with dinner.
“Harding!” I called as he reached the doorway.
He froze but he didn’t turn around as he waited for me to finish my thought.
“Thank you.”
They were magic words and slowly, he did pivot as I rose from the tub, droplets of water dripping from my naked form.
He had no choice but to look at me this time, his eyes raking over my flat stomach and firm, perky breasts before resting on my plaintive face.
I longed to have him scoop me up and take me to his room, to kiss away all the doubts I had manifested.
“Don’t thank me yet,” he sighed and I sensed a deep melancholy in his voice.
He seemed to be warning me about something but I couldn’t hear it.
I could only see the desire in his eyes.
“I found some clothes which will suffice for tonight,” he told me, his voice a funny pitch as he turned away. “I’ll throw your dress in the wash.”
“NO!” I said sharply. “Burn it.”
He remained facing outward but he nodded slightly.
“You can have the bedroom,” he continued. “I’ll be working on the second floor tonight but I will try to keep it down so you can get some sleep. You need it.”
He disappeared before I could answer, leaving me with a wave of disappointment to wash over me.
Maybe he didn’t find me attractive.
Or maybe he had a girlfriend.
The latter thought filled me with apprehension.
I could be upsetting his life in more ways than one.
How could he explain my presence to a lover if she came calling?
Stepping onto the bathmat, I reached for the fluffy white towel and wrapped it around my body, securing it tightly around my frame.
I had seen the way he looked at me.
He wanted me as much as I was sure I wanted him.
If he had a girlfriend, she was about to have her heart broken.
My hair dripped over the floor as I exited the bathroom and searched for him throughout the cabin.
He was not in the living room or kitchen although both dogs barked and wagged their tails when they saw me.
I found they didn’t make me nearly as nervous as they had before, probably because I knew I was allowed on the property now.
In their own way, they were very sweet also and I couldn’t resist scratching their heads as I looked around for Harding.
The front door was open and I wandered toward the screen, watching as he unloaded his truck of building supplies.
His arms rippled beneath a red t-shirt as he pulled heavy bags of concrete mix and various tools, including lumber onto the yard.
In the dark, I could see his eyes gleaming with concentration and I saw he had so much on his mind.
The last thing he needed was some woman wandering into his life and screwing up his balance.
He was clearly a lone wolf.
If he want
ed someone, he could have any woman he pleased.
He certainly wouldn’t pick someone like me.
The sacrificial virgin girl who had been raised in a cult.
Slowly, I retreated into the house and ventured back down the hall toward Harding’s bedroom at the very back of the house.
True to his word, he had located a t-shirt and pair of track pants which were clearly too small for him but still huge on me.
Still, they beat the clothes I had been wearing.
Wherever I end up, I vowed to myself, climbing into the huge, comfortable bed. I will never wear long dresses again.
I slid underneath the thick white duvet and pulled the blanket up around my chin, listening for Harding in the house.
I didn’t hear a peep from him or the dogs and I wondered if they were still in the house.
Only the sounds of crickets and frogs winding down for the night should have acted like a lullaby but my mind was on the definition of Harding’s arms as he tossed aside the concrete mix.
Without realizing it, my hand slipped beneath the blanket, under the too loose waistband of Harding’s pants and I allowed my fingers to make their way between the cleft in my thighs.
Closing my eyes, I was in the bathroom with him again, his grey-green eyes boring into me, the heat of his gaze setting me aflame.
My fingertips explored the pulsating button as shivers of pleasure shot through my body, a gush of dampness soaking me.
Up and down I stroked myself while in my mind’s eye, I slipped from the tub, sashaying toward him, drops of water littering my path toward him until my arms slipped around his neck and I drew him toward me, my nude body wedged against his growing shaft.
“You’re so beautiful, Eloise,” he mumbled but I silenced him, my tongue jutting into his mouth.
I could taste wine and he could stand no more, his arms encircling my waist, bending me backward until was sure I was going to break.
My fingers clung to his belt buckle, undoing him while his mouth trailed along my windpipe, falling to nibble my nipples.
Small bolts of lightning illuminated my body, another stream of wet sliding down my leg as he spun me around, his pants falling to his ankles again.
In the bed, my hand was sopping, one finger gliding up and down along the opening as I let out a sigh.
Harding danced me back, landing me against the wall between the bathroom and bedroom, his member engorged and throbbing between my thighs.
“I need you to take me this time,” I gasped as his lips suctioned against my breasts, a combination of pain and pleasure erupting through me as his teeth gnashed down on the tender skin.
“What did you say?”
My hand whipped upward from beneath the blanket as Harding stood in the doorway of his bedroom, his huge form illuminated by the dim light of the hallway.
“Nothing!” I squeaked, grateful for the blackness of the room.
I was glad he could not see how purple my face had gone in those two seconds. He had caught me in the middle of such a compromising position and yet I wish I had let him see me.
What would he have done?
I would never know now.
Disappointment made me lightheaded as I shifted my eyes to watch him with narrowed brown eyes.
He stepped inside and walked toward the bed, my heart thudding so loudly, it was impossible he did not hear it as he slipped toward a nightstand closest to me.
He opened the top drawer and removed something from inside before perching on the edge of the bed, opening a small case.
“Earplugs,” he offered. “Put them in so you don’t get kept awake while I’m working.”
I didn’t know how he couldn’t smell my pheromones sucking the air out of the room.
I nodded and turned my head away.
“Thanks,” I muttered but I didn’t mean it. I fought against every muscle in my body which wanted to jump onto his lap.
He shocked me by leaning in and gently kissing my cheek.
“Good night, Eloise. Tomorrow things will seem much easier,” he promised and I felt my heart swell at the vote of confidence.
He looked at the bump on my head, brushing aside my damp waves to examine the swelling.
“That looks like it’s going down also. I don’t think you have a concussion or it would have manifested by now.”
I nodded in agreement, gulping back the lump in my throat.
“Good night,” I whispered, hoping he was right about the next day being easier. That had been the longest twenty-four hours of my life. I felt like I had been tested in every possible way.
I did not risk touching myself again, even after I heard him pattering around on the new addition above my head. The desire to do it was overwhelming but I’d had enough excitement for one day.
It was obviously a sign that I wasn’t meant to be doing such wicked things.
It’s like he said; tomorrow is another day.
I fell into a dreamless sleep in seconds, the earplugs firmly in my ears. If Harding had been hammering or drilling, I heard nothing at all.
When I woke up the next morning, I stretched, smiling as I saw the sun shining through the windows.
“Harding?” I called, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. Rufus and Clayton ambled in toward me, sniffing at me curiously as if they had forgotten who I was.
“Hello?”
I wandered through the kitchen, my ears honing for sounds of life in the cabin but I heard nothing at all.
Harding was gone.
The day was not starting well.
7
Harding
Even after I given up working on the extension the previous night, well into the wee hours of the morning, I found it impossible to sleep.
How could I be knowing that Eloise was in my bed, only a few feet away?
I should have fallen into a deep slumber after the day I’d had but my mind was a whirlwind, unwilling to let me go down.
The woman had slipped into my home seemed to fit there as if she had always been and the realization was difficult to grasp.
Never had there been anyone else in my life, outside of my parents.
Even the few women I had entertained in moments of intoxicated loneliness had quickly worn on my nerves.
No one had lasted twelve hours, let alone an entire day and here was Eloise Danzer softly curled on my mattress, unspoiled and seeming to call out to me no matter where I was in the house.
I was meant to be solitary, like a wolf, tucked away in my cave, away from the world.
And yet Eloise was making me question that, even after a few short hours.
Eventually, I made it to sleep but I woke early, deciding to head into Cedar City before Eloise could notice I was gone.
If I went early enough, I might avoid a crowd and get a chance to speak to Cane alone for a few minutes.
I wanted to see what I could learn about my houseguest and where she had come from.
Before I went, I checked in on her.
I couldn’t stop myself from staring at her asleep on her side, her chest rising and falling evenly in the depth of sleep.
She was the embodiment of innocence and I felt like I was staring at a picture, not a living, breathing person in my midst.
I found myself wondering what she was dreaming about because she seemed so peaceful, so untouched by whatever seemed to be haunting her outside.
What would she do if I slipped into the bed beside her, if I stroked her hair and touched her cheeks?
Would she wake up and panic? Scream?
Or would she look at me with those innocent brown eyes and allow me to kiss her rosebud mouth like I had been imagining?
I couldn’t help but think of the night before, staring at her in the bath.
She seemed to be begging me to touch her but I had no way of knowing if that was my own building lust or a reality.
The last thing I wanted was to freak her out any more than she’d already been. If she was r
unning from a bad husband, I didn’t want her to feel like she’d run into the same situation.
But that didn’t mean that resisting was not killing me. I wanted to touch her very, very badly.
I quietly pulled an outfit out of the drawers, careful not to wake her and hurried to dress in the living room before the dying fire at the hearth.
I hoped to be back before she woke up but I assumed she would figure out where everything was.
She was more adept that ninety percent of the men I worked with. I wasn’t worried about her in the least.
Before I hopped in my truck, I fed the dogs and gave them instructions to watch over Eloise in my absence.
They wagged their tails in unison and I took that as an affirmation.
The drive to town was uneventful and given the early morning hour, it was quieter than usual.
What would have normally taken me an hour got me to Able Cane’s in forty-five minutes, just as the store was opening.
Truth be told, I was speeding like a maniac. I wanted to get back to Eloise as fast as possible.
To my chagrin, it was Stephen manning the fort when I entered, his surly face already firmly rooted in his iPad.
He didn’t even look up to acknowledge me when I entered, even after I subtly cleared my throat.
I tried again, leaning across the counter to stare at him.
Exasperated, he looked up at me as if I had interrupted some earth shattering experience and grunted.
“Yeah?”
It was hard to believe Stephen was my age.
He reeked of entitlement although how the son of a general store owner could feel so superior to other people was beyond me.
“Cane’s not around today?”
He scowled at me as if I had asked the dumbest question imaginable and I wanted to reach across the counter and grab him by the collar, forcing the answers I required from his too-thin lips.
“It’s Sunday,” he replied in a tone which suggested I was an idiot. “There’s church today.”
Church. Of course.
Stephen didn’t strike me as the religious type.
He didn’t strike me as any type. He was mundane, nondescript.
He would have made good mountain folk; no one would notice when he dropped dead either.
