“I was kind of spoiled, I guess.” Oh, crap. I wouldnottear up again. I refused. “Just me and Dad and my grandparents.”
He frowned. “No mom?”
“Dad had custody. She wasn’t in the picture.”
We ate silently for a while. I kept picturing little Micah, surrounded by screaming girls.
“What you smiling at?”
“Oh.” Iwassmiling. Funny I hadn’t noticed. “I always wanted sisters.”
He let out another little huff of amusement. “Wasn’t all a walk in the park. When I was real little, they dressed me up in their clothes. Makeup and everything. Took me out into the neighborhood to show me off.”
I almost spat out my beer.
“You like that, huh?”
“Can’t picture it.”
“Wasn’t always this hairy.” He rubbed his beard one-handed, then sobered. “Dad wasn’t into it. Shut it right down.”
“Don’t suppose you have any pictures of those days?”
“No.” He threw me a dirty look and finished his beer. “Want another?”
“Sure.”
He went and pulled out the entire six-pack, grabbed a couple, which he opened and put on the table, then put the other two out on the front porch.
“Shouldn’t open the fridge too much.”
“Oh, right.” I eyed him as he sat back down at the table. “You have a lot of experience with outages up here?”
“Every year.”
“You like it.” It wasn’t a question. I could see that it satisfied him, in some way, to be alone in the wild, without power, no connection to the outside world. How would that be, not to have to worry about anything but survival? “I get that. Must feel good to be cut off for a while.”
“Yeah?” His look was skeptical. “You’d want a shower eventually.”City girl.He didn’t have to say the words for me to hear them tacked onto the end of that sentence.
“Probably. But I don’t mind the occasional dirty weekend.” I was talking about a day or two spent in PJs, not leaving the house or showering, but the way his expression changed told me he was seeing something different. “That’s not what I meant.”
“What?” His voice was low, almost a whisper, his eyes heavy lidded, but sparkling with what looked a whole lot like interest, his tone almost teasing.
“Your mind’s on an entirely different kind of dirty.” I could easily have pretended I didn’t know what he meant, ignored the way he watched me, the shift in the air.
“One of those weekends where people stay in and watch movies in their nighties? Eat ice cream and shit?”
“Not quite.” I don’t think he even noticed that he’d leaned over the table toward me. “I’m picturing you up here, alone, doing some kind of outdoorsy stuff.” I waved vaguely toward the front door. “No music or movies or internet. Just pure, unadulterated survival.”
“Keeps me sane.”
I imagined me—us—in this cabin, the way we were today, except in bed, together. I wouldn’t need too much distraction if I had this guy around. From out of the blue, something occurred to me. “You have a girlfriend?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Other than my sisters and clients, you’re the first woman I’ve spoken more than ten words to in ages.”
