She doesn't seem to notice my tone. Her eyes are fixed squarely on my chest. And then lower, to where my towel is wrapped around my waist. “What are you doing here,naked and wet?”
I had forgotten what her voice sounds like, smoky and deep. It had been the thing to pull me in that night. That, and the way she seemed to calm the second we were alone in her room, when it got quiet. The same way I always do.
Her gaze flicks back up to the moka pot suspended above my head, and I drop my arm belatedly. “I’m not naked.” I’m not sure why I feel the need to clarify that particular point right now, but it’s an important distinction.
“You look pretty naked to me,” she says, pointedly staring at the towel barely covering me.
I use my free hand to cinch it tighter. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“You didn’t answer mine.” She is relentless. It’s making my brain fuzzy, and it takes me a minute to remember what she asked.
“I was showering.”
She blinks at me slowly. “I was assuming the cabin had been turned into a modeling set.” Her tone is dry as desert air. “Whyare you showering here, Jack?”
I’m temporarily transfixed by the way she says my name. I didn’t think she would remember it. Our interaction at thehospital wasn’t long, and I had only introduced myself the one time. Sure, I remembered her name, but that was my job.
“I live here,” I finally say when I realize the silence has stretched on too long.
“No, you don’t.”
I stare at her for a long moment. “I’m not sure how to respond to that.”
“This is my best friend’s cabin,” she responds. “Wren Blankenship.”
“I’m renting it from her. For ten weeks.” When my recruiter, Amy, emailed to say she had a contact available in a small mountain town in North Carolina for the fall, I was quick to jump on it. I was ready to move on from the heat and the crowds in Miami and go someplace slower. So far, Fontana Ridge has been exactly what I needed.
“You’rerenting it from her?” The way she emphasizes the word makes a pit form in my stomach. I have a feeling something is very, very wrong here.
I answer slowly. “Yes.” And then, “You still haven’t answered my question.”
And she still doesn’t. “I need to call Wren.” She spins around, heading back out onto the porch, the cool evening air whipping her hair off her slender neck.
I follow her out onto the porch, goosebumps pricking on my wet skin. “Why?”
Stevie looks at me over her shoulder, surprise coloring her features, like she hadn’t heard me come out behind her, and I instantly feel bad. I’m a naked man following her around.
I’mnotnaked. Damn it, she’s getting in my head.
She ignores me, clicking on Wren’s contact on her phone. I can hear it ringing, the sound filling the space between us. It goes on and on before switching to a chipper voicemail message. Steviesighs, hanging up and calling someone else named Holden. This call goes directly to voicemail.
“Shit,” she mutters under her breath. She grips the porch rail tightly before turning to face me.
Her brow is furrowed and there are dark circles beneath her eyes. A small scratch on her temple from the other night. It clicks into place, and I gentle my voice before asking, “Are you feeling confused?”
She blinks at me, expression clearing. “What?”
“Confusion can be a symptom of concussions.”
Her eyes fall shut, chest rising in a deep breath. “I’m not confused. Just screwed.” She meets my gaze again, resigned. “My Airstream isn’t livable right now, and Wren told me I could stay here.”
It takes a minute for the words to process. “Oh.”
She nods. “She said the renter canceled, so the cabin was available.”
I palm the back of my neck as the pieces slot into place in my mind. “Yeah, I found a place closer to the hospital and canceled this booking, but then that one fell through and I booked this place again.” Guilt settles in my stomach like lead when I see her expression fall. “Do you…” my voice trails off. “Do you have someplace else to stay?”
She meets my gaze again. There’s a smile on her face that looks forced. “I’ll figure it out.”
