The Cabin

by Alice Ward

  The old barkeep grinned and whipped a towel over his shoulder. “What’re you having tonight?”

  I checked the tap, happy with the unusual selections. “I’ll try the Mosaic Dream.”

  His grin grew wider. “Fine choice, my friend.”

  I watched him expertly pour the dark orange liquid, ending with a perfect one-inch head. I thanked him and opened a tab, sliding my AmEx Black across the gleaming wood. I liked it here. The gnawing sensation that had been sinking its teeth into me loosened and began to disappear. This was a place I fit in.

  A group of women at one of the tables began to yell. A tall blonde with a short crop of hair stood up, waving at someone near the door.

  And I saw her.

  She was dressed casually. Ripped jeans and a white loose-fitting, buttoned up shirt, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. I smiled. We were dressed nearly identically, down to the brown shoes, hers some type of pointy flats to my loafers.

  Her dark auburn hair was pulled back from her face, caught at the back of her neck in a low ponytail, exposing high cheekbones and full lips. It was her smile that caused my cock to twitch. A radiant smile that lit up a freckled face that was more interesting than classically beautiful, but I realized I was drawn to her more than any of her more glamorous friends.

  As her friends gathered her closer to their table, the blonde pulled her in for a tight hug. The redhead tossed her huge leather bag on the back of her chair and turned to hug another friend, giving me a good glimpse of her ass. It was perfect beneath the denim.

  And I was fucking staring.

  And I couldn’t stop.

  Still smiling, her tall friend said something to her, and she glanced around the bar, taking in the band. Then she turned and seemed to be considering the type of beer she wanted.

  See me, I willed her in my mind, needing to see her eyes.

  At first, her eyes swept past me, then snapped back to my face an instant later. My balls drew closer to my body as she swallowed hard. Time slowed as we stared at one another, and a low heat began building in my chest. Blue eyes, I thought, although I couldn’t be exactly sure in the dim light above her table that cast a shadow over her face. I desperately wanted to find out if I was right.

  Lifting my glass in a silent toast, I smiled when she looked over her shoulder, checking behind her, no doubt wondering if I was looking at someone else.

  It’s you. Only you.

  She licked her lips as her eyes met mine again, confusion clouding her pretty features. Her friends regained her attention when they all jumped to their feet as the band transitioned to a cover of… what the hell? Get Lucky? Yes, that was the song. Pharrell and Daft Punk would be proud.

  I wasn’t the only man in the room eyeing the five women on the dance floor, but my eyes didn’t leave the riot of dark auburn curls swinging in contrast to her white shirt. They were having fun, and my mood lightened even more as I watched her laugh, the total joy expressed in her every movement. There was nothing seductive about her, but my cock was paying attention. Not just in response to her generous ass swaying side to side. She was so much more than that.

  She turned, and her eyes lifted to mine, then widened slightly to find me still watching her. Then she smiled. Just at me. For me.

  The exhaustion faded away. The tension. Everything.

  I stood and headed in her direction as she mouthed the words to the song.

  Get lucky.

  I sure as hell hoped so.

  But only with her.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Scarlett

  It was after ten o’clock, and I was exhausted but had promised Amy I’d drop by the bar for a few minutes at least. I showered in the women’s locker room at the hospital and pulled on the spare jeans and shirt I kept there for occasions just like this. She told me that the bar wasn’t fancy, so I didn’t need to run home and change into anything better. Besides, it was only for a few minutes, I kept telling myself. I needed sleep before I had to be on my feet for another twelve hours tomorrow.

  The minute I saw Amy’s face, I was glad I’d made the effort to come by. There was also Kim, Jana, and Tami rounding out the group, ladies I’d grown to adore.

  “The band is great,” I yelled over the noise, turning to take a look at the five-piece group on the little stage. I wasn’t ordinarily a fan of jazz, and it wasn’t something on my playlist, but listening to it in person always brought a new appreciation of the unpredictable jittery sounds that meshed together into something that simply made me happy.

  “I know,” Amy yelled back, her hips swaying side to side to a laid-back, bluesy rendition of a song I vaguely recognized but couldn’t name. “What do you want to drink?”

  I turned to the bar, looking to see what was on tap for tonight. It had been so long since I’d gone out I couldn’t even remember which one I liked. As I took in the room, I caught a glimpse of… whoa. A glimpse of him.

  Dark hair fell across a forehead I itched to stroke with my fingers, wanting to soothe the line of what looked like tension away. He sat on a stool beneath a soft light that gave me a good view of him. His eyes reminded me of a tiger and pierced me, pinned me to the floor where I stood. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. He was ruggedly handsome, with a raw sexuality that pulled at me in a way I’d never experienced before.

  He lifted his glass and smiled in my direction. Was he really looking at me?

  The part of my brain still able to process incoming data wasn’t certain at all. I looked over my shoulder, knowing I’d probably see some incredible-looking woman right behind me, and then I’d be a fool for thinking any man who looked like him would be interested in someone like me. Behind me, there was nothing but a couple of tables of men leering at Amy’s ass, which made me then wonder if it was my best friend Mr. Gorgeous was staring at.

  When I found the courage to look back at him, he was still smiling, and my toes curled in my shoes. I found a sudden need to press my thighs together, to sooth away the ache that was growing there.

  I was saved from more uncertainty when Jana jumped up, clapping her hands, a huge smile on her face. “I love this song,” she yelled and grabbed Tami’s arm, who then grabbed Kim’s arm, who then grabbed Amy’s arm, who then grabbed mine. Soon, all five of us were on the dance floor, and I finally recognized the song and began to sing along to the familiar lyrics.

  “Get Lucky.”

  A shiver went through me as Mr. Gorgeous stood and headed in my direction, his lion’s eyes still penetrating me as I mouthed the lyrics.

  I wanted to be up till the sun.

  With him.

  I wanted to have fun.

  With him.

  And god yes, I wanted to get lucky.

  Which was a terrifying thought.

  I didn’t do lucky. Especially within five seconds of meeting a man.

  But I wanted lucky now. I wanted it with every breath in my body.

  “Hi.”

  I realized I’d stopped moving as he approached and was just standing like a dork in the middle of the dance floor. I was jolted from behind, and from the height of the ass on my back I knew it had to be Amy, who was giving me a little push in his direction.

  He reached out, his hands circling my arms to steady me from her bump. I licked my suddenly dry lips. “Hi. We’re twins.”

  Like me, he was in jeans and a white button up, looking similar even down to the brown shoes. “Yeah,” he said, a smile curling up one side of his mouth. “Fraternal or identical?”

  I laughed, even while feeling a stab of pain at the memory of my twin, but shook it away as we just stood there while the music and people faded. He smiled and dropped one hand from my arm and offered it into the space between us. I took it, my fingers curling around his warm palm. He smiled wider, making me smile too, and the moment was like a dream as he pulled me into a swaying dance.

  He was a head taller than me, forcing me to crane my neck to look at him, making me feel petite and small, even thou
gh I measured out at an even five-seven. His thumb made little circles on my back as we moved to the music, the span of his hand nearly taking up my entire lower back.

  “Why me?”

  I hadn’t meant to ask the question, but since it had escaped, I wanted the answer.

  His golden eyes searched my face, the smile falling away from his lips. “I don’t know.”

  I liked that he told me the truth. I liked that he appeared as stunned by our immediate connection as I was. I liked his face. I liked the smell of the beer on his breath, the light tones of some body wash on his skin. I liked the calluses on the hand holding mine, the way it engulfed my fingers.

  “Can I buy you a drink?” he asked and motioned his head toward the bar after the next song ended and we drew apart to clap for the band, who announced they were taking a short break.

  I licked my lips again, my core squeezing as his eyes fell to my mouth to follow the movement. “I’d like that very much.”

  This was a dream, I thought as I turned to find Amy and let her know where I was going. She was grinning big, two thumbs up in the air. Go, she mouthed with a wink.

  Still holding my hand, he led me to the bar where he’d been sitting before, waiting until I was seated before reclaiming his stool, turning until he was facing me, his long legs brushing mine. “What do you want?”

  You.

  I eyed his beer. “What’s that?”

  He pushed it toward me. “Mosaic Dream.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “It looks hoppy.”

  He laughed, a deep rumbling sound that vibrated through my chest. “It is. Want to try? It has an unusual blend of fruits. Citrus. Pineapple, maybe some mango.”

  That caught my attention. “I love mangos. The taste of course, but I also love the experience of eating them. The attention to detail needed to get all the flesh from the pit. The messiness. The…” I trailed off, realizing I sounded like a true dork.

  He was smiling, little crinkle lines at the corners of his eyes deepening the effect. He really was handsome. Older. In his early to middle thirties, I would guess. I turned more fully on the stool until I was facing him, my knees pressed inside his thighs, so close to his…

  Very slowly, he lifted a hand in my direction, but it stopped between us in a shaking hands gesture. Automatically, I pressed my palm against his, and I realized he was about to introduce himself. “I’m—”

  “Shhh,” I shushed quickly, interrupting him, and he gave me a confused look. I felt the blush creep up my cheeks and rushed to explain myself. “Forgive me if this sounds really stupid, but things like this don’t ever happen to me. It feels like a dream, and I realize I really like the fantasy feel of having you pay attention to me.”

  The grin was back, curling up just one side of his mouth, transforming his handsome face into a much younger one. “Do you like fantasies?”

  My insides curled. “Yes. I often find them more palatable than real life.”

  He nodded, growing more serious. “I understand and can relate. I’m actually leaving tomorrow morning to escape reality for a while.”

  My stomach squeezed again, but this time for a different reason. He was leaving. Better to keep this encounter in the fantasy realm then. “Leaving New York?”

  He lifted his beer, took a long sip, and handed it to me. I searched his ring finger for any hint of a white line, but didn’t see one. Good. At least he wasn’t married, from what I could tell. “Leaving the States. For a year at least, maybe longer.”

  The truth again. He was letting me know that he was unavailable after tonight. Or maybe it was a lie and he used the smooth line on all the women he picked up and wanted gone by morning. Searching his amber eyes, I realized I didn’t care.

  I looked down at the beer and lifted it to my nose, inhaling deeply. It immediately wrinkled, and he laughed. “Told you it was hoppy. Can I get you something lighter?”

  Feeling brave, I went ahead and lifted it to my lips. Took a sip. Then shivered, thrusting it back at him. It was super hoppy, but he was right, I also tasted the fruit in the background. And grass? “Yes, something lighter please, by a lot.”

  My mystery stranger ordered me something that wasn’t Michelob Light, which was my normal beer choice, and I was pleasantly surprised at how pale it was. I took a sip, then another. “Much better.”

  He laughed and picked up his glass. “To fantasies turning into amazing realities.”

  I tapped my glass to his, my toes curling again. He was so sexual, in a raw, primal way. I was drawn to him. Comfortable with him. This was new.

  I’d had boyfriends before, one for as long as a year, most as short as a few months. I had a strict five-date rule before I had sex with a guy, thinking three dates just wasn’t enough to get past the I’m on my best behavior persona. Plus, if a guy didn’t have the patience to wait, I knew he wouldn’t have the patience for other important things in my life. Things like long drives and hikes into the mountains, or spending hours forming clay bowls on my little potter’s wheel. Five dates seemed to be the magic number to determine if our interests aligned.

  Until now.

  He licked a bit of foam from his upper lip, and his tongue made me jealous. I wanted to do that for him, then chew on that bottom lip for a while. The man, in the span of just a few minutes, was making me feel beautiful, and that knowledge made me feel powerful. I liked the fantasy my mystery stranger had woven around me. Liked the way he looked at me. The way his hand kept reaching for mine.

  “Call me Delilah.”

  He raised a brow, the right side of his mouth quirking up. “Delilah, huh? Are you going to be my downfall? Shall I skip the struggle and just shave my head now?”

  I laughed, enjoying the banter between us, the ease in which it was delivered. Reaching up, I flicked the dark strands back from his forehead. “I like your hair, so you can keep it. What should I call you?”

  He didn’t hesitate. “Samson, of course.”

  I grinned. “Is it bad that we’re using Biblical names for a hookup? Does that automatically send us to hell?”

  He looked at me curiously, a high level of intelligence behind those incredible amber eyes. “Do you believe in hell?”

  My grin faded as we launched into a discussion so unexpected. Wasn’t religion, or lack of it, one of the things you avoided talking about in polite company? “I don’t know. Until I’ve seen something with my own eyes, I find it difficult to believe it’s real.” I found myself growing wistful. “Although I have to admit that the idea of having a heaven filled with angelic loved ones waiting on the other side is appealing. What about you?”

  He looked down into his beer again, the line on his forehead reappearing. “I feel the same, although I sometimes wonder if hell could be much worse than the horrors so many people often experience on earth.”

  I nodded, thinking of the encephalitis baby from earlier today, born with a seriously misshapen head. How the parents mourned the little one, kissing him as if he was the most beautiful child ever born.

  “Why so sad?”

  I blinked at Samson, and just thinking of his name made me smile. “Sorry, just had a difficult day at work.”

  Curiosity sparked in his gaze again. “What do you do?”

  I smiled and popped an imaginary balloon with my finger. “Hey now. Are you trying to spoil my fantasy here?”

  He took my hand, turned it over, and traced a finger over my palm. “So, what does Delilah do for a living?”

  I had to think about it for a moment. I didn’t remember wanting anything other than to be a nurse and deliver babies. Of course, that dream had almost been hijacked when I was sixteen and had vowed to become a wedding planner. I remembered buying all the bridal books and begging my aunt to let me use the sheer curtains on the farmhouse windows as a veil.

  “Delilah is a wedding planner.”

  My hand thunked into my lap as Samson let go of me and raised his hands as if in surrender. It made me laugh, and I slapped at his t
high, batting my lashes as I got into my role. “I deliver the dreams of brides everywhere.” Deliver. Had to get that in there somewhere.

  Samson took a long drink of his beer. “Yeah, dreams until the seven-year itch starts itching and divorce lawyers come knocking on their door.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “Cynical much?”

  He made a “ha” sound, then shook his head and grinned. “Actually, not really. My parents had their fortieth anniversary not long ago. I have evidence that marriage can work.” He made a face, a comical-looking twist of his lips. “Why exactly are we talking about marriage?”

  I fluttered my lashes. “Why, Samson, are you falling under my spell already?”

  “Yes.”

  There had been no hesitation. No grin. Just a small dilation of his pupils that seemed to darken his eyes, and my heart began to thud in my chest.

  He leaned closer and lifted a hand to my face, but instead of touching my cheek, he went for the ponytail holder at the nape of my neck. Very gently, he pulled it down the length, then smiled as my hair exploded into a mass of curls around my face.

  “It’s the exact same color as your freckles,” he said, tucking a strand behind my ear.

  It was such an unexpected comment, an observation that felt oddly intimate, then his hand was at my face, cupping my cheek. I leaned into the warmth. The strength. Emotions I’d never experienced poured through me at the gentle touch. “They were called deformities today.”

  The universe was robbed of all oxygen as he shook his head, leaned forward, and pressed his lips to my right cheek, then the left cheek, then the very tip of my nose.

  “Will you come to my room?”

  His room.

  Not his house, or apartment. His room. A hotel. Because he was leaving the United States tomorrow, and would be gone for at least a year. Or so he said. I didn’t know his name — by my choice. I didn’t know his occupation — also by my choice. I knew nothing about him — again, by my choice. On top of all that, if I went with him, I’d be betraying my very clear and established five-date rule.