Stranded

by Noelle Stevens

  He smiles. “Okay. I’ll see what I can find for dinner.”

  Grateful that he’s finally saying something that has no sexual innuendo behind it, and trying to avert my gaze from his adonis-like body, I hold my towel tightly around me as I hurry out of the kitchen and walk toward the laundry room.

  Chapter Eighteen

  After grabbing my jeans and blouse from the laundry room, I head upstairs to my room and close the door behind me. Like the last time I got naked, I push the chair in front of the door, just in case. After stripping off my wet underthings, I roll them in the towel, then hang them over the side of the chair.

  I thoroughly dry myself, then pull on my jeans—commando style again. Dang, I’ll be glad to get my luggage. I pull my blouse over my head, then look down at my chest, not thrilled to see that my nipples are clearly evident through the fabric. I momentarily wonder if I should put my wet bra on. Then I come up with a better idea.

  Pushing the chair out of the way, I carry the bra and panties into the bathroom and dig around to see if I can find a hair dryer to dry my things, but come up empty. I look out into the hallway and see two closed doors. My curiosity gets the better of me, and I open the first door. It’s another guest room. I close the door and move to the final door, which has to be Drake’s room.

  Silently, I turn the knob, then slowly push the door open. Poking my head in, I make sure the coast is clear, then I walk in like I belong there. A king-size bed takes up the middle section of the wall, and a matching dresser sits on the wall directly opposite the bed. Above the dresser hangs a large flat-screen TV, and I wonder if he has a satellite for television as well as Internet.

  A pair of large windows meet at the corner of the room, creating a spectacular view. A door that leads to a bathroom catches my eye and I head that way. “Nice,” I whisper as I take in the large jetted tub, the oversize shower with glass doors, the double sinks with granite countertops, and the large walk-in closet.

  I pull open drawers, then look under the cabinet, but there is no hair dryer in sight. I hear the unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps ascending the staircase, then walking down the hall toward the master bedroom.

  Crap, crap, crap. My gaze darts around the space I occupy, trying to figure out what to do. Hide, my mind commands. Without another thought, I dash into the closet, then frantically look for a place to conceal myself. One side has two rows of hangers—shirts on top, pants on the bottom. Across from that is a wall with shelves that hold shoes, along with a tall dresser, and at the end of the closet directly opposite the door is a short row of hangers with slacks, suit coats, and a couple of robes.

  My gaze absorbs all that information in mere seconds, and when I hear Drake’s footsteps reaching the entrance to the bathroom, I dash into the corner that is hidden behind the door, then press myself against the wall, praying he won’t touch the door.

  I hear him moving around in the bathroom, and I wonder what he’s doing. When I left him in the kitchen, he was still wearing his swimsuit with the towel wrapped around his waist. The memory of his wide shoulders and perfect chest distracts me for a moment, so I'm a bit startled when I hear him enter the closet.

  I hear the sound of hangers sliding as he evidently searches for something to wear. Holding perfectly still, I try to not even breathe, but I’ve never been very good at holding my breath, and after a moment I exhale. The sound is much louder than I thought it would be, and I slap my hand over my mouth.

  “What in the hell?” Drake mutters.

  The door, which has been my invisibility cloak, swings outward, and my eyes meet those of Colton Drake. Without meaning to, my gaze slips downward, and when I see him in all his naked gory, I involuntarily gasp. My gaze shoots back to his face.

  Rather than embarrassment, his face shows amusement. “Why are you hiding in my closet, Ashley? Were you trying to get a glimpse?”

  My eyes are wide as my face turns five shades of red. “No.”

  He chuckles. “Looks like you got the show anyway.” He doesn’t attempt to cover himself as he speaks. “So, why are you in here?”

  My eyes are locked on his in a desperate attempt to not look at what he has to offer, but in the brief glimpse I had, I noted that he is well-endowed, and as I visualize what I’ve seen, my eyes drift downward of their own accord.

  “Ashley?” he nearly purrs, snapping my eyes back to his.

  “Yes?”

  He raises an eyebrow.

  For some unknown reason I hold up my bra and panties.

  Drake’s eyebrows rise higher.

  “They’re wet,” I say. “I was looking for a hair dryer so I can dry them.”

  “Oh. Well, I don’t have a hair dryer.”

  “I found out.”

  “So you’ve already gone through my bathroom?” His lips twitch, as if he’s trying to hold back a smile.

  “I’m sorry. I'm not trying to snoop. I just wanted to quickly dry these.” I wave them around like flags, then when I realize what I'm doing, I drop my hands to my sides.

  His gaze seems to deliberately slip from my face down to my breasts, and this time a smile blooms on his mouth. “Ah. I see.”

  I can feel the fabric of my blouse brushing against my rock-hard nipples, and I throw my arms over my breasts to hide them. With my bra in my hand, the strap flies upward, nearly hitting Drake in the face.

  He jumps back to avoid it, but now that he’s further away from me, my gaze drops to his waist, then to his magnificent erection. I look toward the back of the closet, and without meeting his eyes, say, “I’d like to go now.”

  He doesn’t move, forcing me to practically brush up against him as I pass. Once I reach the exit, I scurry out of there as quickly as I can, back to the relative safety of my bedroom.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Once inside my room, I shut the door, feeling as if I’ve just run a marathon. My breath comes out in audible little puffs and a smile lifts the corners of my mouth.

  I cannot believe what I just saw. Oh my holy hell. And he didn’t even seem to care. What is that all about? He even seemed happy about it.

  Not sure what to make of Colton Drake, I sink onto the bed, my bra and panties still in my hands, and stare out the window. The sun is setting, and I stare at the darkening sky, replaying the fun I had with Drake when we played in the snow. I feel a warm glow starting as I picture the impossibly handsome man who isn’t embarrassed to show that he finds me desirable.

  A knock on my door draws me out of my reverie.

  “Dinner’s just about ready,” Drake says from the door.

  I jerk my head toward the sound. “Okay.” Making a quick decision, I drape the bra and panties across the chair, open the bedroom door, and head downstairs. Something smells good as I enter the kitchen and I see that Drake’s set the table.

  He stands in front of the counter putting a salad together. He’s wearing a pair of well-worn jeans with a button-up shirt that’s not tucked in, along with a pair of comfortable looking slippers.

  “Do you need any help?” I ask.

  “No, I’ve got it covered.” He turns to me with a smile. “You can clean up afterwards though.”

  His suggestion doesn’t annoy me this time. “Okay.” I stroll over to where he works. “What’d you make for dinner?”

  “I had some hamburger patties in the freezer so I threw them on the grill.” He looks at me with a question. “You’re not a vegetarian or anything, are you?”

  I laugh. “No. I definitely like my steak.”

  “Good.” He hands me the salad. “Put that on the table and I’ll get the burgers.”

  I do as he asks, then watch him through the kitchen window as he scoops four hamburger patties off of the grill and slides them onto a plate, then adds four toasted buns to the pile.

  A moment later he sets the plate on the table.

  “Mmm,” I say, the scent of barbecue reaching my nose.

  “Help yourself,” he says, motioning to the plate. />
  I take a bun and place a burger on it, then add a piece of lettuce and a slice of tomato. He takes two burgers and squeezes out a large dollop of ketchup.

  We’re quiet as we eat, both lost in our own thoughts.

  “I’ve liked having you here,” he says as he starts on his second burger.

  I smile, glad I haven’t been too much of a nuisance. After all, he came to the cabin to relax, not to take care of a stranger he picked up off the side of the road. “Well, I appreciate you not leaving me to freeze.”

  He frowns. “I hope you know I would never do that.”

  I quirk an eyebrow. “So yesterday when you acted like you were going to throw me out. You weren’t serious?”

  He laughs. “No, of course not.” He smiles. “But it was fun to see your reaction when you thought I was.”

  Not amused, I press my lips together. “Well, you scared me. I thought you were some kind of psycho.”

  Looking somewhat contrite, he says, “Sorry.”

  “Uh huh.” I take a bite of salad, not ready to completely forgive him just yet. We eat in silence for a while, then I ask, “How long were you planning on staying here?”

  “I usually just come for the weekend.”

  Today is Saturday, so I consider what this means. “Do you think we’ll be able to get a tow truck to pull my car out of the snow tomorrow?”

  He looks out the window. “Possibly. The snow seems to be tapering off.” He turns to me with a smile. “Just depends how busy they are, I guess.”

  “Is there a place nearby that we can call?” Reno is a couple of hours north of here—a little far for a tow truck to come.

  “Yeah. There’s a place in town I can call. But they only have the one tow truck.”

  I think about this and wonder how long I’m going to be stuck here. Though it’s been kind of fun to flirt with Colton Drake, I have plans. I want to get to Reno and get started on my life.

  “Aren’t you hungry?” he asks, pointing to my half-eaten burger.

  I look at the food on my plate, and realize that my appetite has diminished. When I try to figure out why, I realize that these last twenty-four hours have felt like an interlude between college and real life, and it turns out I’m not as eager to start real life as I’d thought. “Yeah,” I say, and pick up the burger to take another bite.

  Drake smiles at me. “Make sure to save room for dessert.”

  The burger stops an inch from my mouth. “You have dessert?”

  He laughs, then looks at me sternly. “You have to eat your dinner first though.”

  I smile. “Okay, daddy.”

  His lids lower. “Oh, honey. I am so not your daddy.”

  At the look on his face I feel a burst of heat between my legs, and quickly take a bite of hamburger so I won’t have to say anything. He watches me as I chew, and as much as I want to look away, I don’t want him to know the impact he’s having on me—although I’m pretty sure he does anyway. After only a moment I break eye contact, using the excuse of lifting my water glass.

  “Well, I’ve had enough,” he says. “How about you, Ashley? Do you want anymore?”

  I shake my head. “No, thanks.” I can’t even finish the one burger I had. I set it on my plate and look at him with a smile. “I’m done.”

  “Eager for dessert, are we?”

  The gleam in his eye makes me wonder what he has planned, but I smile and nod. “I have a bit of a sweet tooth.”

  “Do you now?” He stacks our plates and carries the dishes to the counter, then he takes some things out of the freezer and refrigerator. His back is to me, so I can’t see what he’s doing, but after a he’s been working for a couple of minutes I hear the tell-tale sound of whipped cream being dispensed.

  A moment later he carries two glass dishes to the table and sets one in front of me.

  “I hope you like ice cream,” he says as he sits in his chair.

  I look at the dish in front of me and see a banana sliced lengthwise with two scoops of ice cream on top—one vanilla and the other chocolate. Whipped cream is piled on that, with a cherry on top. Smiling, I look up to see him watching me. “This looks delicious.” Then, knowing his eyes are on me, I use my thumb and pointer finger to grab the stem of the cherry, lift it to my mouth, then use my tongue to slowly pull it into my mouth. I pull the stem off of the cherry, and moan in pleasure.

  My eyes go to his face, and I see his eyes glittering with undisguised desire.

  His mouth turns up into a lazy smile. “Do you want another?”

  I shake my head. “No. I’m good.”

  His eyes drift downward, grazing my blouse, and I feel my nipples harden through the thin fabric. “Yes you are,” he murmurs, then his gaze meets mine.

  Pleasant sensations gather at the apex of my thighs, and I wonder what I’m doing. Am I trying to seduce him? Why? I thought I’d decided I wasn’t going there with him. Or with any man, for that matter. Annoyed with myself for sending him mixed signals, I focus on the bowl in front of me, and ignoring the whipped cream, I dig my spoon into the chocolate ice cream.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Don’t you like whipped cream?” he asks as I continue avoiding the fluffy white sweetness atop the ice cream.

  Maybe I’m just making things worse by so obviously avoiding what I know he’s trying to imply.

  “Or,” he says, smiling. “Maybe you’re saving it for last.”

  Just to defy his expectations, I jam my spoon into the whipped cream, then put a big spoonful into my mouth. I meet his gaze. “I just didn’t feel like eating it yet.”

  “Okay.” He works on his dessert, and doesn’t say anything else. It doesn’t take long for us to finish, and when he’s done he sets his spoon in the dish. “I’m going to stoke the fire while you clean up.”

  I watch him walk away from the table and toward the living room, feeling like I’ve made him angry for some reason. Was it because I didn’t jump into his lap when he so obviously wanted me to? Mentally shaking off thoughts of Drake and what might be bothering him, I focus on loading the dishwasher, then wiping down the counters.

  When I’m done, I walk into the living room.

  He’s stretched out on the couch reading my book, and when I walk in, he smiles like everything’s fine. “I haven’t read Lord of the Rings in years,” he says.

  “Well, it’s your book.”

  He sets it down on his stomach. “Yes, but you’re the one reading it right now.”

  I sit in the recliner and lift the foot rest, then stare at the crackling fire.

  After a moment he sits up and holds out the book to me. “I’ll read this when you’re done.”

  “I’m not going to be able to finish while I’m here, so you might as well read it.”

  “You can take it with you, then just send it to me when you’re done.”

  I take it from him. “Do you get mail out here?”

  “I have to go to the post office to get mail here, but I’ll give you my Reno address.”

  What does this mean? Is he trying to say he wants me to know where he lives? I decide not to overanalyze his comment. “Okay.”

  “Reading that makes me want to watch the movies,” he says.

  “I know what you mean.”

  A smile curves his mouth. “I think I have the movies here. Would you like to watch them?”

  I remember seeing a TV in his bedroom. Is he just trying to get me in there? Do I want him to try to get me in there? I don’t know. “Uh. Sure.”

  “I can even pop some popcorn.”

  I can’t hold back a smile at the look on his face—kind of like the look he got when we built the snowman, then had the snowball fight—and I rethink my assumptions that he has an ulterior motive. After all, I told him I have a boyfriend, so maybe as much as he’s been flirting with me, perhaps it was all for fun. Maybe he has a girlfriend and has no intention of cheating on her.

  Feeling a mix of relief and disappointment, I get up from the
recliner and follow him into the kitchen.

  “I just have the buttered popcorn flavor,” he says. “But it’s really good.”

  “That’s my favorite kind anyway.”

  He puts it in the microwave and a few minutes later he pours the freshly popped corn into a large bowl. Turning to me, he says, “Ready?”

  I nod, and follow him toward the stairs. As we climb the stairs, then walk down the hall, I watch his muscular body and wonder what it would feel like to have those arms around me. The thought startles me and I almost turn around and go into my room.

  “My TV’s in here,” he says as he crosses the threshold to his bedroom. He sets the popcorn on his dresser and turns to me with a smirk. “But since you’ve been in here, you already know that.”

  A blush rises on my cheeks as I vividly recall our encounter in his closet only hours before.

  He gestures to his bed. “Make yourself comfortable.” Then he turns his back on me as he opens a drawer where he stores his Blu-ray discs.

  I stand where I am, my gaze darting between him and the King-size bed, and war with myself over whether this is a mistake. Get over yourself. You’re just going to watch a movie. I remind myself that I survived the jacuzzi, and slowly climb onto the bed, then scoot back until I’m leaning against the pillows, making sure I’m as close to the edge of the bed as I can get without falling off. I watch Drake as he turns his TV on, then places a disc into a Blu-ray player.

  A moment later he turns to me with a smile, then carries the popcorn to the bed and climbs on. He sits toward the center of the bed, so we’re only a few feet apart, then he sets the popcorn down between us. He motions to the popcorn. “Help yourself.”

  The disc loads and the movie starts, and I settle against the pillows, trying to forget that I’m on Drake’s bed, and that he’s within easy reach of me. And that I’m within his reach as well.

  Chapter Twenty One

  Half an hour into the movie, I’m enjoying it and feeling more relaxed, even eating popcorn.