“Clever.”
“Aren’t I?” I asked, handing it over.
Thankfully, the inside of the shack was how I’d left it. Which wasn’t, you know, great, but nothing had moved in or taken over inside.
“Christ, it’s blistering in here,” I said, making a beeline for the air conditioner as Caymen went to check the fridge. “Oh, thank God,” I said when the unit turned right on.
“This is working too,” Caymen told me, immediately rushing to put the meat away. Then the veggies and fruit. Before finally turning to take in the place.
“I mean… I wouldn’t wanna live here, but it’s got a roughing-it vibe to it.”
He wasn’t wrong.
I’d actually found it kind of charming when I’d first come across it. Everything all in one space. Not too much maintenance. If I actually put any work into it, it would have been kind of cute.
As it was, it had plain walls, a full-sized bed with a metal frame, a small seating area, but with wood furniture—nothingcushioned—a table and chairs, and the little strip for the kitchen. The only closed-off space was a minuscule bathroom with a shower I got a little claustrophobic thinking about, but it would do in a pinch.
“How the fuck you gonna sleep on a bed left in an un-air-conditioned house in Florida humidity?” he asked, zeroing in on it.
“The waterproof cover is doing some heavy lifting. But it’s actually a polymer mattress. You know, those grid-like ones you see on commercials? They hold up a lot better since they’re not fabric.”
He nodded at that.
“And the bedding is all in an airtight container jam-packed full of moisture absorbers. This might be the kind of place I stay in an emergency, but I’m not sleeping on musty, moldy bedding. No reception?” I asked as he pulled out his phone and started waving it around.
“It’s spotty. If I type it out and hold it up, I should be able to get it to go through. Just wanna tell Huck that we’re here. And that the reception might suck.”
“You should send him the address, just in case they need us but can’t call.”
“On it,” he agreed.
“Well, while you’re on that, I’m going to shower this day off,” I said, grabbing two of my bags and heading into the bathroom.
I set my toiletries in the shower, picked out a lightweight outfit in case the window unit wasn’t enough to keep the place at the glacial temperature I preferred, and stripped.
As I soaped up and washed the sweat and dirt off my skin, some part of me kept hoping that Caymen would barge in, would take off his own clothes, would climb into the shower stall with me and relieve the tension that had been bubbling in my system since I’d first climbed on that bike with him.
Realistically, I knew the both of us would never fit. But a girl could dream.
By the time I toweled off and got dressed in flowing, lightweight sundress in a soft creamy color that was a little uncharacteristic for me. I usually dressed for practicality or to be taken seriously. But I’d purchased it during my last little mini relationship for date nights that never really happened.
I didn’t bother with a bra because, well, it was hot. And also… I was totally okay with Caymen noticing.
And notice he did.
The second I stepped out of the bathroom, his head swiveled. Then he did a slow, thorough examination, lingering a bit longer than necessary on my chest.
“Feel better?” he asked.
“So much. Did you… clean?”
“Washed off all the plates and cups, so we have something to eat and drink with. Set up the water filter and put some water in the fridge to chill. Took the cover off the bed and put the sheets on.”
“How long was I in there?”
I wasn’t sure even I could have gotten all that done so quickly.
“Half an hour. Maybe a little longer. Almost came to check on you.”
