Carla tipped back her beer and emptied the mug by a third. “You took thirty-seven years to learn that?”
“Hey, thirty-six, remember?”
“Forgive me for not memorizing every detail of our fateful encounter.” Carla slapped her hand over her heart as if wounded.
I grinned. This woman was so easy to talk to. There was no jumping through hoops to please her, pretending to listen, or having to struggle to meet her expectations.
“I don’t suppose you’re up for a drinking buddy for the rest of the evening?” I asked, risking my luck.
Her face lit up. God, she was beautiful.
“That sounds great to me.”
Several hours later, the two of us were buzzed. More than that. We were drunk, through and through.
“So, Carla, what’s with the whole going by a guy’s name?” I asked after my fifth whiskey.
Carla laughed easily. “I was a tomboy. I’m pretty sure even my friends sometimes doubted I was actually a girl. Not that I had many female friends in the first place.”
“Still, I honestly believed you were a guy this whole time. I just … can’t believe that.”
“Neither can I. I suppose neither of us came up on each other’s radars. I make it a point not to date local men.”
“Oh, so this isn’t a date?” I asked.
“In your dreams.” She slugged my arm in response.
It didn’t hurt in the slightest, but I could tell that she could make it hurt if she wanted to. Definitely a tomboy at heart.
“Surely the reason you wouldn’t date me is that I’m a client, rather than a local, right?” I asked out of interest. “I spent years in New York for college and work. I’d hardly say I’m the same as the guys who’ve never crossed state lines.”
“Once a local, always a local,” she replied dismissively. “But, yeah, I suppose I wouldn’t date a client.”
Her eyes lifting was suggestive, but the absence of a smile was sad, and I wondered why she seemed so conflicted.
“What made you return to Frazier Falls, anyway?” she asked, changing the subject before I could question her.
I shrugged my shoulders. “I missed my brothers. I missed the simple way of living. New York was far too busy. Living in the city was cramped and claustrophobic, and I suffered some major panic attacks when I lived there.”
Oh. I hadn’t meant to say that. Only Eli knew about them because he’d walked in on one. Sometimes I wondered if that had been his motivation to ask me to set up Cooper Construction with him.
An expression flitted across her face. Sympathy? Compassion? Something about her opinion of me seemed to have changed for the better. She was staring at me with a look I hadn’t yet seen from her—respect.
She guzzled down the rest of her beer.
“Takes a lot for anyone to admit to something like that,” she said. “It takes even more for someone to return home without feeling like it’s a step backward. I may have misjudged you, Owen Cooper.”
“Is that so?”
She gave me a cautious smile. “Are you okay now? Do you ever get any—”
“No,” I quickly cut in. I didn’t mention the one, solitary bonafide panic attack that hit me after my father had died or the mini ones that threatened to take me down a black hole each time I succumbed to pressure. It wasn’t something I spoke of often, if at all. Not even Eli was aware. “There’s something about the air here. Or maybe it’s the people. I don’t know. Either way, Frazier Falls is good for me.”
“Something we can agree on.”
We were silent for a few minutes. Discussing panic attacks was a great way to ruin a good atmosphere. I struggled for something to say.
“So … what do you do for fun?” I eventually asked.
She looked thoughtful for a moment, then an irresistibly wicked grin spread across her face.
“Ever gone swimming in the creek after dark?”
“Not since I was a kid,” I sputtered, thinking about Carla swimming—very naked—in the cold water. My mind was in the gutter these days.
“You asked what I did for fun. I haven’t been in a long time. I’m overdue, I’d say.” She paused for a moment as if considering whether to ask her next question. Then she locked eyes with me. “Care to go for a swim?”
I’d never agreed to something so quickly in all my life.
Chapter Eight
Carla
I hadn’t been drunk by the creek at night since I was a teenager, let alone on a Monday night with one man instead of a group of rowdy boys.
Wondering what had gotten into me to ask such a bold request of Owen, I giggled and stumbled onto the grassy bank of the creek alongside the man in question. Going swimming when drunk, and at night no less, was not a good idea, but the creek was deeper here, and the current non-existent. In fact, this spot was more of a swimming hole than the shallow river its name implied. In the spring, the runoff from the snow spilled over the cliff to create the beautiful falls the town was named after. The water appeared to come directly from the Frazier pines that lined the ridge.
The air carried only the slightest breeze. A perfect night for a swim grew more perfect when Owen lifted his T-shirt.
I hummed my appreciation at the sight of him. Couldn’t take my eyes off the cords of muscle that shaped his chest and abs. “Do you work shirtless when you’re building?”
He rolled his eyes as he pulled the garment up and over his head. “Are you stereotyping my job, Carla?”
It was hard not to as I took in his impressive pecs and abs, visible even in the moonlight. It almost looked as if they were rippling. My eyes left his core to gawk at his arms. God, it was so easy to imagine those tightly muscled arms wrapped around me, picking me up off my feet …
“Carla?”
I laughed. “Sorry. I was checking you out.”
He raised an eyebrow. “And you’re sorry about that?”
“No. Not at all. Just sorry I was so obvious.”
“If that’s the case …” Owen grinned. “It’s your turn.”
“But I’m wearing a dress … it wouldn’t be fair.”
“You want me to remove my jeans, too?” He lifted a brow. “I aim to please.” And he did without so much as a hint of modesty. He unlaced his boots, sliding them off before unbuttoning his jeans and moving them down strong-looking thighs. He looked at me pointedly as he threw his clothes to the side of the bank. All he wore was form-fitting boxers. “Okay, now it’s definitely your turn.”
I gave as good as I got. I made a show of slowly undoing the buttons on the bodice of my dress, stopping for a moment when I reached my waist. I looked up to find Owen watching every movement of my fingers. The man was enraptured.
“Why did you stop?”
I nibbled on my bottom lip, wondering if I could be so bold. It was the beer, I told myself, but that was a lie. I was attracted to Owen, and for a moment, I wanted to forget about everything but him. “I was thinking you might want to unbutton the rest.” I gestured toward the final few.
The gap between us closed with a step, his fingers making quick work of my remaining buttons. When he was done, he moved his hands across my bare stomach, up to my bra, and over my shoulders before the dress fell to the ground with a gentle whoosh.
Despite the soft breeze, my skin tingled as if it were on fire. It burned all the more when Owen’s fingers trailed across it. His eyes bored into mine even as his hands continued to explore the rest of me.
“You’re … damn gorgeous, Carla,” he murmured.
“You’re a smooth talker, Owen.”
He laughed, but it was low and quiet and … incredibly sexy. “I don’t know how else to put it.”
“I guess I share the same sentiment about you.” I quirked my lips up slightly as I placed an exploratory hand on his chest, and then another.
We didn’t say anything after that, content to feel each other’s fingertips barely touching the planes of our skin. Eventually, the touches grew
bolder. My fingers gripped tighter onto his hips. His hands cupped my breasts. It was impossible to ignore his physical reaction to my near nakedness.
Just as I thought the sexual tension between us was becoming unbearable, Owen tossed me into the creek.
“You said you wanted to go for a swim,” he said as I reemerged with a yelp of surprise, sputtering and coughing up water as I did.
I glared at him. “A warning would have been appreciated.”
“Ah, but I think we needed to cool down.” He jumped in, rolling onto his back to stare up at the night sky as he floated. “Man, why don’t I do this more often?”
I moved toward him. “What? Throw women into creeks?”
He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye as I joined him in watching the stars, treading water by his side because my toes barely reached the pebbled riverbed.
“You know what I mean.”
“Yep, I do.”
There was silence again, this time calm and reflective rather than sexually charged. It was nice and oddly reassuring.
We stayed like that for so long that it surprised me when Owen spoke again.
“You don’t get a sky like this anywhere else.”
“That’s because the constellations change according to latitude and longitude.”
“Smartass. You know what I mean.”
“You say that a lot.”
Owen chuckled as he stood up in the water, shaking droplets from his head as he did. “I guess I do.”
“I figured you would have a way with words,” I replied as I reached for the bottom of the creek and slipped under, only to push off and come up for air.
“Why is that?” he asked.
“Because you’re so charming.”
Owen’s laugh rung out across the creek and echoed back at me. “And you’re so honest.”
“A boon and a bane, admittedly.”
Owen splashed water at my head. I returned the favor as he waded over and picked me up.
“What are you doing?”
“You can barely stand over here.” He lifted me higher out of the water. “I’m giving your legs a break.”
“Is that so?”
“Absolutely,” he replied. “One must be sure not to tire when in a precarious situation.” His arms tightened around me.
“I’m pretty sure I could out-swim you on a bad day.”
His brows reached for his hairline. “Is that a challenge?”
“Damn straight.” I pointed to the copse of trees at the bend. “First one from here to the trees upstream wins?”
“Done,” Owen exclaimed, immediately dropping me to get a head start.
“That’s cheating,” I called out before righting myself and working furiously to catch up. It didn’t take long because I was an excellent swimmer. By the time we reached the trees, I was in the lead by several feet.
He stared at me incredulously as he caught up. “Holy shit, you’re fast.”
“I know.”
“You hustled me good, Stevenson.”
“Hey, I told you I could out-swim you, Cooper. If you chose not to believe me, that’s on you.”
“What’s my consolation prize?”
“Why should you get rewarded for coming in last when I don’t get anything for winning?”
He sidled up to me in the water, gently pressing me against the bank. The barest suggestion of a current sent tiny pebbles ricocheting off my feet, the beat of them accurately reflecting the way my heart thumped inside my chest.
“I can think of something that might act as a prize for both of us,” he said suggestively, tracing the edge of my jaw with a finger, tipping it to line up my lips with his.
“How presumptuous of you,” I replied quietly, but I closed the gap between our lips immediately. He tasted of creek water and whiskey. Until now, I’d never have considered that an attractive combination.
As Owen leaned in and deepened the kiss, running his fingers through my hair and pressing his body against mine, I found I couldn’t get enough of it. Enough of him.
I threw my arms around his neck, desperate to get closer.
He wouldn’t be a client for much longer. In a few months, I’d be gone, and unlikely to see him again. It was now or never. I voted for now.
With every ounce of my self-control, I pulled away from Owen’s lips. His breathing was ragged. Mine wasn’t much smoother.
Our eyes locked on each other. The moonlight reflected off his blue irises as if they contained the entire night sky within them.
God, my drunk ass was waxing poetic when all I wanted to do was climb his body and have my way with him. Did he have this effect on every woman who looked into those eyes?
“Can we go back to your place?” I murmured. “I live with my brother, and I don’t much like the idea of being caught out here, not swimming.”
He leaned in and kissed me. “I thought you’d never ask.”
My business might have been sinking beyond the point of rescuing, but for one night—just one night—I mustered the strength to keep myself afloat. I wanted a single night of beautiful indulgence, and then I’d face my ugly reality.
Owen and I swam back to retrieve our clothes, giddy and flushed with excitement and desire. We walked along the bank without bothering to get dressed, comfortable in our near nakedness.
“I live five minutes from here.” He pointed toward a winding lane that led into the other side of the forest, opposite the part my brother and I owned.
“You live in the forest? I never knew.”
“If I never set eyes on you, then it follows you would have never spotted me,” Owen reasoned. “Which means you wouldn’t know where I lived.”
“Touché.”
When we reached the first line of trees, Owen pressed me against the trunk of one and kissed me, hard and fast.
“What was that for?” I asked when he pulled away, his breath rough and uneven.
“Checking to make sure you’re real. I keep thinking you’ll disappear. That you’ll turn back into the Carl Stevenson I never knew. The Carl Stevenson, who was a guy.”
I laughed as we walked among the trees toward his house. “Now, wouldn’t that be a bizarre thing to see?”
“Too scary to consider.” He turned to me. “You’ll stay the night, right?”
I looked at him, smiling gently. “I’m not going anywhere.”
My final night in fantasyland needed to be long and satisfying.
Chapter Nine
Owen
I couldn’t believe I was actually this excited about taking a woman back to my house, especially after doing my damnedest to ensure that Ruthie didn’t come here on Friday. But Carla was different. Carla was … a complete and utter firecracker. She was a buzz of excitement I hadn’t realized I wanted or needed.
Loving my quiet, easy way of living here in Frazier Falls didn’t mean I was immune to a good old adrenaline rush. My entire evening with Carla had been one. There was a scarcely contained, primal urge inside me, begging to pin her to the forest floor. It was a wonder we made it to my place with only one kiss against a tree.
As soon as I unlocked the door and closed it behind us, I had every intention of giving in to that desire, but Carla held a hand out against my chest to stop me in my tracks. She looked at my house like a kid in a candy store.
“Owen, your house is amazing,” she let out, her voice and wide eyes full of wonder.
I almost shrugged in response, but I didn’t. I was too proud of this home that I’d imagined and created from nothing.
“I designed and built it myself.”
“Wow.” Her eyes grew impossibly wider.
“Would you like the tour?”
She nodded enthusiastically, curiosity overtaking lust for the moment. To my disappointment, she pulled her dress over her head, covering her body.
I became acutely aware of the fact I’d never shown a woman around my place before. I’d always led them straight to bed.
&nbs
p; Following her lead, I quickly tugged on my clothes over my damp boxers. A tour would be great. An almost naked tour would be distracting.
My house was a sprawling bungalow. In reality, it was the prototype build for my Green House Project, so it was the surest confirmation that my vision was possible. It hadn’t been expensive to build, and it put energy into the grid rather than taking it out. The house left no power-sucking footprint.
It was a three-bedroom, two-bathroom home with an open floor plan and a large sliding door that led onto a wooden deck. The calm and peaceful spot looked straight into the forest. I often enjoyed my time there, whether with my brothers or on my own. Each morning, I caught a glimpse of the wildlife that depended on the forest to live.
One thing I always appreciated about the Stevensons was their respect for the land. They never milled more than they needed. They replaced as fast as they took.
This house was a reflection of that commitment. The ceiling was stripped back to the natural wooden rafters while the walls were painted an off white.
The sofas in the living room were made of reclaimed leather, and all the furniture had been built using lumber from the forest the house was built in.
“Did you build all this from—”
“Wood from your mill? Yes. It’s completely self-sufficient, too. I think I wanted to prove to myself I could do it.”
That’s an understatement.
“This place is … beautiful. It feels like it blends right into the trees,” Carla said, breathless. She moved over to the sliding glass door, opening it to let the fresh night air in. She peered outside. “Is all this space yours? I never realized there was a clearing here.”
I moved over beside her, leaning against the doorframe. “I have some plans for the land here, truth be told. Not a discussion for right now, though.”
Carla laughed softly. “You’re probably right. Where’s the bathroom?”
“There’s one to your left.” I pointed toward it. “Or there’s the en suite attached to the main bedroom. Take your pick.”
Rescue Me: A Frazier Falls Novel Page 5