Cabin Fever

by Shani Greene-Dowdell et al.

  Nothing like a mangled or made-up word to feel better. Plus, she was right. Brocklyn didn’t merit my goodies if he couldn’t stomach my bad. I shouldn’t give myself away to someone that I couldn’t spend my life with if I wanted.

  “I hear you, Chey.”

  “It sounds you really like him because it’s been a long time since you talked about a man like this. “ Repeating my past was a good deterrent to going all in with a man. Brocklyn was the only one that made me want to break my dry spell. “Do you truly like him, Dee? I could be wrong.”

  My fingers stilled over the screen as my mind replayed our kiss and the nice things he did for me in minutes of meeting me. My fantasies wouldn’t be left out, showing clips of him and I intertwined like a movie.

  Get out your damn head, Deidre.

  Automatically, my fingers went back to work, lips curving upwards. “God, yes, Chey. His photo didn’t show that he’s kind, rough, gentle, funny, so damn strong, and—”

  “Stop! I think you’re half in love with him already and anybody can carry you, Dee. You’re at the most a hundred and forty pounds when soaking wet.”

  Certainly more than half in lust with him, I snorted. “Not that kind of strong, nut. I mean to look at him, you couldn’t tell someone was hell bent on ruining his life. I’d have lost all kinds of weight. He hasn’t complained at all.”

  “You totally can’t afford the weight loss, you’d vanish. I’d have all kinds of gray hairs myself. Why do you think someone is doing this to him? He had to make someone seriously mad to take things this far.”

  Considering her question, I sobered up. “Honestly?”

  “No, lie to me,” her tone as dry as a bone.

  “Probably because he has his pick of women but didn’t pick the one who wanted him to.”

  “And you’re worried you won’t stand out amongst the horde vying for his attention, that he’s an eternal hoe. I could see a woman doing this. Hell hath no fury and all that.”

  “Yes, I’m worried,” I confessed after several seconds. “I don’t want to be hurt because I’m not good enough or he needs a variety.”

  “You will never know if you’re good enough if you keeping sabotaging with winter flings.” Then, she cackled like the witch she was. “And selling yourself—”

  “Don’t say it,” I interjected, not in the mood for a height-challenged jab this time.

  She was famous for them when it came to me.

  “Short,” she verbalized anyway then cracked up at her own joke. “Seriously, you’re limiting what could be with any man, Dee. Life is not without risk. You have me to pick up your pieces when you have no one else and it’s kind of selfish to take what you want from Brocklyn then run because you’re scared and intimidated.”

  “Cautious,” I corrected, but she was right; a winter fling was simply a shield from pain and disappointment.

  “Whatever, Dee. You’re not worried about being cautious when it comes to putting a second notch in your bedpost. So what are you going to do with him now that I’ve called you out, which is why you called me subconsciously? I don’t have the answer, you do and owe me a drink. You got me playing Dr. Phil when I need to be finding my peace.”

  “I don’t know, Chey. It’s too early to be talking relationship. You’re the one for putting it all out there.” A little mystery never hurt anybody, right?.

  “Stop jumping the gun too, Dee. Ever heard of dating? Spending time talking and getting to know one another. That’s how you find out someone’s truth and worth. You tried it once. Try it again. You might like how it turns out this time. Maybe he’ll erase the bad memories and feelings about men that Javion left with you. He wasn’t a man by the way, he was a kid and thief that you stayed with way too long in hopes of building a real family with.”

  “Do not call that demon’s name.” Javion Picard left some bad residual effects that were boomeranging until this day. He was the reason why I searched for family in those who weren’t a danger to my heart. My clients. Cheyenne. Deep down, I wanted so much more… with Brocklyn, if I was honest.

  He resonated with me from a damn photo somehow. My insecurities weren’t going to change that. Though I was scared shitless, it was time to decide: stay safe or risk it all. There had to be a middle ground and I spied a hidden backdoor into Brocklyn’s server. Impulsive therapy session aside, I minimized the program running, opened another and began decoding the trail of commands the hacker left.

  The screen filled up on the right with a list of suspicious transactions like lingerie at Vicky Secrets, implemented instructions, and systems accessed. While engrossed in my discovery found by sheer luck, I remembered the woman who loved me when no one else had in my ear. “Cheyenne, I need to call you back.”

  “Found something?”

  “Yep.” Positive I would also find a dead end if nothing else, I followed the bread crumbs that may have led to whoever embezzled then displaced the money, destroying Brocklyn’s world. Whoever they were had made an enemy as well and I was on their ass like white on rice.

  “Just don’t let the other thing you stumbled upon in the real world get away, okay, Dee? Call me.”

  “Okay,” I vowed, distracted. “Love you. Bye.”

  Tapping my ear, I killed the call, but a microscopic fraction of my concentration wasn’t on my job. The back of my head whirled with notions of Brocklyn. My heart beseeched me to just let this thing between us, whatever it was, play out. I was too set in my ways to try a new trick such as saying how I felt outright, inviting rejection. I wouldn’t deny my feelings if he asked, I wouldn’t enforce our time was up when the week was over and real life for me, hopefully Brocklyn too, resumed. If he proposed dating, we would. If we parted ways, I’d handle it.

  At peace with my choices, I turned on my music playlist. Alicia Keyes and Maxwell serenaded me as I tumbled down virtual rabbit holes, chasing after a master manipulator. Round and round I went, unaware of the time passing and darkness moving in until artificial light flooded the room, giving my eyes relief from the glare of the iPads.

  Constantly, I checked the other screens for completed programs. No such luck. All the while, Brocklyn took up space mentally, sometimes physically on the edge of my awareness. A part of me knew he was milling around the kitchen, his nearness a balm to my uncertainties about us as he cooked, too dark and cold to be outside any longer. At some stage in the evening, he slid a plate of mashed potatoes out of the box along with macaroni and cheese and a steak. I ate and drank absentmindedly during my digital pursuit that eventually went cold on the information highway.

  Frantically, I looked for other doors. Hell, I’d have taken an alleyway if it was available and glaringly obvious. Nada. Brocklyn’s invader had led me on a merry chase and got away, bizarre but ordinary hacking shit leading to nowhere and everywhere.

  “Dammit!” I thundered, hitting the table with the heel of my hand and spotting Brocklyn sitting across from me, his brow wrinkled, fresh black T-shirt on, and newly combed hair. He bathed. “How long have you been there?”

  He closed one eye, tallying quietly. “About three hours. It’s a new day. You can be quite single minded when you want to, you know that?” The grin that trespassed across his lips and drew my eyes implied he didn’t mind it so much.

  The high from the digital chase hadn’t worn off and I needed to talk myself down. “I was this close to finding the fucker. IP addresses for each weird money transfer and commands given to your systems are scrambled. They originate and end in different countries like the fucker’s everywhere. Probably right in Louisville. They’re good.” Given credit where it was due, I palmed my face, yawning but didn’t want to quit. Failing to bring light to the dark deeds razing lives for the hell of it wasn’t a good look on me.

  Brocklyn slapped his thighs, getting to his feet. “Well, those scrambled IP addresses will still be there tomorrow. It’s two in the morning, you’re tired. Whether you’ll admit or not, it’s been a long day, working on a long ni
ght and I promised you a bubble bath.” Sticking his hand over the tabletop, he wiggled his fingers at me. “Let’s go, sweetheart. You’ll see things clearer when you’ve rested.”

  I wondered what it would be like if I had him to say something along those lines to me every night. He had to have the opportunity first. Determined he would, I spied on the tablets doing their duties. They were still at it, collecting data. If there was something else for me to do, I couldn’t see it with eyes that were crossing up. Shit, exhaustion was setting in finally. Nothing left to do but take his hand. I did.

  “Are you always going to take care of me or is this just a temporary perk of working for you?” I queried in a playful tone while standing up, yet his answer could make or break us. “I have to tell you, spoiling me will ruin me.”

  This man had gotten to me through a photo before lifting a finger on my behalf. Being good to me then taking it away, him away later might flip my world. That was scary. Not knowing how it felt to make love to him was scarier.

  Screw it. I’ll gamble everything on him. If it doesn’t pan out, Chey better keep her word and pick up my pieces.

  On our march to the stairs, he peeped at me over his shoulder. “Taking care of you is not a perk, it’s a right you have because you’re you and I like doing it. If I ruin you by spoiling you, I’ll just have to keep it up so you don’t have to detox.” What was he going to do about my addiction to him?

  “Careful, Brocklyn,” I cheesed cunningly on the way up the stairs, bringing up the rear. “A girl can take those words and flip them to mean what she wants them to.” A subtle hint to watch what he said.

  In my bedroom’s doorway, he cradled my waist in huge hands, pulling me close. “Not a girl, Deidre, only you, a real woman can flip them. I have never encouraged anyone else to do that or stuck around when they did.”

  While I hate-admired the lucky bitches he dated, his thumb traced my jaw, eyes monitoring the route it took along my flesh. “But you…” he inhaled hard enough to make his nostrils spread, “…you do something to me.”

  Tiny campfires ignited under my skin, stealing the air right out of my lungs for feeding their flames and leaving my throat dry, voice raspy. “You do a hell of a lot more than just something to me, Brocklyn.”

  In my typical frame of mind, when fearing collecting more regrets, I wouldn’t have let that slip out. Nonetheless, he was like tequila: truth serum. And then, he was kissing me so tenderly, thoroughly I forgot to take in air or expel it.

  Who needed oxygen? Not me who lived without it for minutes cheerfully as he took me on one hell of a ride.

  Winding the softest version of lovemaking I’d ever been a part of, he stepped back, still holding my waist and rolling his lips inward as if ingesting my flavor. “If I don’t stop, you won’t bathe tonight while it’s warm up here and our winter fling will begin out here in the hall.”

  Caught in a haze from voluntary suffocation and his dizzying display of affection, I wasn’t thinking, only reacting when my mouth opened on its own accord and dribbled, “Brocklyn, we need to talk.”

  The expressive exterior of his face cleared up to confused skies. “I was told those words mean nothing good. What’s wrong?”

  I killed the moment, that’s what. Stupid mouth.

  I picked at the knotted cords of the damage it had done and spilled, “I don’t want a winter fling with you.”

  He reared back as if I had slapped him. “Why? I know the day started off rocky, but I couldn’t have fucked up again that quick, that bad to change your mind so soon.”

  God, he thought I was dumping him before we had any kind of relationship. Way to go, Deidre.

  “No, sweetheart. I don’t mean it like that. I mean, if it’s okay with you, we’ll just date and see where this goes… or not. Your call. I’m not applying pressure just…” Going for what I wanted. Would kill Cheyenne if it backfired.

  Brocklyn’s face split wide with his joy. “Just what, Deidre? Say it. Never hold back from me. I won’t know it’s broke and needs fixing if you don’t tell me.”

  He knows all the right things to say, doesn’t he? I was screwed… physically if I had my way.

  By the time that thought made its round cerebrally, I was resembling a Cheshire cat. “I’m just putting it out there.”

  “And I’ll be damned if you regret it.” He took another few minutes to kiss me scatterbrained then patted me on the ass. “Go find nightwear and whatever you want to bathe with. You don’t want my soap. It can de-rust iron. Meet me next door in five minutes.”

  All I could do was nod, punch-drunk and baffled at the man’s skills to hinder even my basic functions no matter what he did. I staggered into my bedroom, fingers pressed to my tingling lips. Smiling like an idiot, I undressed, put on a thick robe that was rolled up army-style in the pack. I anticipated frigid days and nights, and packed accordingly. Toiletry bag with favorite jasmine-scented soap in hand lastly, the sound of falling water beckoned.

  I still wasn’t all there intellectually when I found him kneeling on the floor, lighting candles arranged sparingly around the tub. At the backend, a can of Pepsi, an iPad that had yet to be put to good use, and my sat phone waited on a small table previously sited by the fireplace.

  All I wanted was him. He seemed to want a lot more for me. What air his presence didn’t drain out of the room, his kindness took for itself, leaving me nothing and lightheaded. This was seduction. I was seduced a few days ago. He was late, but the thought surely fucking counted.

  Chapter Eight

  ~Deidre~

  Not far from throwing myself at him, I browsed the area. Towels were stacked on the toilet a few meters from the tub’s edge. Bubbles and steam rose with the water level. I could play a game or two if bored. He thought of it all.

  “Damn, Brocklyn, this is the type of shit that makes women fall in love.”

  He glanced back, arrogant smirk in place. “I know. Come here.” He stood up, looking away to turn the water off.

  I relocated in front of him without hesitating. When he finally faced me head on, the robe was puddled at my feet. The only thing I wore was my toiletry kit in my hand. It was ego-boosting when he appraised, well, my goodies and cursed under his breath then realigned the lump—a big motherfucker—near his zipper.

  “All mine.” I licked my lips in preparation.

  Brocklyn shut his eyes and breathed deep. “Woman, you’re going to kill me. Let’s get you in, so I can get you out.”

  I went airborne at his insistence, hands shipping me up and around to hover over the bath.

  “Dip your toes in, see if it’s too hot, Deidre.”

  Dangling from his hands like a child, knees bent on reflex to absorb the shock of my weight touching down, whenever it touched down, I never felt more like a woman or heard anything more ludicrous as too hot. “Are you kidding me? Other than boiling, a bath’s never too hot.”

  I stretched my toes toward the tub so Brocklyn would let me down. “Oh. My. God.” It didn’t get any better than having a caring soul in a hot man and steaming water to soak in, in one place. “This is heaven. I’m never going home,” I informed him on a long sigh, laying back.

  He grabbed a towel. “Then stay, but I want to too.”

  I kinked my neck back to googly-eye him, all of him stooping down next to me to drop an arm on the lip of the basin. “You’re part of the cabin’s accommodations package, right? You were here when I got here. Without you, the package ain’t worth it and I’m complaining to the owner.”

  Snickering, he gifted me the towel. “The owner is me and your mouth is going to get you in so much shit with me.”

  I waited a beat. “I don’t hear you giving the time and day of when I’ll get myself in so much shit with you.”

  Throwing his head back, he roared with laughter. I was hell, I knew it, would make him like it come hell or high water, snakes, and snow. Right then, I knew I’d follow him anywhere. The problem was getting him to do the same, follow
me that was. Of course, he couldn’t follow himself… but I didn’t put it past him to not find a way to do it. He had me following my fantasies into his orbit, didn’t he?

  Shouldn’t have been possible after Javion.

  That fucking prick.

  Javion was in my rearview mirror though. I’d be stupid to look anywhere but at the present with Brocklyn there. I didn’t. He was mine for the taking. As much as I loved long soaks, that was in my way of getting what I coveted. I bathed quick, chatting about everything and nothing under the sun with Brocklyn, who passed me a towel then towed me while wrapped in it out twenty minutes later.

  “My room’s the closest,” I croaked, my body constricted around his like a… Ugh! You knew what I mean.

  I didn’t know about him, but I had no designs on parting from his arms lest day came upon us sleeping in each other’s embrace, which we did. Light deluged my eyelids because both of us forgot to close the freaking curtains previous to going to bed. In my defense, I was busy screaming my head off with my eyes closed, noisily requesting for deliverance from Brocklyn… and then begged for more when his detailed administrations with his tongue ceased. He was a tease, a terror, and had an insatiable thirst in the sack for my liquid heat. Just thinking about it had me shuddering through phantom aftershocks of bliss.

  Stretching languidly, one hand penetrated the morning rays. I edged off his chest slowly as not to wake him. Light burns on my wrists prickled with my movements from crawling backwards off the bed. I glanced down at the red abrasion marks. No, I still wasn’t into BDSM, but a little rope never hurt anybody. Unless, you were struggling to break the bindings and escape an inferno-hot tongue and brutally-strong hands clutching the back of your knees, keeping them bent and resting on the duvet beneath you for maximum access to you. Throughout the night.

  I damn near did get away several times. ‘Damn near’ wasn’t good enough and I came like the good girl Brocklyn kept murmuring I was. Only, he was saying it against my slit as excruciating orgasms flowed from my southbound lips to his. His lapping up the surge of juices sent me around the bend again and again. I wouldn’t speak on the flag-pole sized dick that rubbed every erogenous zone I had within, some I didn’t know were there until he was slamming inside me. Sadly, I passed the fuck out underneath him afterwards.