“Phoebe?!”
Evander comes around the corner.I can barely see a sliver of his expression under the parka hood and balaclava, but even in a blizzard, it’s enough to see how pissed off he is.
“What theever-loving fuck are you doing out here?”
He rushes toward me and before I know it, I’m off the ground, out of the snow, and he’s carrying me to the cabin.
“Really?”he yells.“We’re doing this again?”
He knees open the front door, uses a snowshoe to toss aside the tarps, and sets me down.He points toward the couch.“Strip.Cover up.Stay near the fire.”
I watch his eyes track to the warming pan of Beefaroni.His head snaps to me.
“I made you some lunch,” I say, knowing that I’ve managed to make a fool of myself in the process.
CHAPTER 26
Evander
I sit on the floor by the fire, wearing the sweater that smells like Phoebe and eating the Beefaroni she made for me.It ain’t the Chateaubriand from Chez Julien in Paris, but it tastes great.
I eat in silence while Phoebe trembles just a few feet away on the couch, wrapped up in the blankets.It’s giving me a case of déjà vu.
Déjà vu.Chateaubriand.And the storm of the century.I shake my head.I’m so fucking angry with myself.
I’m a methodical man—in body, mind, and emotion.I’ve forged these elements into a sharp blade of self-discipline, which I’ve used to carve out every single success I’ve had in my life.
So what the fuck is going on with me?I let my mind wander to Phoebe while I was up on that roof, and that instant of distraction nearly killed me.
I glance up at her.She stares straight ahead.
This going to suck, but it has to be done.We’re both adults, and I think we’re at the point where we have to talk it out.Maybe putting everything on the table will release some of the built-up steam between us.It might help us both get through this next day or so, since the storm isn’t letting up.
I barely want to admit this to myself, but I think the blizzard is worse today.If that’s even possible.
I glance up at her.She’s biting her lower lip.Her eyes are heavy-lidded, and her chin is tipped down and to the side.The firelight casts shadows on her pretty, freckled face.A few brown curls peek out from the blankets.
She’s hurt.I dissed her after I finished her sutures.I yelled at her just now for coming to rescue me.
I can be a real prick.
But the chat has to happen, and I’ll have to start it:Phoebe, I know that you’re attracted to me.I’m attracted to you, too.But this can't happen.Why?Because you're not sexually experienced and it's not fair to you.
That’s good.I like that.What next?Phoebe, people make bad choices when they believe they’re in danger.Studies have shown that a heightened sense of danger leads to risk-taking behavior.Emotions and physical sensations are intensified.People act on urges they would otherwise be able to resist.
That’s not so good.I sound like my ex, the PhD candidate, and nobody wants that shit.
I could always just cut to the meat of the matter:Phoebe, I want you so fucking bad.So bad it’s making me reckless-stupid.But I can’t let myself go there.Please understand—I will not take advantage of a woman who isn’t ready for me.
Phoebe turns my way.Her eyes are fixed and serious.That kissable mouth of hers is turned down.
“I went outside because you fell off the roof.”
“Without a coat or shoes, which was incredibly careless, especially after what you’ve been through.Anyway, I’m uninjured.”
“But I didn’t know that.”
I push off the floor and fill the pan with water and drop the spoon in, then set it on the rock to heat up.Doing dishes in the wild, and all that.
