I glare at him. “I don’t want to be his babysitter. And I’m a fast learner?—”
“No, Blair.” The finality in Ledger’s tone causes my back to stiffen and my hands to curl into fists.
I bristle. I haven’t been toldnoin years. Before I can decide if I want to storm off in a huff, Santi is there, wrapping his arm around my waist and guiding me toward the house. A raindrop hits his forehead, then mine, and the wind picks up on a howl.
“Look,cariño,you don’t want to chop down trees with us in the rain. It’ll be miserable,” he assures me. “Idon’t even want to do it but duty calls. We’ll be back in a few hours and we can hang out then.” He ducks his head to whisper closer in my ear. “It’s been a while since I’ve gotten to taste you. I’ve been dying to devour your sweet pussy again. How about, when I get home, I pin you down onto my mattress and I feast on you for the rest of night?”
My face burns as his words warm me from the inside out.
Other than a few kisses here and there, the two of us haven’t had a moment alone in a while. It’s mostly because of me. Between mentally preparing myself to leave and not wanting to come between Santi and Rhett, I’ve purposefully distanced myself from him.
But now that I’ve decided to stay, I don’t want to keep my distance.
With an elbow into his side, I step out from under Santi’s arm and skip up the porch steps.
“You’re abandoning me,” I tell him, playfully being stubborn. “I don’t know if I want to stay in your bed tonight.”
“Then we can useyourbed tonight,” he says, his tone still playful. “Just picture it: my face buried in your wet pussy andyour head nestled into your pillow. Honestly, I can’t imagine a more romantic evening.” There’s a pause before he adds, “And if you get too sensitive before I’m done we can just cuddle.”
I turn to look down at him from where Santi stands at the bottom of the porch steps. Before he can hide it, there’s a flicker of vulnerability in his expression. It’s as if he wants this but doesn’t want to push.
I frown as I consider something. “You know what? I’ve never literally slept with anyone before. What if I snore?”
Santi grins. “No worries, I’ll just suffocate you with a pillow.”
My laugh is a bit strangled as I consider the intimacy of such a request. I’m so used to being alone that the idea of sharing a bed for anything other than sex feels exciting… in the sense that approaching a wild predator in the hopes to touch it is exciting. I hesitate a second longer, only to fight back the anxiety of what-ifs that bubble up, before I nod.
“Alright,” I point at him and give him a stern glare. “But no hogging the covers.”
“Deal!”
With that, he jogs off after Wes and Ledger, who are heading down to Zone One where the Gnarly Pines work trucks are. Their personal vehicles sit beside the cabin, completely ignored. I watch until they’re completely out of sight, then I sigh and head inside.
I endup cleaning the first floor of the cabin to keep myself from going insane.
Between Wes and I, we keep this house pretty straightened but I need to dosomethingor I’ll go stir crazy. It’s not until the floors are swept, vacuumed, and mopped, every flat surface is dusted and the windows are clean that I finally flop down onto the couch to watch some television.
As a kid, the ability to watch TV was a once in a blue moon treat. It was only when Dad could find a motel that was obscure enough not to draw attention, and safe, that I could plop down onto the mattress—another luxury I didn’t often get—and flip on some random TV show. As an adult, I see it the same way. The house is clean and now I can indulge for a little bit.
I’m not sure how much time passes between picking my show and passing out but I jolt awake to the sound of heavy booted footsteps dragging themselves down the hallway. I sit up and look over my shoulder, my hand going to my waistband to settle over the handle of the gun. By the time my fingers have wrapped around it, I realize I’m hearing Rhett.
He passes by the entrance of the living room toward the kitchen, not sparing me a glance. Dressed in a brown plaid flannel, a white stained t-shirt and jeans—it looks like he hadn’t changed from when he came home from workhoursago. His hair is disheveled and greasy, and his face looks almost waxy from lack of color and life. I grimace as the smell of alcohol trails after him and drifts into the room.
I open my mouth to ask if he’s okay but then close it. It’s not worth being yelled at. That’s the only way he’s been communicating to any of us lately so, no doubt, that’s what I’ll get for offering any assistance. If Rhett wants to be alone in his drunken stupor, who am I to get in his way?
With a sigh, I lay back down and my eyes drift to the television screen. Huh, looks like the sitcom I was watching has changed to some sort of documentary on the evolution of seacreatures? I grimace. I hate the ocean. Reaching down, I grab for the remote but freeze when I hear the back door open and shut.
“Rhett?” I call out, sitting back up again. There’s no response. I try again. “Rhett? Are you there?”
When he doesn’t answer again, I toss off the throw blanket from my legs and get to my feet. Quietly, I tiptoe to the hallway and peer down it, toward the kitchen.
“Rhett…?”
The sound of a truck engine coming to life causes my heart to leap up into my throat. I rush down the hallway, into the empty kitchen and throw open the back door. As I step out onto the porch, Rhett’s truck is backing up. He pulls out too far, almost hitting the chairs around the campfire before it screeches to a stop.
Oh, no… He’s too drunk to be driving. What is he thinking? Shit! With a shout, I start waving my hands in the air to get his attention. I try to hurry down the steps but the rain that’s now coming down in hard sheets makes them slick and I slip, taking the last two on my butt.
“Shit!” I hiss as I scramble to my feet. “RHETT!”
