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“Going to my truck.” This time I cross to her and slide my hands along her arms. “Sidney, I can see you don’t like storms and they can seem worse out here in nature, especially after the day you’ve had, but you’re safe.”
She looks up at me, and her eyes are a soft hazel, that summery mix of light straw browns and gentle greens. They’re pretty and feminine, and I clearly need a woman to bang if I’m standing here, waxing lyrical in my fucking head about her damn eyes.
“You haven’t killed me yet, so I’m probably safe. Unless you’re the midnight murdering type.”
I laugh and grin, letting her go and stepping back. Trying to find a small space to catch my breath because she’s got an unexpected way of stealing oxygen, like a flame. “Need my beauty sleep.”
“No, you don’t.”
She smacks a hand over her mouth as those pretty eyes behind her glasses go wide.
“Good to know.” I turn and stride out the door, so she doesn’t see what I’m sure is a shit-eating grin.
She thinks I’m attractive. Not that that’s a stretch. I haven’t managed to scare small children or send women screaming for the hills, and I scrub up fairly well. But the princess likes a bit of rough.
Fuck. I drag my thoughts back somewhere to the G-rating area, maybe around the PG, or whatever the rating system is. I stopped looking at that shit when I could go see movies on my own. Our parents used to make us watch all sorts of old stuff that sometimes went up to M.
The air’s heavy and night’s starting to settle in. In the near distance are splotches of red and yellow, the thick smoke hanging low. But they’ve got things under control and the rain’s really about to come in.
Colors pop with otherworldly brightness as I pull open the door to my truck to grab my bag. I want to fix the cabin’s radio in case I need contact with the world. I know it’s out, probably just some poking about will do it. Coming out here during the night in the rain isn’t my idea of fun. Or a shower.
Which is coming, deluge-style.
The air has that peaty, dank, earthy scent I love that comes before the rain.
Swinging the bag up over my shoulder, I head in just as the rain starts to come down, this time in steady beats.
* * *
Sidney stands near the open door. There’s a tiny porch that does little but provide some cover for equipment, but it’s not the rocking chair variety, and she’s showing no signs of wanting to step out intoArmageddon: Waterworld.
There’s a slight breeze that holds smoke and a touch of cool, so she braves the storm as I sit at the kitchen table on the sturdy chair, the parts of the radio spread all around me.
“How are you and your nemesis getting on?” I ask as I start to screw back in a newly cleaned piece of the radio.
“I don’t—” She stops.
I look up and she half meets my eyes as heat colors her cheeks. Whatever she was going to say isn’t said. “Fine, like I said, storms scare me. Always have. Happy?”
I shrug. “Depends on who you thought I meant by nemesis.”
She flounces over and sits, the chair scraping on the wooden floor, and I really wish I had coffee, or more of the booze. But a few sips were enough to take the edge off everything, and enough to stay sharp. Still . . .
“Are you always so bossy and nosy or is it just me?”
I think about it and shrug. “You’re kind of fun to rile, won’t lie there. And yeah, I meant the storm.”
“Oh.”
“Oh,” I say and screw back in another part.
She looks at the dismantled radio. “What if we need it?”
“I’ll brave the elements and use the one in my truck. Just wanted to get this up and running.”
The radio worked about ten minutes ago before I decided to pull it apart again and clean it. Keeps my hands busy and off a soft, warm woman who just might think she’s better than me.
Because I can’t really tell if she’s really hiding something big or if she just thinks it’s beneath her to spend time here, with a man like me. You know, below her exalted station.
