“That’s not—” She snapped her mouth closed. If she tried to explain, she’d just get herself into more trouble. And fighting him to take the bed wasn’t likely to work. He’d probably pick her up and deliver her there himself. Which would lead to the temptation to see what it took for him to stay there. “Night.”
She fled before she lost control of her mouth yet again. The soft glow of the alarm clock read 1:13 a.m. She wasn’t sure when she’d headed to bed—early definitely, given her need to escape his presence—but she was more awake than she should be for the middle of the night.
And the itch she’d fought before? The one to draw? It was back and stronger than ever.
Sheneededto draw.
Not wanted to. Needed to, like she needed to breathe. Retrieving the sketchbook and pencil set she kept beside her bed, she took a deep breath and started to draw. The nightlight was dim, but she didn’t want to turn on anything brighter because she hoped the man who was disturbing her sleep would go back to sleep himself, so she could have some semblance of solitude to figure out exactly what she was feeling.
Drawing had always been her way of journaling. A pencil dancing across paper helped her express what she couldn’t find the words for. She let her hand move and got lost in the motion as the picture slowly grew in varying shades of black, gray, and white. The quiet sound of lead scratching against the parchment, the flowing movement of the pencil, and the touch of the paper under the side of her hand quieted her mind as she slipped deeper into the tranquility that came with letting herself go and drawing whatever she needed to. It was one of the many reasonsshe loved art. In moments like this, there was no right or wrong. There just was.
When she finally stopped and saw what she’d created, it took her breath away. There was no doubt she’d drawn Brennan. How had she captured him so well from only her memory? Clearly, her life drawing class was paying off.
But it wasn’t just Brennan on the page. She was there too. Standing wrapped in his arms, head against his shoulder, with her hand resting on his chest, right over his heart. A pose very familiar to her. She saw her father and mother frequently like this.
Evie snapped the book closed and tossed it on the floor, burying her head in the pillow and narrowly stifling the scream of frustration she wanted to let loose. He was infiltrating every part of her life. She couldn’t even get away from him in that peaceful space that was purely for her.
And the real kicker? There was a part of her that liked it. A very large part, in fact.
CHAPTER 7
It seemedas if Brennan had only just dropped back to sleep when a loud crack had him shooting upright and promptly tumbling onto the floor in another tangle of blankets. This time he managed not to swear. But when the light from the small table lamp flickered, then died, plunging the room into almost complete darkness, he was tempted. If a tree had taken down the power lines, it wouldn’t be an easy fix. And if the still strong howling wind was anything to go by, it would be a while before they even started repair work.
“Again?” Her voice was soft, a hint of amusement flowing through it. “You really are having a horrible night, aren’t you?”
Only when he was awake. Asleep was a totally different world, one where she wasn’t so far away. And he wasn’t tangled in the blankets alone.
Brennan yanked them from around his legs and scrambled to his feet. Conscious of his minimal clothing, even with the darkness, he wrapped one around his waist. “Are you okay?” he asked. With not much light, it was hard to tell how she was reacting to the storm.
“I’m fine. I’m going to check the breaker. See if that’s all this is.”
He doubted it was as simple as that, but he’d seen this kind of behavior before. People in situations they didn’t like tended to do things to feel productive or allow them some control. “I can do that,” he said. “Do you have a flashlight?”
“I’ve got my phone, but there are flashlights and battery lanterns in the kitchen cupboard above the fridge. I’m fine checking. You’ll freeze.”
“Evie—” He stopped. The protest was futile. She’d already pulled on boots and was sliding her arms into a heavy jacket that had been hanging by the door.
“Get the lights. I’ll be right back.” She tugged a thick woolen beanie onto her head and disappeared out the door. The cold air that rushed in sent a shiver through him. Maybe she had a point. Brennan started towards the kitchen, but then stopped and frowned. Evie voluntarily going out into the storm? That didn’t make sense. Had he misunderstood Lacey earlier? He suspected he was missing some pertinent information. He made his way to the kitchen for the lights and then stoked the fire. When she hadn’t returned by the time he’d set up lanterns in each of the rooms, he investigated his options for staying warm outside in case he needed to search for her. His suit, admittedly warm, wouldn’t handle an extended trip into the elements or give much protection against the icy wind.
Having inspected the coats by the door—all too small—he contemplated how he could wrangle a blanket more securely around his body when the door suddenly opened and Evie rushed through. She closed it quickly and leaned against it, her breath coming hard and fast.
“Evie?”
“I’m fine.” She blew out a breath and shook the snow off. “It’s a little colder and windier than I expected. There’s a tree down. I don’t think it’s what knocked out the power though. It missed the buildings and your truck, thankfully.” She peeled offher heavy coat and nudged off the bulky boots. “I also grabbed extra wood and put it outside the door for when we need it.” She made her way toward the fire, settled on the floor in front of it, and held her hands out to the flames.
Navigating his way around the furniture in the dim light was a challenge. Doing so with a blanket wrapped around him, and avoiding her various piles of goods, made it one of epic proportions. He managed, without any mishaps, and sat down next to her. She was rubbing her hands together, so he caught them between his, hissing at the contrast between his warmth and the iciness of her fingers.
“You didn’t wear gloves.”
Evie shrugged. “The breaker box is hard to get into. I just didn’t think it was going to be that cold. Anyone tell you your hands are incredibly warm.”
“Good thing for you they are.” He wrapped them more completely around hers.
“I love a good storm,” Evie said. “But I could do with less freezing.”
She what? “You love storms?”
“Yep. Especially when you are all safe inside with a roaring fire, a mug of hot chocolate, and a good book.” She smiled. “There’s something cozy and calming, I guess, about it. I mean, sure, there’s danger, but most of the time everything is fine, and you’ll be in this safe little world, and everything slows down for a bit. You don’t have to go anywhere or do anything. You just wait and ride it out.” Her eyes went wide. “Oh. Not that I wanted a storm to mess with Lacey’s wedding. I’m?—”
