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Slowly, reason and logic are starting to creep back in. I can see Davis pulling away. We maybe standing mere inches apart but a thousand miles barge in between us.
I manage to pull my clothes on and he gets dressed, too. Ducking through the brush and slipping on the wet earth, we walk back to the little cabin in the woods, eachcovered in a thick layer of mud and well, cum.
I’m rattled. To my bones. And it’s not just the orgasm. My brain is having a hard time processing what happened between us here in the woods. We don’t talk much, save for Davis repeatedly making sure I’m okay.
When we’re standing at the bottom of the cabin’s rickety stairs, he tenderly tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “What the hell was that, Allie?” he questions, his voice grave, his forehead crinkled.
Slowly, I shake my head, my eyes unable to leave his. “I…I don’t know,” I confess, feeling helpless.
Davis looks away, digging his fingers through his hair. “We must still be loopy and delusional from being cooped up together these past two days.”
“Either that, or Ziggy’s aunt slipped us something extra in our coffee this morning,” I suggest with a laugh. He gives me a pained smile in response, and I feel myself grow rueful, too. “Maybe…maybe we don’t have to talk about it.”
A shuddering breath moves through Davis. His jaw clenches hard. “Yeah. Maybe.”
Once inside the cabin, we take turns, showering quickly and changing into clean clothes in the tiny, dusty bathroom.When he’s all cleaned up, I’m secretly dreading the idea that Davis actuallywillwant to talk about it. But he doesn’t. In fact, he looks restless.
He paces in front of the window for a minute before shoving his feet back into his boots.“I’m going to go see if Jimmy has an update on the road conditions.”
My brows dip. “Okay…”
It wasn’t as though I was expecting to cuddle or anything, but damn. It’s pretty clear that Davis doesn’t want to stay locked up in the cabin all day with his ex.
Maybe because he’s tempted to go for a repeat? Or maybe because he already regrets what we just did.
I can’t really be sure. Hell, I don’t even understand whatIfeel.
16
DAVIS
Iride into town with Jimmy, sitting shotgun in his beat-up pickup truck. When Alana and I got back to the cabin from the waterfall, it was just after lunchtime. I was too antsy to sit around for the rest of the day and not do anything productive.
Fortunately, Jimmy obliged my borderline obsessive need to head into town to see if there’s anything we could do to help with clearing the road.I mean, I’m not going to miss my brother’s wedding without exhausting every avenue first.
But I have to admit that half my reason for trudging up to Jimmy’s cabin was to get away from my tempting ex-wife. The low-grade weirdness that’s been simmering between us since I picked her up on the side of the road only intensified after I pinned her against a tree and fucked her like a deranged outlaw needing to get his rocks off.
What the hell is wrong with me? I promised myself I wouldn’t touch her. But it’s like when she’s near me, I can’t be reasonable. Each time she smiles at me, I can just forget about thinking straight.
I lost it back there in the woods. There was just her and thosefuck meeyes and all that goddamn mud. And now I’m beating myself up for what I did.
Her soft lips. Her lemon and lavender scent. Her hardened nipples in that wet tank top. The way she looks at me sometimes….
It’s all messing with my head. And dammit. Kissing her? Fucking her? It makes me feel things I shouldn’t still be feeling four long years after we broke up.
So just like everything tied to my divorce, I shove that into a mental box, not allowing myself to dwell.
We roll past a small farmer’s market and a row of local businesses before pulling into a parking spot outside the local sheriff’s department. I follow Jimmy inside.
Officers lounge casually around the police station, chatting and laughing, like they haven’t heard that their entire town is barricaded by flood waters and debris.
When the sheriff ushers us into his office, Jimmy and I take seats in stiff fabric-covered chairs opposite the police chief’s scuffed desk.
“I’m sorry to inform you that not much has changed in the past few hours.” He leans back in his roller chair and strokes his thick mustache, crinkle lines running across his forehead. The sheriff is visibly frustrated. “I’m just not getting the support I need from the mayor’s office. My hands are tied and I’m fed up with all the stonewalling.” That’s no lie. I can see it on his weathered, tired face. I can hear it in his voice.
“As chief deputy sheriff of Honey Hill, I can totally relate,” I interject. “Different town. Same old problems.” I feel for the sheriff and for the town of Starlight Falls. I do.
“I just wish there was something we could do to help you out with this mess,” Jimmy says on a huff.
