FOUR
SKYE
When I exit the bathroom after the longest pee I’ve had to take thus far during my pregnancy, I find my mystery saviour standing in the kitchen rifling through the contents of the fridge.
Which isn’t much.
I press my lips together and come to a stop, gaze darting to the dark window above the sink, which reveals the heavy storm raging beyond.
“So,” I drawl, leaning against the doorway. “I never actually got your name. Well, Sophia probably told me, but I might have blocked it out.”
His deep brown eyes find mine, unimpressed if I have to guess. “Sawyer,” is all he says before going back to grabbing what looks like an opened tin of tuna.
“Okay,Sawyer,” I mutter, watching as he tosses the tin into a trashcan beneath the sink. “The last time we had a storm like this, I spent the entire thing at the hospital delivering babies. How long do you think it will last?”
The sullen grump doesn’t look at me as he opens an upper cabinet and pulls down a bag of red lentils and a can of beans. Good Lord, what is his plan?
“What are you doing?” The only thing I crave right now is pizza. With salty tomatoes sliced on top of it, doused in oil and ranch dressing. If this baby hasn’t put much weight on me, then the food she makes me crave certainly has. All I do other than work is eat. I think being on my feet for nearly twelve hours a day has kept me relatively okay. But now that I’m on maternity leave, I suddenly have a lot of time…and access to a pizza place that will make me the exact things I crave.
The tattooed giant doesn’t look back at me as he assemblessomethingon the counter. “Food.”
“You are a man of very few words,” I reply, entering the small kitchen. It’s u-shaped, with an old, off-white refrigerator, a sink across from it with the window overlooking the front of the cabin—and the storm—as well as a gas-top stove that looks barely functioning.
As I inch closer, I catch a whiff of his cologne. Several times now I’ve gagged from the perfume men wear. But as I breathe him in, I can’t help but want more. He smells like sin and temptation; whiskey and toffee, a hint of caramel and something a little spicy.
My mouth waters as I take another step towards him.
Myherogrunts as he catches me coming closer. “There something you need, Skye?”
Maybe some actual conversation, I think, shaking my head. He’d been chattier before sweet girl kicked her way into the conversation. Now, he’s a damn…
Grump.
A nice-smelling grump, though.
“Do you have any idea how long this thing will last?” I ask again, leaning against the counter and crossing my arms.
His dark eyes flicker over me, and he tenses when they land on my stomach. Yep, definitely baby-related tension. “No,” he says, looking back at his new assortment of food. Joining thelentils and beans are rice, more tinned tuna, and a packet of instant ramen.
Not even my weird cravings could have conjured this up.
“Great.” Looking through the window again, I can’t tell if it’s getting darker because the day is ending or because the storm is getting worse. You can’t even see the cabin across from us anymore. “Would you be able to handle it if I gave birth in your kitchen?” I ask honestly, gauging his reaction.
If there’s one thing I’ve had to get good at being a labour and delivery nurse, it’s assessing my patients—and the people they bring with them.
More than once, I’ve had to kick out a disturbed mother-in-law or a lazy, no-good father. I’ve wrestled men who clearly don’t have their wife’s best interests at heart, taken the phones of Instagram-crazy sisters who want to share literally everything to their followers, and booted unwanted visitors without remorse. Most of these things I’ve had to pre-emptively figure out before disaster struck.
And unfortunately, I need to know if this man has my back if the storm keeps us in its clutches for more than the night.
There’s something hard in his eyes as they find mine, and he straightens to his full six-foot-huge height. Tattoos crawl up his neck towards his strong jaw. They cover his hands, probably all of his body.
This man should scare me. Should make me think twice about trusting him with not just my life—but the life of my child. I know nothing about him except for the fact that he volunteers with Noah, Sophia’s new boyfriend.
“Yes,” he answers clearly—confidently. But that’s all he says. And maybe that’s all he needs to say, because that simple answer has me believing him.
All I manage is a simple nod before I push off the counter and leave him to whatever concoction he’s making in the kitchen.
“I will make you last,”I whisper to my measly pack of Twizzlers. One of the few treats I have for myself that I do not plan to share with the grumpy man cooking in the kitchen.
