Sheets of wind splattering on the windows held her attention. “I’m sure their hands are full. Flash floods happen when the weather is like this.” She circled a dishcloth over a spot on the counter. “I can make up the guest bedroom.”
Reid stood and resisted stepping into her space. If only he could hold her in his arms like he wanted. Reassure her about taking a risk. “I don’t know why I came here or how I know you. But I swear…” He offered her the sheathed knife. “You’re safe with me.
Her gaze met his with no hints of doubt. “I know. Keep the knife. I trust you.”
“All right.” He laid the knife on the counter. Tightness rolled from his shoulders. “You don’t have to fix up the room. I’m fine out here on the couch.” The instinct to have her tucked away in a room overwhelmed him. Not to dampen sexual motivation but for protection. Here, he’d have a view of all the doors. Kitchen knives and fireplace tools would provide weapons if he needed them.
“I’ll get you a pillow.”
She retrieved it and placed it on the couch. “See you in the morning.” Lauren went to the bedroom. The lock to her door clicked into place.
Good girl. She took chances but kept her guard up. Reid waited for her to settle down for the night. Then, silent in his bare feet, he crept through the cabin. Two bedrooms and a bathroom down the hall. An upstairs loft had boxes. He checked the locks on the windows and propped kitchen chairs against the doors. The chef’s knife from the butcher block slid nicely under his pillow as a backup. He’d sleep on the floor near the fireplace tools.
Calm settled with the self-assurance he could provide protection. Anxiety over the unknown kept him awake. Did he have a cabin or a campsite nearby? Had he noticed Lauren somewhere and found her attractive? The images of her could have manifested as a fantasy. But what combination of events would have led him to seek her out?
Don’t go to the police, and trust his gut. That made sense, too. Unanswered questions about his identity would raise suspicion. Worse, land him in a holding cell.
He couldn’t let that happen. Tomorrow he’d hike around and search for answers. For now, he had to look after Lauren and keep her trust.
Chapter 8
One hair band, that’s all she needed. Lauren rifled through her smaller bag. At home they showed up everywhere. She found them in the freezer, inside her favorite shoes, multiplying like rabbits under the bed. Didn’t she pack at least one? Forget about it. She knotted her hair into a ponytail. Lack of sleep had fried her patience. She couldn’t shut him out. Counting sheep last night had turned into an image of Reid doing a striptease. She’d dreamed about them finishing what they’d started with that kiss. From the look in his eyes, he wouldn’t complain. A sexual encounter with a super-hot, mysterious stranger read like something out of a novel.
She couldn’t sleep with him. A decision like that qualified as desperate, crazy, or reckless. He knew her name, whereas she had no clue about him. Worry, anxiety, suspicion—why weren’t any of those warning bells sounding off? She’d even agreed not to call the police. Was it because in some ways he reminded her of her dad? He had the same strong, confident bearing like a soldier. She had agonized over going through her father’s possessions before she’d arrived. Her friends also claimed she had major issues over what had happened with her parents. Was this some weird transference in attempt to deal with the loss?
Bowls rattled in the kitchen. The scent of brewing coffee wafted into the bedroom.
Maybe he’d solved his dilemma and he’d remembered who to call. She’d lend him her phone. Drop him off where ever he wanted on her way to the store in Mazree. They’d part ways, and she’d have a good story to share over wine with her friends. Disappointment pinged. She shrugged it off. She had a Good Samaritan role to play. Nothing more. She went to the dresser and found lip balm in her purse. Shadows hung under her eyes. Great. She tugged the hem of her T-shirt over the waistband of her jeans. Last night she’d resembled a drowned rat. Not to mention the jelly stains on her shirt. Today, she looked washed out. Lauren dug out her makeup bag. A little foundation, blush, eyeliner, and a touch of lip tint. Nothing much. It wasn’t like she needed to impress him. Right. As she approached the kitchen, she stumbled.
Damn. Who knew jeans and a snug T-shirt could look so good?
“Good morning.” Reid held up a full coffee carafe. “How do you like it?”
Under, over, up against the wall. Any way that would put her in contact with his hard pecs and abs. That is, if she was interested. “Good morning.” She took a mug from the cabinet. “Thanks, but I’ll fix a cup. You don’t have to wait on me.”
“I want to.” He slipped the mug from her hand. Sunlight streaming into the kitchen highlighted flecks of green in his hazel eyes. The scents of soap and shampoo surrounded her. He’d taken advantage of the small essentials kit she’d put in the bathroom. Up close, the smooth angles of his face tempted her to touch.