Inside, Kent gave me the grand tour, ending at my room, which happened to be next to his, just like at home. As usual, a wall would separate us.
“I hadn’t realized we were staying here for more than a day,” I said as I checked out my new digs. They were just as lux as at home too.
“I thought we’d stay for a week. Did you have other plans? I can arrange for an earlier return flight.”
“Um…” A week? We would be here for a week? Out here in this wilderness? Alone? Just the two of us?
It was so romantic.
And so dangerous…not just because of the bears.
Yep, my scheming stepbrother knew what he was doing by bringing me here.
“I guess it’s okay.” I flopped on the bed and closed my eyes. My body felt like it weighed more than a thousand pounds. I’d slept almost seven hours on the plane, but already I was ready to fall asleep again. Was this the infamous jet lag making me so sleepy?
The bed was heavenly, like floating on clouds. I sank into it, limbs growing heavier. Darkness swallowing me.
I couldn’t fight it anymore.
Chapter 8
Coffee?
Coffee!
Bacon!
I was in heaven. And Kent was a freaking angel.
I blinked open my eyes, momentarily forgetting where I was. Oh yes. Alaska. I was in Alaska. Somewhere. I checked my cell phone for messages. Normally I heard from Mom every few days. I wouldn’t be hearing from her today. Or from Ransom. No service.
After a quick trip to the bathroom to clean up, I dressed in the brand new jeans, T-shirt, and sweatshirt I found in the closet then hurried down to the kitchen for some breakfast. Last night’s dinner had been huge, but my stomach was growling this morning. Empty.
I arrived to find Kent standing at the stove, a pair of sweatpants hanging from his hips. No shirt. Now that was a view worth a million bucks. More like a billion.
A year from now, would he be standing in our kitchen, cooking breakfast? Or will this thing we’d started unravel by then? God, I hoped it wouldn’t. Not only did this guy bail me out of one scrape after another, but he did so eagerly, happily. I appreciated that more than he could ever know. But that wasn’t why I couldn’t imagine my life without Kent anymore. Since spring break, Kent had slowly, gradually become one of the most important people in my life.
Openly admiring the view, I helped myself to a cup of coffee and sat at the massive farm table in the kitchen’s center.
Kent grinned over his shoulder. “You’re alive.”
“It’s a miracle, I know.” I sipped the coffee. It was mind-blowingly good. “Sorry. I totally crashed last night.”
“Not a problem. I caught up on some work.”
“What’s on our agenda today?”
“We could finish the walk we started last night. Maybe go for a hike.”
“Sounds like a plan.” I motioned to my jeans. “At least this time I’m dressed for the weather.”
“Good.” He set a plate heaped high with eggs in front of me. “Eat up. You’re going to need your strength.”
I eyed the mountain of yellow. It rivaled the massive snow-capped mountains outside. “There is absolutely no way I can eat all that.”
“Trust me. You’ll be sorry if you don’t. This air will make anyone as hungry as a grizzly.” He placed a second plate of eggs on the table, added a plate full of crispy bacon and then sat across from me and dug in. “I figure we’ll get in at least ten miles today.”
Was this really the Kent I knew? The one who normally drove his fancy cars everywhere? Who lived in suits and ties? Who practically dripped fine culture from every pore?
“Ten?” I gulped hard, not because I was trying to swallow a mouthful of eggs.
“What’s wrong, princess? Is that too much for you?”
My hackles went up. And then I got really annoyed because it was so easy for him to push my buttons. Even now.
I jammed a big mouthful of eggs into my mouth and washed it down with coffee. “Hell no. Ten miles is nothing. A walk in the freaking park. Bring it, Jeremiah.”
“What did you call me?” he asked. “I thought I was Valmont.”
“Having an identity crisis, are you?” I laughed at his scowl. “Ever heard of Jeremiah Johnson?”
“No.”
“Well, if we had the internet I’d tell you to look him up.” I pointed at him with my fork. “But I don’t think we do. So I’ll tell you. Johnson was a fictional character in an old movie made in the 70’s. He was a bad ass mountain man.”
Kent’s chest puffed up. Such a proud peacock, he was. “That’s me. Bad ass.”
“We’ll see about that.”
I didn’t quite finish Mount Scrambled, but I did a fine job of decreasing its size. And before I knew it, we were on our way, each carrying a backpack loaded up with sealed snacks, water, bear spray, and other hiking gear. The pair of boots I found in my closet was a godsend in the rough terrain. The paths weren’t the smooth stroller-friendly paved lanes I frequented in Michigan. No, these were narrow and uneven. But there was something thrilling and romantic about being alone in the Alaskan frontier with Kent.
He led like he knew where he was going. And I followed closely behind. Our pace was neither too fast nor too slow. Even so, I was ready for a break after about an hour and a half. I let Kent know by plopping down on a flat rock and exclaiming, “I need a break.”
Kent parked his cute little butt down next to mine and shrugged off his backpack. I admired the way the muscles on his arms and shoulders bulged as he moved for a few seconds before digging into my pack for my water bottle.
We both swallowed at least a half-gallon each before we put our bottles away.
“Tired?” Kent taunted. “Ready to go back?”
“No way! Are you?” I shoved him, catching him off-guard. He fell on the ground, landing with arms and legs sprawled. I laughed. Until he gave me a look that made me grab my pack and start running like a scared rabbit. I crashed down the path with Kent on my heels. At a bend, the path skirted a stream, the left side sloping and slick. My boot hit something and then I sailed through the air, landing on hands and knees. Kent saw me and tried to stop before he ran into me. Instead, he tripped on the same thing I had. But he performed a world class belly flop into the frigid stream water. He gasped. Didn’t move. Didn’t stand up, even though the water was shallow.
“Kent?” I yelled.
His eyes widened but he didn’t speak, didn’t move. He was breathing really fast, too fast.
Gray. He was turning gray.
Something was wrong!
I shouted a curse and quickly plunk-plunked into the icy water, moving swiftly but carefully so I wouldn’t fall. My legs practically went instantly numb. I grabbed an arm. His body was rigid, muscles frozen. “Kent!” I locked my jaw and pulled as hard as I could. He was dead weight. A ton. My boots slid on the rocks and in the mud, making it that much harder to get him out. I couldn’t feel my feet. And my legs were getting heavier by the minute. The water’s current tugged at me, pulling Kent away from me, downstream.
I clung to his arm, refusing to let go, stared at the shore and concentrated. One step. Two. Another. It felt like it took forever. Each stumbling, clumsy step. Each inch of progress. But slowly, a fraction of an inch at a time, I dragged him to the shore and out of the water. Then I collapsed beside him, sucking in huge gulps of air.
“Ohmygod,” I huffed. “Are you breathing? Please tell you’re breathing.” I shivered violently as the crisp air hit my soaked clothes, making them feel like ice.
“I’m breathing.” He reached for me, fingers curling around my hand. “Thanks to you.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“Shock, I think. The cold water. Wasn’t expecting that.” He shivered. “Didn’t think the water would be so cold this time of year.”
I eyed the clear water with a new respect. “I didn’t know what was wrong.” My teeth chattered, making my w
ords sound funny. “You wouldn’t move.”
I didn’t know what I would have done if he fell ill. Suddenly, being out here, in the boonies, alone with Kent felt a whole lot riskier. And not just because of our bet.
“Couldn’t move. We need to get out of these wet clothes,” Kent suggested.
“There you go again,” I said, trying to lighten the mood a bit so I wouldn’t panic. “Looking for an excuse to get me out of my clothes.” I rolled my eyes.
Kent laughed, sat up, and fumbled with his pack. His hands were working, but he moved a little clumsily, his movements jerky. I was hugely relieved he was alive but still worried. He needed to get warmed up.
He unzipped his pack, producing a flimsy silver sheet. “Here,” he said, handing it to me. “Take off those clothes and wrap up in this.”
“You’re kidding, right? I mean, it isn’t that cold out here. I’m sure I’ll be okay.” Leavng my clothes on, I wrapped the thin reflective blanket around my shoulders, surprised by how much warmer I felt. “Besides, only my pants are wet. You’re wet from head to toe.”
He closed his pack and threaded an arm through one of the straps.
“Aren’t you going to take off your clothes? And where’s your space blanket? You need one more than me.”
“I only brought one. Didn’t think we’d need more.”
I pulled it off and handed it to Kent.
He refused, waving a trembling arm. “No, you keep it.”
I sent him some don’t-make-me-kick-your-ass mean eyes. “Take it, dammit.”
He trundled away. Stubborn bastard. “No.”
I wadded the blanket up in my hands and shoved it at him.
It fell on the ground but I refused to pick it up.
Kent signed. “Shayne.”
“Don’t ‘Shayne’ me. You were immersed up to your neck. Wrap the damn blanket around yourself or I’ll kick your ass.”
“I’d like to see you try.” His purple-tinted lips curled into a cocky grin. But he snatched up the blanket and did as he was told. “Happy?”
I tried very hard to hide my shivering. “Yes.”
“Good.” He waved a shaky arm. “Let’s get back to the house.”
I clamped my lips and swallowed a sarcastic comment about who was calling it quits early. I didn’t need to bruise Kent’s fragile man-ego. I knew he’d try to continue on if I did.
There was always tomorrow.
It seemed to take a lot less time going back. Even so, by the time we reached the house, my pants were dry and I wasn’t cold anymore. Kent, on the other hand, was still wet. It appeared the blanket held the wetness in. Before stepping inside, he stripped off all his clothes but his pants. Then he cranked on the heat, lit a massive inferno in the fireplace, and bundled himself up in multiple layers from head to toe.
Gradually the color returned to his golden-brown skin, to my relief. An hour later, he was still shivering, even though the heat was almost unbearable. The fire in the fireplace that was so hot I couldn’t sit near it without breaking out in a sweat.
Several hours later, things weren’t much better.
Kent didn’t act like himself for the rest of the day. He cooked dinner but didn’t eat. After dinner, he sprawled on the couch, a heavy quilt wrapped around him. The television was on but he didn’t look at it.
Getting worried, I placed my hand on his forehead.
It was hot. Very hot.
“You have a fever,” I informed him.
“I’m fine. Just chilled from the water.” He snugged the quilt tighter around himself.
My insides twisted and a massive chill rushed through my body. “No, you’re sick.”
“I don’t get sick,” the sick man proclaimed.
“Evidently you do. Because you are.” I glanced out the window. Trees. That’s all I saw. Trees. And mountains. How far were we from civilization? I had no idea where the nearest doctor was. Or hospital. What if he got worse? What would I do? I didn’t have a car. No phone service.
“I’m fine.” He blinked in slow motion, leaving his eyes at half-mast.
“You need rest. Medicine. A doctor--”
“I’m fine,” he insisted. “Really. I’m okay. I’m not too proud to admit when I need help. If I needed a doctor, I’d tell you.”
“I don’t know…”
“Shayne.” He cupped my cheek. His palm felt hot. He was running a fever. I was sure of it. “Trust me.”
I huffed. “Fine. I’ll trust you.” I’d never met a more annoying or stubborn man in my life. “Come here and keep me warm.” I pulled on his shoulders, coaxing him to recline against me. He did more than that. He lay completely flat, his head cradled in my lap. The knit hat he’d donned flopped off, so I combed my fingers through his silky waves, enjoying this quiet moment of vulnerability.
His lips curved into a semi-smile. “Thank you.”
“For what?” I asked as I played with his hair.
“For saving my life. You could have fallen in, too. It was a selfless, brave thing to do.”
A tear of joy slipped from the corner of my eye. “You’re welcome.”
We were getting somewhere at last. It was sad it had taken a near-death experience for Kent to get to this point, but I wasn‘t complaining. His walls were crumbling. And I was finally able to see the man inside, the one who could be vulnerable.
Chapter 9
That night the hours crawled by slower than rush hour traffic on I-75. The later it got, the worse Kent became. I couldn’t find a thermometer in the house anywhere, despite a frenzied search of every inch. But I did find some Motrin. And after hours and hours of my cajoling and pleading and demanding, Kent finally gave in and took some.
He fell asleep at just before eight. In the morning.
Exhausted from sitting by his bedside, bringing him water and blankets, I wriggled up beside him and closed my eyes for a few minutes. Those few minutes flew by, and when I opened them again, the clock said it was almost three in the afternoon.
Kent was still sleeping. Sometime while I’d been out, he’d curled up to me, one leg thrown over mine, and an arm resting across my stomach. It wasn’t going to be easy wriggling out from under him. But I had to. Some things just couldn’t be put off.
At least, I noticed as I gently plucked up his hand, he felt cooler. The fever was gone.
Cringing, I moved slowly. He needed rest. I didn’t want him waking for at least a few more hours. If it wasn’t for my rumbling stomach and spasming bladder, I would have been tempted to stay put and sleep a few more hours too.
His arm was easy to move. I set it on the mattress as I sat up. His leg was another story. It was heavy. And I was in an awkward position. Unlike his arm, it plopped down when I moved it.
Thick, sooty eyelashes fluttered.
“Where are you going?” His voice was gritty.
“To get you some water,” I told him.
“No. Stay here. “Please.” He flung his arm, knocking me down onto my back. Then he dragged me against him and draped his leg over my hips. He inhaled. “You smell so good.”
“You’re delirious. I reek. I need a shower.”
“I’m not delirious. And you definitely do not reek.”
I gently peeled his limbs off me. “I definitely do.” Free at last, I made a trip to the bathroom first then went to the kitchen to cook up a little breakfast to go along with the water I’d promised. When I returned, the bed was empty. The shower was running.
Did that man ever slow down?
I set the tray I’d prepared for him on the nightstand and went to my room to get cleaned up. Once I was clean and presentable, I headed back to the kitchen to make myself something to eat.
Kent was dressed in a T-shirt and sweatpants, in the kitchen, at the stove.
“What are you doing?” I asked, exasperated.
“Cooking you some breakfast.”
“You should be resting. You had a pretty high fever last night--”
“I’
m fine.” As if to illustrate exactly how fine he was, he held up his arms and did a quick three-sixty.
He looked fine. Better than fine, actually.
Maybe I needed to back off.
Yes, that was a good idea. Because I had another battle to wage. This one was more important.
Last night, while I’d been sitting there, watching him shiver in misery, I’d had some time to think. I’d realized what fools we were being about everything. The bet was stupid and immature. Maybe a little fun, but still dumb. We were, after all, adults. Not teenagers.
I wanted to confront him about it. But was now the right time? If he was still feeling a little run down, it wasn’t fair to hit him with it this afternoon. But, I was feeling twitchy. I needed to get this off my chest.
I looked at him.
He grinned. “See? Fine.”
So he was fine.
I cleared my throat, took a deep breath, and blurted, “This whole game we’re playing is silly, Kent.”
“Game?” Kent echoed, hand wrapped around a pancake flipper.
“I’m talking about our bet. Why should we have to win or lose a bet to get what we want? If you want to help me, then fine. You can help me. I’ll accept. So you win.” I lifted my hands in the air, a surrender. “But why should you be the only one to win? Why can’t both of us? Why shouldn’t we be able to be honest with each other? Why shouldn’t you be able to be honest with me? Haven’t I proven by now that I’m trustworthy?”
Kent shrugged and went back to cooking.
Evidently not.
The wall was back up, the invisible one that he liked to hide behind whenever things got uncomfortable. I despised that fucking wall. If only I could kick it down.
My blood pounded hot and hard through my body. If I didn’t believe this thing between us was worth all this hell, I would’ve called it quits a long time ago and moved on. But, I hadn’t. I held on to hope. Even when we were apart. Why? Because he was worth it. I wanted him to know that. To really appreciate the fact that he could keep pushing me away, but I wasn’t going to leave forever. I’d return and keep pushing back until he eventually gave up.
Stepbrother Romance 3 - Addicted: A New Adult Alpha Billionaire Romance Page 6