Charlotte looked from Grams to Tom and back again. “What’s the romantic part?”
“I don’t know that there is one,” Tom said, looking to Grams with a wink that felt to Charlotte like it was a week late and a dollar short of endearing. “Although women are known to see romance in these things, that a more rational mind might consider commonplace.”
A more rational mind? So not only did it take him a half an hour to remember how he reunited with Grams, he saw nothing romantic about it and oh—by the way—women are irrational beings. And don’t let the door hit you in the ass on your way out,Tom.
She opened her mouth to tell him exactly what she thought of him, when a series of tremendous crashes echoed through the room, each reverberating through the space like the sequential bursts of a fireworks finale or the percussive breaking of plate-glass windows.
7
Charlotte held a candle as she climbed the steps, shielding the flame with a cupped hand. Wind-chimes could be heard in this part of the house, continuing their cacophony as the storm raged around them, and the distinct smell of pickles permeated the air.
The arctic weather and lack of heat in the house had caused a pipe in the basement to burst, the force of which had toppled a shelf full of canned goods directly beneath the dining room. What had sounded like the beginning of the end of times was, in fact, little more than a homeowner’s insurance claim.
Tom had taken care of it, and it had brought a welcome if ungraceful end to the awkward family dinner and her interrogation of the man. It had also set Charlotte firmly on a collision course with bedtime, and the room she was going to have to share with Cowboy.
Grams had disappeared shortly after the exploding pickle incident, claiming she was tired and needed to rest. She’d looked drawn and suddenly old, giving yet another reason for Charlotte to fear for her grandmother’s health.Cowboy had retired shortly thereafter, and Charlotte wasn’t sure if he was trying to give her space or trying to prevent her from going to bed alone as she wished.
Tom had insisted on cleaning up the entire canning shelf mess alone. This earned him his first gold star of the evening in Charlotte’s book, reflecting a fine level of character he had yet to display. She did feel bad for him at one point and try to lend a hand, only to be secretly relieved when she found the basement door locked. The lack of access to the pickle disaster meant she was absolved of all guilt in the matter.
She then wandered around the old house for nearly an hour, fatigue clawing at her until there was nothing left for her to do but to go to bed and face her fear of sharing a bed with Cowboy.
She climbed the stairs warily, a layer of cold air drifting down the stairs as if a window were open on the second floor, though she was sure it must be the drafty old house being stretched at the seams by the storm. The treads creaked beneath her weight.
As a child, this house had frightened her with its tall ceilings and dark woodwork that stood out in sharp relief like hulking shadows in the dimmest of light. Once she’d sleepwalked down these very stairs in the middle of the night, only to sit in the dark of the formal living room, fully awake for hours, thinking of the ghost in the lighthouse and terrified to make the trek back to her bed, alone.
Now she was making that same trip and just as unnerved, but for a very different reason. Cowboy awaited her upstairs—waited to share her bed.
They’d slept beneath the same covers for more than a year, but today, she might have been a virginal bride afraid of her husband’s expectations. She cursed the thought. Why dideverything need to be about marriage? Every thought, every motivation, every fear?
But she knew this room and knew it well. There was no sofa for Leo to sleep on, only a tall queen bed for them to share in the light of a roaring fire, and the very idea of it had her knees trembling.
She couldn’t sleep with him. She wanted to break up with him, for goodness’ sake. It wasn’t fair to expect this of her, but then this entire trip wasn’t fair, the timing of it destined to stretch out their breakup into a long set of terrible moments rather than a swift, clean fracture.
He isn’t going to force you to have sex with him.
You’re worried because you want it.
The realization was sobering. She did want him. She wanted him, just as she had for more years than they’d been together. Breaking up with him had been the hardest thing she’d ever done, yet he was waiting for her in a warm bed, his familiar scent would envelop her in safety and make her yearn to be close to him with a need that could never be satisfied.
She reached the top step and bit her lip, hesitating. The door stood ajar at the end of the hall, golden firelight spilling out onto the hardwood floor. What was she thinking, agreeing to this plan? She needed a way out of her predicament.
She eyed the next door down, knowing the room beyond it would be dark and cold. There was no fireplace in that one, but there was a bed she could have all to herself. It was certainly the safer option.
She reached the doorway and tried the handle, finding it locked. There was a key, of course, but the cold room wasn’t motivation enough to go get it. She thought of the couch downstairs, the same one she’d oncesat on through the night, terrified. Sleeping there wouldn’t be so different from that, except it would be freezing cold without the fire to warm her.
Turning around, she found Cowboy right behind her and nearly jumped out of her skin with a desperate gasp.
“Sorry,” he said quietly, his voice gravelly. He was shirtless, the light from her candle coloring his skin with a golden hue. “I didn’t mean to scare you. What are you doing?”
“Looking for someplace to sleep.”
His mouth hardened into a straight line. “I thought you were staying with me. We’ve shared a room for a long time. Nothing has to happen if you don’t want it to.”
She stood there, torn between the cold couch downstairs and the alluring heat of this golden man who was far too dangerous indeed. “Fine.”
He led the way to the bedroom, pushing open the door to a glorious warmth. The bed was turned down, the plush pillows and thick comforter calling to her achingly tired body.
Cowboy crossed to the opposite side of the bed and climbed beneath the covers. “What were you doing downstairs? I thought you’d be right behind me.”
