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Remy was off his stool and running toward the sound, and I hurried behind him, my jaw coming unhinged at the sight of the roof over my bed. Or, moreso, the lack of roof over my bed.
It looked as if a cannonball had been shot through the roof, the wood splintered, shingles hanging into the room. Rain fell hard, loud, and directly onto my bed.
I stood there staring at it as Remy swore and headed for the door, stuffing his feet in his worst pair of boots and throwing on a Carhartt jacket. And out he went into the torrent.
“Shit.”
I tore into my room, rushing to put on a pair of shorts and tossing my cardigan. Once at the front door, I pulled on my muddy shoes and grabbed one of Remy’s heartier jackets, overwhelmed by the garment and the smell of him as it curled around me. And then I was out the door to do what I could to help.
I didn’t see him out front or by the shed, so I hurried around the wraparound porch, finding him climbing a ladder to the roof, tarp folded up under his arms.
A crack of thunder and flash of lightning shook the house. My heart stopped at the thought of him on a metal ladder in a thunderstorm, but he remained unfazed, disappearing onto the roof.
With a quick prayer, I followed. Rain spilled in buckets, fat heavy droplets splatting on every surface, including me. When I could see over the roof, he paused, his face dark with rage.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he yelled through the wild rain. “Get inside.”
But I climbed up. “No!” I took one corner of the tarp and moved to circle the hole. “Two of us means you’re off the roof faster!”
The noise he made sounded a lot like a roar, but he sprang back into action, spreading out the tarp. A handful of errant bricks laid next to the chimney, and he picked them up, handing me two to pin the corners with. When the job was done, he stared at it, running his hand through his sopping hair before shaking his head and scanning our surroundings. A good-sized branch of the magnolia tree had split, hanging within reach, complete with offshoot branches and wide leaves. He grabbed it with both hands and snapped it off, carrying it to the hole, laying it on top to help divert the rain. And then he turned to me, shouting, “Go!”
We made for the ladder, and I hurried down with my knees knocking. As soon as I was clear, he all but pushed me under the porch overhang and picked up the ladder, carrying it onto the porch with him and tossing it next to the rail. Then he grabbed my arm and dragged me to the back door, shoving me inside.
“Jesus Christ, Jessa. You could have gotten hurt.” The door slammed with another crack of thunder.
“So could you,” I shot back.
“Next time I tell you to get inside, do it.”
“Don’t tell me what to do, Remy.”
“Then stop being careless, Duchess. If you get hurt on my watch, I’ll never fucking forgive myself. So if you won’t do it for yourself, do it for me.” He snatched a big bucket by the door, brushing past me as he stripped off his coat and kicked off his boots, leaving me dripping in the kitchen, staring after him.
When he moved for my room, I collected myself and discarded my coat and shoes too, hurrying behind him to assess the damage.
He was already pushing the ruined bed against the wall, knocking Bocephus askew. When it was out of the way, he set the bucket under the hole and took a moment to look up at it, finally letting go of a sigh that drained a little tension from his shoulders. And then he walked out, largely ignoring me as he stomped to his room.
When I found him, he was busy pulling a pillow off his bed and an extra blanket from the foot.
“I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“That sofa isn’t fit for Beau to sleep on.”
“I’ve had worse.”
“There’s a perfectly good bed right here. I won’t let you sleep on that derelict sofa.”
He stopped close enough that I could feel the heat wafting off his wet clothes. “How are you gonna stop me?”
I saw the fear behind his eyes and realized just how badly I’d scared him. I softened, shaking my head. “I’m sorry, Remy. I shouldn’t have followed you, but I was worried about you, and wanted to be useful. That’s all.”
I wasn’t only talking about the ladder and tarp regarding my usefulness, and he understood. Another sigh uncoiled him just a bit more. “Next time, the place you’re most useful is safe. Okay?”
“Okay.”
We stared at his queen-sized bed. As I considered how I hated the thought of him sleeping on the sofa, I realized that I knew a way to get him into bed with me where he wouldn’t throw his back out.
A terrible little smile brushed my lips. “I understand. You’re worried you’ll be tempted, sleeping in bed with me.”
