Chappy wasn’t a man to trust easily. But for some reason, he instinctively trusted Carlise. Maybe it was because she literally could’ve done anything while he’d been out of it. She could’ve robbed him blind, put drugs in his water to kill him, or completely left him to deal with his sickness on his own. She hadn’t done any of those things.
She’d taken care of him.
He hated being sick, hated feeling helpless, and this woman, a stranger, had stepped up and done what was necessary to make sure he didn’t die.
Not that Chappy thought he would’ve kicked the bucket, but he definitely would’ve been in trouble if she hadn’t been there. She’d kept the cabin warm by stoking the fire, she’d helped him to the bathroom when he’d needed it, made him drink as much as possible and take meds.
In short . . . she’d gone above and beyond to help a stranger.
Chappy straightened too quickly—and had to throw out a hand against the wall to keep himself from falling over. “No sudden moves,” he muttered before reaching for the door handle. He wanted to see Carlise. Talk to her. Get to know her. And hanging out in the bathroom wasn’t going to get him the answers he needed. He wanted to know everything about the woman in the other room. Where she was from. What she did for a living.
Why the hell she’d been driving around on the back roads of Maine in the middle of a storm.
He opened the door and headed straight for his dresser. With his back to the kitchen, he tore off the T-shirt he’d been wearing for way too long and replaced it with a clean one. Then without really thinking—because he hadn’t ever had an overnight guest in his cabin before—he pushed his boxers down his legs and bent over to put on a clean pair.
He heard a slight gasp from the direction of the kitchen, and grimaced.
“Sorry,” he muttered, not turning around as he fumbled with one of the drawers and looked for a pair of sweats. “I forgot you were there.”
That was far from the truth. An undercurrent of awareness swam through his bloodstream. In the past, he’d felt edgy and uncomfortable when he knew someone was watching him . . . but Carlise’s gaze caused more of a buzzing feeling than an alarming one.
“It’s okay,” she said quietly.
Chappy finished dressing, then picked up his dirty clothes and added them to the hamper next to the dresser. He took a deep breath and finally turned to face his guest. He ignored the bed for now—he’d been laid up there for too long—and headed for the small table. His legs shook slightly, and he cursed his weakness.
“I made you a sandwich,” she said as she placed a plate in front of him on the table. “I wanted to make you some soup or something, but I didn’t think you’d want to eat it cold.”
Chappy looked up at her with a frown. “Why would I eat it cold?”
“Well, because you don’t have electricity, and if I tried to heat it on the fire, I’d probably burn it, or my hand, and ruin your pan in the process.”
“The stove is gas,” he said softly.
“What?”
“The stove. It runs on propane. I have a small tank under the sink that it’s hooked up to. I can heat water, sauté stuff, make pasta and rice, and anything else you can make with a pan on the stove top.”
Carlise stared at him for a long moment. “Oh,” she finally muttered.
“There’s also an icebox on the side of the porch. I use it in the winter because it’s more economical than plugging in the small fridge I have out in the storage building. I’ve got meat, milk, and cheese out there. Eggs, too, but they’re probably frozen solid. Hell, most likely everything is.”
“Wait, you have a fridge you can plug in? I didn’t think there was any electricity here,” she said.
She hadn’t sat down, was still standing next to the table staring at him. Chappy wanted to reach out and pull her into the other seat, but he also didn’t want to freak her out by touching her without permission. Yes, they’d slept wrapped around each other, and she hadn’t freaked out when he’d put his hand on her thigh earlier, but he didn’t want to push his luck.
“I have a generator outside. When I need to charge my electronics or use the few electrical appliances I have here and there, I can start it up and get some juice for a while. I don’t use it a lot, as the generator is loud, and I like the peace and quiet of the place.” He sighed. “I’m so sorry,” he said, shaking his head.
“For what?”
“For not giving you a tour, for not explaining how stuff around here works before I passed out on you.”
“It’s not like you did it on purpose,” she said with a small shrug. “I should’ve figured out the stove. That was stupid of me.”
Chappy didn’t like hearing her disparage herself. “You aren’t stupid. You managed to keep the fire going. You took care of me. You did what you needed to do in order to survive. Just because you didn’t know about the stove or the generator doesn’t make you stupid.”
She shrugged again.
“Will you sit with me while I eat?” Chappy asked.
She glanced at the sandwich she’d made for him and winced as she reached for the plate. “Let me heat you some soup. You don’t have to eat that.”
Chappy reacted without thought. He grabbed her wrist to prevent her from picking up the plate. “Peanut butter and jelly is one of my favorite foods in the world,” he told her, completely seriously. “Why do you think I have so many jars of the stuff?”
His thumb caressed her wrist as she studied him, probably trying to decide whether to press the issue or not. Her skin was remarkably smooth, and he could feel her pulse hammering in her wrist. He wasn’t sure if it was because she was scared or if it was his touch that made her breathe faster.
It was the uncertainty that made him let go. The last thing he wanted was to make her uncomfortable.
He might not have invited her here, but she was here now, and with the way the storm outside sounded, she wasn’t leaving anytime soon. He didn’t want to make her stay awkward or uncomfortable. Especially after what she’d done for him.
Chappy couldn’t remember the last time someone had taken care of him without any expectations. After he and his friends had been rescued, they’d been taken to a military hospital in Germany, where nurses and doctors had looked after them and done what they could to heal their injuries, but that had been their job. Women had fawned all over him when he’d first returned to the States, but Chappy knew it was because he and his friends were all over the media after everything that had happened. The last thing he wanted was someone dating him out of a desire to be with someone “famous.”
Chappy was pretty sure the woman standing next to his kitchen table, looking adorably mussed, had no idea what had happened to him. She hadn’t made sure he was warm, fed, and hydrated because she’d seen his face on the news. She’d done it out of the goodness of her heart. Yes, she was essentially trapped in the cabin with him because of the storm, but if she truly hadn’t cared about his well-being, she could’ve done the bare minimum.
“Please sit, Carlise,” Chappy requested again.
To his relief, she pulled out the chair next to him and slowly lowered herself onto it.
Chappy held out his hand as he said, “Maybe we can start over. I’m Riggs Chapman. My friends call me Chappy.”
“Carlise Edwards,” she said somewhat shyly, putting her hand in his.
“It’s nice to meet you,” he said with a smile. “Welcome to my home away from home.”
He saw the question in her eyes as she shook his hand. He didn’t want to let go, but he did anyway. “I have an apartment in Newton. It’s the closest town to here. My friends and I own a tree service company called Jack’s Lumber, which is based out of there.”
“Who’s Jack?” she asked with a slight frown.
“Right . . . so, maybe I should go back a bit. My friends and I were all in the military together. When we got out, we decided to go into business.”
“Cal, Bob, and JJ, right?” she asked.
“Yup. Callum ‘Cal’ Redmon, Kendric ‘Bob’ Evans, and Jackson ‘JJ’ Justice are my best friends. We could’ve called the business Lumberjacks, but I think JJ would’ve had a hissy fit.”