She didn’t know how long she sat there trying not to think of how off track her life had become in the last two days. Eventually, she let go of the steering wheel and rested her hands in her lap, but she kept her head on the hard circle.
The passenger door opened and closed. “Is there another road out of here?” Luke asked.
She moved her head back and forth on the steering wheel. Nope. One way in. One way out. At least until after they got across the bridge.
“Are there tools at the cabin? A chainsaw or axe?”
She shrugged her shoulders. Maybe. She vaguely remembered Claudia’s dad using one during one visit, but she wasn’t sure and it took too much energy to explain that to him.
“All right,” he said softly. “When you’re ready, head back to the cabin.” He got back out of the car and left her alone.
Where else was she going to go?
Chapter 15
Luke stalked up the hard-packed dirt road, glancing over his shoulder at the car. He’d never seen Rowan like that. He’d gotten one call from her after their fight letting him know she was transferring to the University of Colorado—he’d thought that was the end. She’d given up. Between his anger and his pride, so had he.
She’d never called him after that. Not that he knew of. Things had been crazy right around that time. His debut album hit the top ten on the country charts and he’d been swept up on the rollercoaster of concerts and interviews and publicity appearances. For a while, he reached for her. He’d turn to ask her opinion or make fun of some pretentious executive and it would take a split second before he remembered she wasn’t there anymore. She was supposed to be. It was always supposed to be the two of them. Until it wasn’t.
He reached the cabin and stomped up the wood stairs.
Fuck. He couldn’t get in.
Spinning on his heel, he leaped down to walk back to the car to ask for the lockbox combination.
Rowan pulled into the clearing before he got a few steps. She got out of the car, unlocked the door, and entered the house without saying a word. She kicked off her shoes by the door and went into the bedroom, shutting the door behind her.
It was probably for the best right now. Anything he tried to say would be wrong and make things worse. He took the keys off the hook by the back door and went out back. He opened the shed at the end of the deck and found the generator, but no tools.
He scanned the yard and noticed a larger shed tucked back into the tree line. Inside he found a push lawnmower, a chainsaw, and, if worse came to worst, an axe. Under a shelf at the back of the shed, he discovered a half-full five-gallon gas can and poured it into the chainsaw. Hopefully, it would get him through cutting up the trunk. He grabbed the chainsaw, the axe, and the eye and ear protection he found on a peg and walked around the house to the road.
Back at the tree, he dropped the axe and put on the safety glasses and hearing protection. All he had to do was clear a path wide enough for the car to get through. The chainsaw started easily and cut through the branches at the top of the tree until he could get to the trunk without being slapped in the face by damn overgrown Christmas tree.
The scent of pine and fresh cut wood surrounded him and he fell into a rhythm of trimming and sawing, which let him clear his mind of everything but concentrating on not cutting off his own limbs. He’d forgotten how calming physical labor could be. Lord knew he didn’t have to lift a finger anymore if he didn’t want to.
By the afternoon he’d cut through eight sections of the trunk. The sections were larger than he’d have cut for firewood, but he just needed them small enough that he wouldn’t throw out his back pulling them off the road. It was still sweat-drenching, back-breaking work and his muscles protested under the strain they weren’t used to.
After pulling the last piece out of the way, he sat on one of the cut sections and glanced down at his hands, covered in scratches and sap. He hadn’t thought to find a pair of gloves in the shed. Making a fist, he hissed at the pain. He looked up and stared down the road that would take them out of there and possibly take Rowan out of his life. It was a risk he had to take since keeping her locked in the cabin didn’t seem like a viable option. All he could hope for was that he would be able to break through her shell and convince her to give him a chance.
He pushed up from the tree and picked up the chainsaw and the rest of the things he’d brought down. Hot, sweaty, thirsty, and in desperate need of a shower, he was no closer to figuring out how to get through to Rowan. Somewhere, someway, somehow things had gone to shit between them and he had an uneasy feeling Brett and Bobby John had something to do with it.
He returned everything to the shed the way he found it, then started the generator because he was not going to take another cold shower, no matter how welcome this one might be. For one, he needed the hot water to get the sap off his arms without removing chunks of hair.
Inside there was no sign of Rowan and the bedroom door was still closed. He hesitated with his knuckles poised over the wood, then lowered his hand. Shower, food, then talk.
He turned on the water and stripped, being careful to avoid the cut on his forehead. Taking his shirt into the shower with him, he used the bar soap to wash it as best he could. There was no way he was going to be able to sit in a car for however long it took to get back to civilization smelling himself and he sure as hell wasn’t going to stink Rowan out. There wasn’t much he could do about his jeans, but at least they didn’t reek of B.O.
Rushing through the shower, he toweled off and pulled on his boxers and jeans as his stomach reminded him he needed to eat. He wrung out his shirt and hung it over the curtain rod to dry.
Going to the car, he pulled out the bag with the refrigerated food, a can of soup, and the bread and took them back into the kitchen. Tomato soup and grilled cheese had always been Rowan’s favorite comfort food.
Once more, he hesitated with his hand over the door, then knocked sharply.
“Rowan?”
The handle turned easily and he eased the door open. She lay curled up facing away from him.
Sitting on the edge of the bed next to her hip, he could tell she was awake. “I fixed some dinner.”
“I’m not hungry.” Her tone was soft. Tired.
That worried him more than anger would have. “You need to eat. I got the tree clear.”
Her upper body twisted and she looked at him over her shoulder. “You cleared the tree?”
It was hard to miss the way her eyes flitted to his chest, then snapped back up. “Not all of it. Just enough so the car will fit through.”
“Oh.”
“Do you want to eat?”
“I hadn’t really thought about it.”
“Come eat.”
She nodded and he stood to give her space as she rolled over and slung her legs over the side of the bed.
“Where’s your shirt?” she asked.
“Drying. I had to wash it.”
“Why?”
“It stank.” He ran a hand over his abs. Hmm…maybe he should spend a little more time working out now that he had some downtime. “Is it going to bother you? Me not having a shirt on?”
She scoffed. “No.”
He fought his smile. He didn’t believe her. “Good. Food.”
“Okay. I’ll be there in a minute.”
He nodded and closed the door behind him.
She followed him less than a minute later and held out a shirt. “Here. I found some spare clothes when I got here—this should fit.”
He wanted to tease her again about his nakedness, but it was probably best not to push his luck. He pulled on the shirt while she sat in the chair next to him, tucking a leg underneath her.
He wanted to ask her about what she’d said in the car, but she seemed to have drawn into herself. She stared at her plate and chewed slowly. She looked…sad.
He’d done this to her. He was a selfish bastard and if he were a better man he’d walk away—again. But he wasn’t a be
tter man and he still believed they deserved a second chance. He wanted a second chance.
There’d never been anyone else in his life that he’d felt a connection to the way he did with Rowan. Even now, when she was pissed and angry at him, he felt her pull—like an invisible tether that would always connect them. He’d been stupid to walk away and to ever believe that she would walk away without a good reason.
“I think we should wait for the morning to drive to town,” he said.
Her spoon paused halfway to her mouth and she lowered it back to the bowl. “Why?”
I need more time. “It’ll be dark soon. I don’t want to run the risk of there being another tree down or the road being washed out. It’ll be safer to leave in the morning so we can see what’s ahead of us.”
The corners of her mouth pinched and he knew she wanted to argue with him, but it was a solid reason. She nodded and finished the rest of her dinner in silence.
Rowan cleared the dishes while he explored the bookcases in the living area. “They have Monopoly,” he said. “You want to play?”
She glared at him from the sink. “I’m not playing Monopoly with you.”
“Why?”
“You cheat.”
“What? No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do.” She shut off the water and dried her hands.
He crossed his arms. “When have I ever cheated at Monopoly?”
“That time we played with Shelby and you kept moving your piece ahead spaces when you thought we weren’t looking.”
“That was—” He stared up at the ceiling, counting back. “That was more than fifteen years ago!”
“And we haven’t played Monopoly since,” she said.
“They have cribbage, do you want to play that?”
She shook her head. “I think I’m just going to go to bed.”
He looked at his watch. “It’s not even seven o’clock. Come on, one game…please? Don’t make me read a book.”
Her chest expanded as she inhaled. “Fine. One game.”
Luke grabbed the board and deck of cards from the bookshelf and returned to the table, sitting across from her.
She swiped the cards. “I’ll shuffle.”
“I am hurt by your implication.” He winked and set up the pegs on the board.
“Mmm hmm.”
Rowan shuffled and dealt the cards. Picking his up, he winced when the corner of one dug into the palm of his hand, right where the skin had rubbed off.
“What?” she asked.
He shook his head. “It’s nothing.”
Ignoring him, she set her cards down and grabbed his hand, turning it palm up. “What happened?” she asked, doing the same with his other hand.
“Been a while since I’ve had to chop up a tree. I don’t have any calluses on my palms anymore.”
“Stay there.” She pushed up from the table and walked around the small island and disappeared from sight. He heard her rummaging around in the cabinets before she reappeared and returned to the table, setting a large canvas bag on the table.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“First aid kit,” she said, scooting the chair next to him so close her knees bracketed one of his.
The heat from her legs embraced his and he pushed the image of them wrapped around his waist out of his mind. It didn’t stop the shudder from racing up his spine as her thigh brushed his.
“Hands,” she said.
“What?”
“Your hands.” She looked at him expectantly. “They need to be cleaned so they don’t get infected.”
He glanced at his raw palms. “I washed them.”
“Give me your hands.” She didn’t wait for his compliance but grabbed both his hands and pulled them closer to her.
She was touching him—voluntarily—what the hell was he griping about? He watched her dig through the bag and pull out several items—gauze, a small brown bottle, and bandages. The antiseptic wipes stung and he inhaled through his teeth. She shook the small brown bottle and uncapped it.
“Ah! Shit!” He jerked his hand away. He didn’t know if it was whatever was in the bottle or that it was put on after the antiseptic, but it hurt like a bitch.
She yanked his hand back. “Quit being a baby.” She blew on the raw skin and the sting dissipated.
Unfortunately, watching her pucker her lips and feeling her cool, soft breath on his skin caused another ache to form. He glanced down quickly to gauge how much of his lap was under the table. Probably not the best time to sport a boner.
“Thank you for clearing the tree,” she said.
“There didn’t seem to be any other choice. Thankfully there was a working chainsaw or we would have been hiking out of here.”
“I guess one good thing came out of you following me up here—I would have been screwed by myself.”
“You would have figured it out.”
“Maybe.”
Luke looked sharply at her. “Don’t do that. You’re one of the smartest and most capable people I know.”
Her lips formed a semblance of a smile, but he knew she was doing it to placate him. He wasn’t blowing smoke up her ass. She’d always been the one people turned to for advice and help. When had all that changed?
When you let her leave, asshole. He reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
She closed her eyes and tilted her head. He couldn’t tell if it was to get closer to his touch or farther from it.
“Please don’t,” she whispered.
Guess that answered that question. “Rowan—”
Her eyes popped open. “I can pretend as long as you’re not touching me or looking at me like that.” She looked back at his hands and covered the last sore with an adhesive bandage. “I think I’m going to go ahead and go to sleep so we can get an early start in the morning. I don’t know how much fuel is left in the generator—can you please turn it off before you go to bed?”
She busied herself with cleaning up the papers and first-aid supplies without looking at him, then returned to the bag to the kitchen.
Luke opened his mouth, then slumped back in his chair when she closed the bedroom door. Shit.
Chapter 16
Rowan woke slowly, painfully aware of the pressure on her bladder. That’s what she got for going to bed so early and for not going to the bathroom first. Closing her eyes, she pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders and tried to ignore the urge to go along with the wind howling around the cabin.
Nope. She had to go. Whimpering at the idea of getting out of her warm cocoon, she pushed the blanket aside and swung her legs over the bed. By the time she returned, her body was racked with shivers. The temperature outside must have dropped considerably. She hurried back to bed, wrapping the blanket around her like a burrito and tried to keep her teeth from clacking like a windup toy.
Once she got cold, she always had a hard time getting warm without any additional help. She didn’t know if there were any extra blankets and frankly, the idea of getting out of bed to look for some was as appealing as the idea of going out and starting the generator to get some heat going.
A soft tap at the door made her clench her jaw. If she pretended to be asleep, he’d go away.
The door opened. “Rowan? You okay?”
Her whole body shook. “Mmm hmm.”
“Are you cold?” he asked.
Freezing! “No, I’m good.” Her teeth picked that exact moment to chatter.
“No, you’re not.”
She heard him approach the bed.
Luke pushed her shoulder. “Move over.”
“You’re not getting in bed with me,” she said through clenched teeth.
“I’m cold, too. Move over.” A draft of air floated over her right before his blanket covered her head.
She grumbled in protest but scooted toward the edge of the mattress. The bed jostled when he joined her. He shoved an arm under her pillow and neck and pulled her closer, leaving her wrapped up in
her blanket burrito.
His body was a furnace. She’d forgotten that, but took advantage of it and inched closer, tucking her head into the pocket of his shoulder.
“This doesn’t mean anything,” she whispered.
“It means we’re both cold and neither of us wants to go outside to start the generator.” Luke turned on his side and wrapped his other arm around her, pulling her closer. “Quit thinking and go to sleep,” he mumbled.
Right. Like that was going to happen. She was in bed with Luke. Her nose was pressed into the hollow of his throat and she was trapped in her blanket and his arms. Her body might be settling into the familiarity of his, but her mind was telling her she was all kinds of a fool.
Rowan closed her eyes as his heat slowly seeped into her and her body stopped shivering. She’d roll over in a few minutes…as soon as she was all the way warm.
Weird—Michael wasn’t normally a cuddler, but he had one arm thrown around her and a hand cupping her ass cheek with a thigh between her legs, while her head rested on the warm skin of his chest.
Rowan blinked her eyes open slowly and stared at the music note tattoo. When did Michael get a tattoo like Luke?
Luke! She rose and rolled away, only to get tangled in the blankets and fall off the edge of the bed.
“Owww.”
His head appeared over the edge, his hair adorably disheveled. “You okay?”
“Yup.” She pressed her lips together.
“Forget I was here?” he asked.
“Yup.”
Scratching the back of his head, he let out a big yawn. “I’ll get the generator started.”
He disappeared from view and she watched his bare feet walk across the room and out the door. How could he pretend they hadn’t woken up together? Well, she’d woken up with him. He’d woken up to her rolling off the bed.
Had he been in boxers the whole night? Her cheeks flushed at the memory of where her thigh had been wedged and damn if her nipples didn’t pucker. She pressed her palms over her breasts. She was cold—that was all.
Make Me Believe: Jilted: The Bride Page 8
