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“You don’t have to do that.”
“It’s no trouble. I need to keep moving until the place warms up.”And I cool down.
He leaned back on his arms, head tilted back, the pose emphasising the muscles of his chest and shoulders. His eyes were closed as he immersed himself in the heat of the fire, leaving her free to study him. He only had a slight fuzz of hair on his chest between smallish brown nipples. There was more hair below his navel, a thin pale line she knew led to light brown curls, but she could only see the beginning of the trail above the buckle of his jeans today. It could have thickened over the past four years. He’d had trouble growing a fashionable stubble in his early twenties. His fair hair grew in uneven patches, so he’d shaved every day. A small vanity that fed into the clean-cut image.
“You should strip off, Bonnie.”
His words startled her out of her absorption. Fortunately, his eyes were still closed so he wouldn’t have seen her staring at his body. “I’m okay. Your coat saved most of me.”
His eyes opened a fraction. “Your jeans will take ages to dry if they’re as wet as mine. Hang them near the fire and find a blanket in the cupboard near the bunks. There should be spares according to Briar.”
He was right. There were half a dozen khaki blankets that looked like they’d come from an army disposal store and a stack of matching towels. She grabbed a couple of each and tossed a set to Xander. The towel landed on his stomach and he sat up with a whoosh of sound.
“Violent little beastie.” He used the towel, drying his hair with vigour. The light from the fire picked up droplets on his chest, diamonds sparkling gold and silver. His narrowed gaze caught her looking and he raised a brow. “Are you getting out of those jeans?”
She hurried to comply, turning away to drape the blanket over her shoulders and wiggle out of her jeans. The jeans disposed of, she wrapped the blanket around her, sarong style. There wasn’t much she could do about her hair except pat it dry, pressing the towel hard against the twisted braids. If she undid it, the curls would go wild and she had no brush or comb to try and tame it. Sometimes she thought about cutting it short but something always stopped her. Her mother’s hair was the same in all the photos, so maybe it was a connection. The knowledge that Xander had always said he loved her long hair definitely had nothing to do with her decision.
The kettle whispered its first notes before settling into a determined whistle. Having lunch would distract her from the intimacy of their situation. She sighed as she pulled some mugs out of a cupboard and searched around for tea and coffee. There was a large jar of a mid-range brand of instant, so she set about making them a cup. A hot drink would be extra warmth. At least they wouldn’t have to apply survival skills 101 to use body warmth to keep each other from freezing to death. She eyed off the bunks. It could have been fun. Like one of Flo’s romance novels where they get trapped in a snowbound cottage. An interesting fantasy to be having in Australia. And an unlikely one. Regretfully she poured the drinks and took Xander’s across to him.
*
Bonnie looked cuteshuffling around with the blanket wrapped around her, hanging right down to her ankles, her black socks with blue soles the only thing visible. Xander took the coffee and watched her curl up on the leather armchair. His jeans were uncomfortably wet and he debated pulling them off and utilising the blanket the same way. The fire was warming up the space, the heat almost too much this close. Still not enough to dry the jeans clinging to his body.
Setting down the coffee on the hearth, he stood up and unbuckled the belt.
“What are you doing?” There was a note of panic in her voice he didn’t recognise.
“My jeans aren’t drying fast enough. I’m taking them off.”
He pulled them down, keeping his back to the occupied armchair, kicking off the elastic-sided boots in the process. The boots he put on the hearth beside the stove and the jeans on the last of the kitchen chairs. The rest were doing their duty as clothes racks. After a moment, he pulled off the clammy socks and draped them on the chair with his jeans. His under shorts were slightly damp around the legs where water had seeped through the clinging denim. They’d dry soon enough between the fire and his own body heat now he wasn’t wearing wet clothes over them.
He returned to the fire, grateful for the heat on his bare limbs. A sharp intake of breath from Bonnie spun him round. Her eyes were fixed on the scar. He’d forgotten about it, although she’d seen it before.
“You never did tell me how it happened. It looks like it must have been painful.”
“I was a kid. Things happen.” His usual answer, but Bonnie didn’t seem in the mood to let it go.
She reached forward to trace her fingers over the ragged scar above his right hip. It felt odd, especially when she smoothed her fingertips over the shiny patch that extended further around his back.
“I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“I fell into a fire and cut myself on a rock all at the same time. Kid stuff, as I said.”
Her eyes shifted up to meet his gaze. “At the clearing? Near the caravans?”
He pulled away from her touch with a jerky nod. He hated thinking about it. About what happened that night.
“Did you go into hospital?”
“Honey stitched it and used some of her herbal remedies. We were pretty self-sufficient.”
“It must have been painful.”
“She gave me something for it.” Marijuana was pretty good for pain, though he’d never used it again. Never needed it badly enough and didn’t choose to take the risk. He picked up the spare blanket and draped it over his shoulders. It left his legs bare but they were warming up, now the damp jeans were gone.
“Why won’t you tell me the truth, Xander?” Bonnie had a look on her face like a determined terrier. She wasn’t going to let it go.
“It’s nothing. There was a bit of a scuffle and I got pushed over.” Sid in one of his rages didn’t care who he hurt and Xander was in the way. The burn had been excruciating. He remembered screaming and Sunny rolling him in the dirt to put out the flames. He’d existed in a drug-induced haze for days, hardly aware of what was happening until he arrived at Byron with Sid and some of the other women and children, with his mother and Sunny gone forever. It had been ages before he’d learned more of what happened from the others.
