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I groan to myself and slurp my beer, uncomfortable with my train of thought. I’ve never met a woman so fascinating. She’s determined, but that resolve is edged with a vulnerability that makes her even more attractive. She’s kind. Sweet. Funny in her own witty little way. ‘Jesus.’ I rub at my forehead with the tips of my fingers and rest my head back. I’m fucking exhausted.
My eyes become heavy.
The flames of the fire start to blur and blend together.
My tired brain begins to shut down.
I doze off with visions of Hannah Bright filling my mind. She’s dancing close to the fire. She’s dancing with danger.
I’m jerked from sleep by a cold, wet sensation on my chest and the smell of beer. Shit. I jump up from the chair, sending the now-empty bottle crashing to the wooden floor, and pull my soaked T-shirt away from my chest. The sound of rain pelting the windows soon registers in my drowsiness.
Yawning, I scoop up the bottle and set it on the hearth, then pull off my wet T-shirt and toss it in the wash basket as I head to my bedroom. But I don’t make it to my glorious bed. A noise outside stops me on the threshold, and I look toward the front door as I take a few backward steps, my movements cautious, my muscles now very awake and very tense.
My focus is trained on the front door as I walk on light feet down the corridor back into the open space of my cabin. It’s way too late for visitors, not that I get many.
I blindly feel for the axe tucked by the side of the freezer and take a firm grasp of the handle. My pace falters when I hear something again. Something loud enough to be heard over the storm. What the fuck is that?
Edging toward the window, I pull back the curtain a fraction and scan outside. Sheets of rain hamper my ability to see past the veranda, the trees swaying violently under the force of the howling wind whipping through the branches. Lightning zigzags through the sky, making the edges of the black clouds glow. ‘God damn you, Mother Nature,’ I say quietly as a wicked crack of thunder pierces the air. Someone could have turned on a megawatt lightbulb, as everything outside is suddenly basked in a blinding light.
It’s then I see her, surrounded by empty gas canisters that she’s knocked over near the barbecue. ‘Hannah?’ I drop the axe and rush to the front door, yanking it open and running out onto the veranda. Wearing only what she had on at the pub – a flimsy little red dress – she jogs across the lawn toward me, drenched through, her hair heavy and stuck to her face, the fabric of her dress sticking to her body.
When she reaches the foot of the steps to the veranda, she looks up and sees me and comes to an abrupt halt, still exposed to the elements. The rain continues to attack her, not that she looks aware of it. Her unbelievably big blue eyes widen, as if she’s surprised to see me. Something tells me to keep back, so I hover at the top of the steps looking at her being beaten by the downpour.
She eventually drags the back of her hand across her face, roughly wiping away the wet, for what it’s worth. ‘Why did you kiss me?’ she calls over the deafening storm.
Her question has me automatically taking the first step down to her, though her hand quickly shooting up warns me to stop. So I do, because it feels only natural to obey. I see her swallow when she registers I’m listening to her, and she follows that up with a small nod to herself. ‘Come inside, Hannah,’ I plead. ‘You’re soaked.’
‘Tell me why, Ryan,’ she calls, ignoring me. She’s going to catch a death, for God’s sake. Not to mention myself. I’m standing here in my jeans, nothing on my chest, my feet bare.
‘I . . .’ I fade off when something comes to me. ‘Wait, how did you get here?’
‘I walked. Now tell me.’
She walked? In the dark and rain? The knowledge irks me no end, my urge to scold her overwhelming. Too overwhelming to hold back. ‘That pisses me off, Hannah.’
She smiles. She fucking smiles. It’s beyond me why, and I find myself laughing in disbelief. ‘Tell me why you kissed me,’ she shouts.
I stare at her, my smile unsure. Where’s she going with this? And actually, why did I kiss her? It’s a silly question with a simple answer. Because I couldn’t stop myself. Because I want her.
‘The constant near misses were getting ridiculous,’ I call back. ‘The interruptions for one reason or another.’ I pause for a beat, studying her gorgeously bedraggled form. ‘And,’ I go on, this time not as loud, ‘more important,’ I take one more step down toward her, knowing she won’t stop me this time. ‘I wanted you to see how good it felt.’
