by A. O. Peart
“You shouldn’t have talked with anyone. Did you tell him your name?” Ethan asked in harsh voice. His eyes bored into my face.
“I told him it’s Gloria.”
“You talked with him for what… one minute and already gave him your name? What else, a phone number?”
Geez, really? Why was he so pissed?
“Ethan, I was just polite. He introduced himself, so I simply reciprocated. That’s all. I didn’t accept the invitation, if that’s what you’re so angry about.”
“I’m not angry,” he denied. His brows drew together, and a deep, horizontal grove marked his smooth forehead.
I looked at him passively, without making a comment. With the corner of my towel, I attempted to dry my hair. But no matter how carefully I pulled on it so the rest of the towel wouldn’t slide off me, I wasn’t succeeding. Finally, I gave up and wrapped the towel closer around my body.
“Do not talk to anyone again,” he demanded in a controlled, quiet voice that carried a load of insistence. And then he walked off.
I wondered where Jack was. Maybe he could provide some necessary buffer between Ethan and me? I looked back toward the cabin, but saw see neither of them.
The party crowd turned down the music and was singing the “Happy Birthday” song. Most of the voices sounded either off-key or drunk. Or both. What I wanted now was to be inside Ethan’s cabin, lying in bed, and dreaming of a safer future.
Chapter Twenty Three
ETHAN
This was hopeless. I was lost in her; lost in some stupid, naïve, childish dream. What the hell did she have in her that none of the other women haven’t possessed? I was always in control. Always! She shattered my orderly life and turned my neatly composed world upside fucking down! This couldn’t be happening. This had to stop. I wasn’t looking for any changes, for any altered way of living. But here came Miss Different and kicked everything I so meticulously worked for to the curb.
I paced around my bedroom, swearing quietly under my breath, clenching and unclenching my jaw. I stopped by the window and deliberately looked at her. She appeared so soft and small, wrapped in that towel. So alone; all on her own out on that dock. Lonely…
Stop that fucking nonsense! I chastised myself. She’s a grown woman, not that sixteen-year-old Afghan orphan kid!
I sat heavily on my bed, my eyes squeezed shut, my head in my hands. But I wasn’t thinking of Najia. All my thoughts were with Lisbeth. She wasn’t a child that needed protection, but a grown woman, although she needed protection too, and I offered it. Why couldn’t I simply provide only what I offered and nothing more? I had nothing more to give. Or did I?
Why would I want her for myself? There were dozens of willing women, waiting for one smile, one word from me; experienced women who knew what the guy like me desired. They were eager to give to me anything I ever required of them. They liked to serve me, to please me, to satisfy all my sexual needs. She, on the other hand, was completely green, I was sure of that. I could sense it. Why would I even want to bother? She would probably just get scared off when she learned how I liked things in the bedroom.
I got up to my feet and went to the window. Again. Fuck. She was a magnet, luring me, possessing me. Me, who has never succumbed to a woman’s charms for longer than a few nights. No matter than I knew her only for two days. I already realized she was going to be my undoing—if I let her.
I turned my back to the window as another thought struck me. Maybe we should do it, to get that crazy attraction out of our systems? Maybe that was only a freaky fascination? A whim? Hormones going awry? What would she say to that? No, I didn’t want to. I knew better—she wasn’t like the others. I shouldn’t let her close to me.
Jack went to Ryley’s cabin to for the night. He promised to return early morning, but if anything started happening here, he wanted me to call right away. I was a lucky bastard to have the best friend like Jack. He was always there for me. I tried to reciprocate, but Jack lived a simple, boring life with no conflicts, no problems, and no need for any intervention. Nevertheless, I owed him big time.
It started to get dark. Lisbeth was still sitting on the dock, facing away from the cabin. Damn girl. Why couldn’t she just come in, eat dinner, and quietly go to bed? I baked macaroni and cheese then grilled some chicken breasts, which I kept warm in the oven.
I was low on wood for the fire pit outside and for the wood burning stove. That was a good timing, since I badly needed a distraction. I went outside, got an axe from my little shed, and went to the side of the cabin where the larger pieces of wood were stored under the eaves.
I turned to look at Lisbeth. Nothing changed since I checked on her last—she still sat on the dock, watching the sunset. It painted the evening sky in a myriad of colors.
I took the largest piece of wood, placed it over the chopping block, and grasped the axe with both hands. I lifted the axe over my head and brought it down with as much force as I could muster. The wood split in half, small bits flying to the sides. I picked one of the halves, put it back on the chopping block, repositioned it again, and brought the axe down once more. I repeated the sequence a few more times, adding new chunks of wood to the block.
Sweat ran down my chest and stomach, down my back, and along my arms and neck. I took my t-shirt off. I ran it over my upper body, soaking as much sweat as it would take. Next, I wiped my forehead with the back of my arm, picked the axe from the ground, and took a long, deep breath. Another piece of wood split in two.
I continued until there was a neat stack of wood for burning. There was no need for more, but I kept going: the wood chunk, the axe, the slam, the halves. Repeat. Over and over, until my arms shook and my shoulders and upper back screamed in protest. I wiped the sweat off my face and neck once more and closed my eyes, lifting my face to the sky.
“That’s a lot of wood,” I heard a soft voice from behind.
I turned, and there she was, with her hair carelessly tousled, wrapped in the towel, deliciously half-naked under it. My cock immediately stirred and painfully stiffened, reminding me of the nagging need I tried to so methodically suppress.
I breathed in and out, looking at her—so soft and beautiful. It would be easy to rip that towel off her, to kiss her senseless, and drive my hardened length into her sweet, slick-with-desire center. I had no doubts she wanted me. Badly. Just the way I wanted her. Or maybe I wanted her more.
But instead, I said, “You didn’t have any dinner. Aren’t you hungry?”
She shrugged one shoulder and smiled shyly.
“I made mac and cheese. Come.” I motioned to her.
She followed me without one question. I returned the axe to the shed, locked it, and walked inside the cabin. Lisbeth went to the bathroom to wash up, while I used the kitchen sink to scrub my hands. I suspected she would dart up the stairs to put her clothes back on, but she emerged from the bathroom still in the towel wrapped around her.
“Sit,” I ordered.
She tilted her head and gave me a pointed look. I knew exactly what she wanted. But I wasn’t inclined to let her have her way. There would be no “please” or a “thank you” tonight. Yeah, I was acting like a complete jerk, but that was the only way to keep her away and my own desire at bay.
I brought two bowls, silverware, and two wine glasses from the kitchen. Next, I carried a chilled bottle of Fess Parker Chardonnay and a bowl of salad to the table.
“I didn’t make any salad dressing, so the store-bought will have to do,” I announced.
“You make your own salad dressing?” Her eyes went wide, and her lips parted. God, those lips… it was a torture to look at them and restrain myself. I returned to the kitchen to fetch the bottles of salad dressing. I had Thousand Island, Bacon Ranch, Italian Vinaigrette, and my favorite Honey-Apricot-Poppy Seed. My mouth watered every time I looked at it.
I placed all four bottles in the middle of the table and said, “I don’t put croutons in the salads. Hope it’s okay.”
&nb
sp; “It’s totally fine. I don’t care for croutons myself.” There was that shy, gentle smile again. It would melt me if I let it.
Lisbeth adjusted the towel, pulling it up higher in front and securing it by tucking the corner between her breasts. She seemed clueless of the effect she had on me. It took a lot of restrain on my part not to cross to her side of the table and tear that towel right off her.
“I don’t have a lot of clothes,” she said as if reading my mind. “Can I use your washer and dryer after dinner?”
“Of course. Everything you need to do the laundry is in the garage. I’ll show you later.”
I sat across the table from Lisbeth, keeping a safe distance so her proximity wouldn’t set off the heat inside again. This was becoming to be a major test for my self-control, but I decided I had to like this particular challenge. Or, at least, I would take it like the man I was, with my teeth gritted, and my eager cock disciplined to obedience.
I held the dish with salad for her. “Help yourself.”
“Thank you.” She scooped some greens onto her bowl and reached for the Honey-Apricot-Poppy Seed dressing. “I love this one.”
“My favorite too.”
“So Jack won’t join us for dinner?”
“He already ate. Didn’t want to wait that long.” I was mad at him for not staying, but he insisted on leaving and coming back in the morning. Asshole.
I opened the wine and poured some in each of the two glasses.
“This is so nice,” Lisbeth said. She avoided my eyes.
“I hope you like this wine.” I picked my glass and carefully swirled it in my fingers. The golden liquid churned, licking the insides of the glass and trickling back down. It left tiny dribbles on its way down. It was an excellent Chardonnay. I watched in pleasure its slow, hypnotic dance.
“Why do people do that?”
“Do what?” I glanced up. She was pointing to my glass.
“Swirl the wine glass?”
“To allow oxygen into the liquid. It’s to aerate the wine.” I looked into those big, green eyes and then quickly away. I cleared my throat and added, “Basically, the oxygen intensifies fragrance of wine and helps release some of the key substances which, in turn, improve the bouquet.”
I was far from being wine expert and hoped that I didn’t sound like some kind of a snob. One of my cousins owned a small winery in the Willamette Valley. Most of the family valued good wine.
“Hmm,” Lisbeth said with appreciation in her voice. She carefully swirled her own glass.
“Now smell it. Is the fragrance more intense?” This was a great distraction. Concentrating on something else than the thin, black bra peaking from under that damn towel was what I needed now.
She brought her glass close to her face and, closing her eyes, inhaled deeply. And then she sighed, long and slow. So much for a great distraction from wine. Fuck.
I took a sip, focusing on its sweet oak and a tart citrus taste. It was a perfect flavor combination, lasting on the palate just right.
Lisbeth turned the bottle to see the label. “This tastes wonderful, so fresh and light, but satisfying at the same time.”
I smiled. She was right.
We ate in silence. I started to feel restless. That weird awareness nagged at me again, as if we were watched. I didn’t want to freak Lisbeth out, so I kept it to myself. I should just blame my over-stimulated senses, although there was no way I would so easily dismiss that something actually bothered me.
Lisbeth stood up. “I’ll bring mac and cheese. Should I chop the chicken pieces?” she asked on her way to the kitchen.
I didn’t look at her. I kept my eyes on my salad, telling myself that all the colors and shapes of the baby lettuce in my bowl were fascinating. “That would be great. The knives are in the drawer under the cutting board.”
“Got it.”
“Do you need help?” Say no. I can’t be that close to you now.
“I can manage.”
I exhaled with relief and took a small sip of wine. Something stabbed at my consciousness. My eyes flew to the glass back door. I listened, but the only sounds I could catch besides Lisbeth chopping the chicken in the kitchen, were the idiots on those party boats, making more racket than it was humanly possible.
I glanced back toward the kitchen. Lisbeth didn’t notice my awareness. Slowly, I reached for my knapsack. I withdrew my pistol and stole another glance at Lisbeth. She had her back to me, scooping the mac and cheese onto plates. I stuck the gun behind my jeans waistband, covering it with the hem of my t-shirt.
Taking a slow breath, I quietly stood up. She was still busy at the kitchen counter. I didn’t want her to get any close to the windows. What I needed to do was to get her out of here all together. But I also knew she could have gone into her panic attack.
“Have you talked with your lawyer today?” I asked, keeping my voice conversational.
“No, I keep pushing it off. But I better do that.” She didn’t look up from the cutting board.
“Why won’t you go and make a quick call while I finish this?”
Lisbeth glanced at me then, frowning. I forced myself to smile indifferently for her benefit. I probably didn’t look very convincing. Nevertheless, she rather reluctantly went up the stairs to her bedroom.
As soon as I heard her door close, I scribbled a note: DON’T FREAK OUT. STAY IN YOUR ROOM. DO NOT GO OUTSIDE. I’LL BE BACK IN A FEW MOMENTS.
I went to the garage and carefully opened the side door, gun at the ready. My eyes scanned the immediate area outside, while I kept near the inside wall. There were no movement and no suspicious sounds. The night was slowly setting in. I had a motion-activated light installed on each side of the cabin. If anyone was trying to sneak up, the light would go off.
The party on the boats was still going strong. It shouldn’t continue for much longer, or someone would finally call the cops. The clamor they were making would be a perfect cover for any gunshots. I doubted the neighbors would hear them, especially because my cabin sat far away from any other homes, surrounded only by thick woods.
With my back pressed to the wall, I went just outside the garage door. I stopped there before the motion-activated light came to life. By now my eyes were used to the dark and registered everything around. I was trained to differentiate and notice immediately whatever was out of ordinary. But nothing so far was. I closed the garage door behind me. It locked, so nobody from the outside could enter without the key.
I continued moving around the cabin, until I came to the spot under Lisbeth’s bedroom window. The window was open, and I could hear her voice, although it was hard to catch the words, curtesy of the fucking party boat.
No matter thought. She would, most likely, tell me what she learned from the lawyer. I proceeded scanning the area, my senses on the highest alert. I made the full circle until I arrived back at the garage side door. I went in the opposite direction until I was on the other side of the cabin. There, I stepped further into the woods. I found a good hiding spot from where I could observe the front, the back, and that side of the cabin.
I sat on the ground, perfectly hidden from view by the thick greenery and the veil of the night. My back pushed onto a tree trunk. The ground in this part of the woods was covered with dry leaves, pine needles, and small pieces of broken branches. If anyone tried to sneak up on me, I would hear them approach.
I waited, still and alert, listening, concentrated on the surroundings.
A light breeze rustling the leaves; the pungent fragrance of the woods; the distant music and drunken voices from the boats.
More waiting. Nothing changed. The woods stood still and undisturbed. The motion-activated lights didn’t come on, so I was sure there was no movement by the cabin either. No new sounds.
My phone vibrated against my thigh. I pulled it out and looked at the screen. It was Jack, checking in. I typed ALL FINE HERE. There wasn’t anything going on. Maybe my so-called sixth sense ran on overload and totally freake
d out on me.
I put the phone back in my pocket and decided to wait another five minutes. After that time, I slowly stood up, with the gun in my hand. I scanned the area. Nothing. Without making any unnecessary noise, I crept back to the cabin. I searched the immediate area once more and then unlocked the glass back door.
I walked up the stairs and called out, “Lisbeth, it’s me. Where are you?”
Her bedroom door flew open. She was crying and shivering. “What’s going on? Where did you go? That note… it scared me so much.”
She wasn’t wearing the towel. Instead, she only had on a panties and a bra—both scanty enough to leave very little covered. It felt as if my heart flipped in my chest, and a rush of heat roared down to my crotch.
“I’m sorry. I thought I sensed something weird. It’s okay, nothing’s wrong.”
She leaned against the door jam and covered her face with her hands, sobbing quietly. I wanted to go to her, to comfort her, but I knew that would end up where it shouldn’t, especially because she was practically naked. The proximity to her bed was tempting. Too tempting. My self-control around Lisbeth was crumbling down, and I wasn’t taking any chances.
“Hey, look at me,” I said maybe a bit too harshly. “You can’t freak out every time I go to check the area. I’ll do that again and again, because of the circumstances. What you must do instead is to get yourself together and stay calm. Or as calm as you can.”
Lisbeth took a few shaky breaths, wiped her eyes off, but didn’t stop trembling. Don’t get a panic attack now, please. I was angry with myself because I couldn’t trust myself to comfort her. Instead, I felt like an asshole. But that was better than remorse I would feel if I ended up having sex with her. I reminded myself over and over, Off limits!
“Put some clothes on and come downstairs. Tell me about your phone call,” I said and walked off.
Chapter Twenty Four