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CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
RAIN DRUMMED ON the tin, sounding like a herd of fleet-footed horses galloping across the staff quarters’ roof. Ominous, dark-gray clouds had rolled in yesterday afternoon—the day after the wedding—and most of the guests still lingering had fled in their four-wheel-drives, or Aaron had flown some out in the helicopter in the nick of time, the storm hot on their tail. The wet season had hit with a vengeance, but at least it’d held off long enough to make Dale and Daisy’s day perfect.
Bindi knocked on the door to Mack’s room and waited until she heard his deep voice tell her to come in. The curtains were drawn against the morning light and the room was dim, but not dark. He was propped up on his pillows, arms behind his head, blankets pulled up to his chin. Mack was still healing, and attending the wedding had knocked him for six, even though he refused to acknowledge it. Both Steve and Daniella had ordered him to take some bed rest for the next few days, especially now the rain was here, as it made it hard for him to get around on his crutch when the huge puddles of water turned the red dust to mud all around the lodge.
“Your breakfast, my master,” she said, placing the plate of food on his bedside table, feigning tugging at her forelock and bowing low. It was only just after eight in the morning, but Bindi had been up for hours, helping Skylar clear away the remnants of the wedding so that the workspace was finally resembling a modern, gourmet kitchen once more. It was going to take them the rest of the day yet to get it all cleaned and put away properly, but they’d made a huge dent in the work over yesterday and this morning. Just in time for Christmas, in two days’ time. It was going to be a wet celebration, but Skylar was well prepared, and had stocked up even before the wedding to make sure they could still celebrate in style.
Bindi shook her head, water droplets flying from her wet braid, scattering over the floor rug, some landing on the bed where Mack was just throwing back the blankets and emerging to put his feet on the floor.
“Hey,” he complained, ducking his head away from the water.
Bindi’s breath stalled in her throat. Mack was shirtless. Actually, he was only wearing black boxer briefs, and as he sat on the side of his bed, running his good hand through his sleep-mussed hair, she drank him in. Well-defined chest, with a sprinkling of curls leading her gaze down his flat stomach and impossible abs to narrow hips, where the waistband of his boxers revealed a dart of hair leading lower. Muscular thighs tapering down to strong calves, one of them encased in a cast that came halfway up to his knee, reminding her he was convalescing, and she shouldn’t be looking at him like he was some delicious dish she wanted to consume in a single gulp. Memories of their one time together swirled through her, eliciting a purely physical response, as her heart rate increased and butterflies tumbled in her stomach. Her hand flew to cover her pounding chest, and she held in a gasp of appreciation. He was one damn beautiful man.
“You weren’t kidding when you warned me about the rain,” Mack said lightly, then stopped as he looked up and saw her staring.
Tawny eyes darkening in an instant, Mack stood, balancing on his uninjured ankle, and stretched out his hands for her. She meant to take a step back, out of his reach, but impossibly, she found herself stepping into his arms instead. She’d left him alone for the past forty-eight hours, even though every molecule in her body was screaming that she needed to go and see him, touch him, be with him, find out what was going on in that complicated mind of his. Now, touching him gave her the sweet relief she’d been craving. As if by its own volition, her fingers traced over the curve of his shoulder, delighting in the heat of his skin, then trailed down his arm, pulling his hand farther around her waist, moving in to him so she was pressed hard up against his chest.
“I’ve wanted to do this ever since you landed back here for the wedding,” she muttered. Admittedly, they had kissed when Mack had first disembarked from the helicopter, a welcome-home, I’ve-missed-you-terribly kind of kiss. Then Mack had flirted shamelessly with her the whole way through the wedding, but by the time evening had rolled around, his face was pale and pinched, his smile had waned, and Bindi knew he needed rest, not the hot night of debauchery she’d been dreaming of. It’d all been highly unsatisfactory, but Bindi had kept busy and upbeat, telling herself they’d find time sooner or later.
It seemed it might finally be that time, and Bindi burned with longing. Her lips searched for his, locking onto his firm mouth as if she were drowning and he was her only air. He panted into her mouth, his tongue dancing with hers, devouring hers, demanding more, hands all over her body, running over her back, up her stomach, cupping her breasts through her shirt.
Hopping on one foot, he maneuvered them until they could sit on the edge of his bed together. Then he began popping the buttons on her shirt, one by one, never taking his mouth away from hers. Her shirt landed in a heap on the floor and for a second she groaned and leaned into his hot hands that were all over her body. Then the gauze on his bandaged hand brushed her skin, and common sense returned as she recoiled away.
“Wait.” Pushing on his chest, she turned her head, so she had room to breathe. “We can’t do this,” she protested. “You can’t do this,” she amended, making a point by lifting his hand at the wrist and pointing at his bandaged hand.
“That?” he scoffed. “Don’t you worry about me. I’m invincible.” Mack knelt up on the bed, and raised both his arms above his head and flexed his biceps like he was Thor, the God of Thunder, and Bindi couldn’t help but laugh.
But that wasn’t all. “What about your head? Have you had any more headaches?” she demanded.
“Nope,” he replied, raising a seductive eyebrow. “Not a single twinge.”
Bindi studied him. When Mack had been admitted to the hospital, Bindi had persuaded him to tell the doctor about his headaches. The doctor had run some tests, and they were both relieved to hear there was no permanent damage to Mack’s brain and that lingering headaches could indeed be an ongoing symptom of a heavy concussion. The doctor’s advice was that the dizzy spells and pains would fade over time, especially if Mack rested and didn’t overexert himself. Bindi had laughed outright at that, startling the doctor. But it’d put both their minds at ease to know the headaches would eventually get better. Even if it took the next year or two, Mack would be okay.
“Like I said, I’m invincible.” He gave her his best smile.
Right at that moment, Bindi almost believed he was.
The cocky smirk left his mouth as their gazes locked and the gold flecks danced in his eyes, which suddenly turned serious. With great deliberation, Mack got slowly off the bed, hobbled over to the door and flicked the lock.
“I’ve been wanting to do this for days. No, scratch that. Ever since that moment you got out of my swag at the rodeo, I’ve wanted you back in my bed. I’m not letting you get away from me now,” he growled, pulling her down onto the mattress with him.
“Really?” she squeaked. “But you said…we said…”
“I was an idiot. What I said and what I felt back then were two very different things,” he murmured against her mouth. “God, you taste so good. Like coffee and warm muffins, and… You. You taste like you.” They kissed again, lying sideways across the bed, Bindi enjoying the nearness of him, the heat of him, the strong male presence that was doing all sorts of things to her insides. His hand snaked around the back of her neck, releasing her braid and combing his fingers through her damp hair, so that it fell over the blankets in a sheath.
One of the best things about living at Stormcloud Station was Daniella and Steve hadn’t skimped when it came to building and outfitting the staff quarters. They were as luxurious as the main lodge, and every room had a queen-sized bed. Bindi welcomed that indulgence now; no more making love within the confines of a single swag under the stars, they had a whole bed to themselves. Luxury.
“Skylar is expecting me back.” She tried one more time to stop this before it went too far. “She might come looking for me.”
“You give Skylar too little credit,” he said. “She’ll guess exactly what we’re up to. And no, she won’t come knocking.”
“Oh, God,” Bindi groaned.
“What? Are you ashamed of being with me?” he asked, drawing back a little.
“No. No, not at all,” she exclaimed. Although part of her squirmed a little at the idea, everybody probably knew what they were up to. She didn’t like people knowing her private business. But then again, everyone had seen them at the wedding, and knew they were a couple; knew they’d been through a terrible ordeal together and had grown incredibly close because of it. Knew that she was madly in love with him.
Hold that thought.
