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“It’s July in Maine. Naturally, we were due for a random, biblical-level thunderstorm. We can wait it out.” With one arm, he snagged my belt loop and pulled me closer, trailing the fingers of his other hand across my collarbone. “I can certainly think of a few ways to pass the time.”
He looked all scruffy and delicious. There was no way I was keeping my panties on if we were going to be stuck here for hours. But there was an uncomfortable nagging in the back of my brain.
“Don’t you think it would be dirtier?” I asked. I ran a finger over one of the shelves that held plates and mugs. “It’s not that dusty. And the door opened after a bit of a push. If this really hasn’t been used in decades, wouldn’t it be in worse shape?”
Remy shrugged. “No one comes out here anymore. The trail we took isn’t even on our maps.”
I picked up a ceramic mug. It was white with small blue flowers. “These mugs don’t look all that old.” I turned it upside down, noting the brand name written in flowing script on the bottom. “I wonder what Zellers is.”
Remy stepped up beside me for a closer look. “I’ve been to Zellers before. It’s kind of like Target or Walmart in Canada. They sell everything. Tires, baby gear, clothing, and some groceries…”
“And mugs?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you think Zellers was manufacturing mugs back in ’57 when Louis came here?”
“I don’t know. Possibly.”
“And what about those keys?” I pointed to a keyring hanging from a rusty nail next to the door frame. “There isn’t a lock on the door here, so what are those for?”
He shrugged again, still unperturbed. “I’ve spent a lot of time out in the woods. You find the weirdest things. One time, we found a VW Beetle with a tree growing out of the hood. It was miles from the nearest road. It’s part of what makes the wilderness so fun. There’s so much to discover. Don’t overthink it.”
I put the mug back and continued my inspection. The space was tiny, and it was humid, given all the rain. It beat down on the roof, a loud pitter-patter that kept pulling me from my thoughts.
He wrapped his arms around me from behind and nuzzled into my hair. “You gotta admit, it’s kind of romantic.”
It was a tiny outpost in the middle of the wilderness. Generations of names carved into a rough slab of wood, chipped coffee mugs and a tiny cot. It was cozy and desolate, and the rain only added to the ambiance.
And then I did something truly stupid.
“It’s a good thing we found it. It’s a good place to impress your next wife.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them. It was the sort of offhanded, boneheaded thing I said occasionally. Usually, I was quiet and controlled and strategic, but with Remy, I could let my guard down. Unfortunately, in doing so, it allowed my crazy insecurities to slip through and bubble to the surface.
He froze, his body rigid behind mine and his chin resting on top of my head, but he didn’t speak.
I needed to say something. To take it back. Things had been so incredible, and we were enjoying our time together, as fleeting as it was. From the beginning, we had agreed not to talk about the future. And then I had to go and shove my size-seven foot right into my mouth.
“Don’t talk about my next wife,” he growled, his voice strained.
I pulled away and turned to face him. Shit. He was angry. I expected awkwardness, not anger.
“Remy,” I said, sliding a hand up his chest.
“Do not speak.” He stepped out of my hold and ran a hand through his hair, his brow furrowed. Remy rarely got mad, and never at me.
I’d messed up big time. “It was a stupid comment,” I insisted, trying to rescue the situation. “Sometimes my mouth gets ahead of my brain. I know we agreed not to talk about the future, but, honestly, it’s hard to keep myself from fast-forwarding in time and imagining you happily married to someone else.”
His eye twitched, and he balled his hands into fists. “Stop it, Hazel.”
Finally, he took a step toward me. All I could do was watch him. I swallowed thickly as he loomed over me, feeling intrigued, uncertain, and a little turned on by his anger.
“You are my wife,” he said slowly, his jaw still tight and his dark eyes an inferno. “There is no one else. And every single day I wake up next to you, I’m more convinced there will never be anyone else,” he confessed, searching my face.
I froze, my mouth agape. “Remy.”
He crowded my space, pushing me against the wall, his hungry eyes devouring me. “You’re it for me, Hazel. My desire for you grows every day. The urge to talk to you, to touch you, and to be with you? It consumes me.”
“Stop,” I said, panic rising in my chest. We had an agreement. This wasn’t part of the plan. “I can’t hear this right now.”
