I shook my head at the crazy animal. It was so strange. Just yesterday, Maggie and I were coming in from the snow, entering a silent cabin. Less than twenty-four hours later, we were doing the same thing, but the cabin was very different. There was life in here now. Life I didn’t realize I’d missed.
“Smells good,” I said as I unwrapped the scarf from around my face and began peeling everything off. The scent of bacon made everything better. Always.
Zoe came around the corner, a bucket in her hands, her hair in some wild knot thing on her head, pieces flying out in different directions. “You look like the abominable snowman,” she said and placed the bucket on the counter. I recognized it as the one I’d been soaking her clothes in.
“Well, you have a mild resemblance to Medusa at the moment. If you wrote paranormal, you could hook those two up.”
Her hand flew to her hair and she laughed, a lovely, joyous sound. “Well, you better be careful, or I’ll turn you to stone.”
I grabbed a towel and started to dry the snow and ice from my beard. “I’m already an ice cube so it won’t take much.”
Smiling, she stepped over to the stove and turned the bacon sizzling there. A sense of déjà vu that was so strong it nearly knocked me sideways assaulted me. How many times had I watched Jessica do just that? Dark hair piled on top of her head. Robe dangling around her legs. Feet bare despite the cold. Moving around the kitchen so naturally she looked like she was born there.
“You okay?”
I blinked and realized she’d caught me staring, my coat half on, half off, like I had indeed been turned into the hunk of rock I’d just teased her about.
I grunted something and finished pulling off the bulky jacket. Hanging it on the hook, I bent to untie my boots. I didn’t answer her question. I couldn’t because I didn’t know how to answer it honestly. Was I okay? I didn’t know.
The fridge opened, and I looked up to find her pulling out a carton of eggs. I needed to remember to take a carton from the freezer to thaw or we wouldn’t have enough for tomorrow. I had powdered eggs and some frozen mixes, but they weren’t the same as when you broke the shell yourself.
“Omelets okay?”
My chest grew heavy, like a vice was squeezing off my breath. “Yeah. Omelets are terrific.”
She flashed another smile that lit up the universe and began breaking eggs and chopping vegetables. “Anything special you like?”
Yeah. You. Bent over the counter, my cock buried deep in your wet pussy, your breasts in my hands as you scream my name.
“Not picky. I’ll eat anything.”
Especially you. I want to spread your legs apart and feast on your sweet flesh, fuck you with my tongue and fingers until you come on my face.
Disgusted with my lizard brain, I stalked into the bedroom to change out of my wet clothes. Choosing thick sweat pants and a fresh t-shirt, I changed out of the loose boxers I normally wore to a pair of tighter boxer briefs. Maybe these would put a stranglehold on my damn dick.
Back in the living room, I tossed more logs onto the fire as I watched Zoe squinting at a manual, her lower lip caught between her teeth. Jesus. Was there anything she did that wasn’t sensual as all hell?
I cleared my throat. “Need help?”
She frowned in frustration, blinking as she moved the manual back and forth. “My vision is still a bit blurry.” She pointed at the Mr. Coffee machine sitting to the side. “That, I know how to use. I’m not totally useless as a human.”
I laughed. “Want me to start the generator? All the outlets will work, and you’ll be in civilization again.”
She looked up at the nonworking lights, then around the cabin. “No, that’s okay. I like it like this. I didn’t even realize the zing of noise electricity makes. It’s so quiet this way.” She laughed, blushing. “Sorry, I’m being overly dramatic. It’s just making me feel a bit closer to my heroines to not have everything at a press of a button.”
I want to press your button. Take it between my teeth, suck it into my mouth.
“Gray?”
I was staring again, and I ran a hand through my hair, realizing I was probably freaking her out. “Sorry. Let me show you how to make coffee the French way. Maybe tomorrow we’ll try to make some over the fire. You’ll really appreciate your heroines’ suffering then.”
The soft seafoam green of her eyes was locked onto me as I approached. She swallowed hard. “I, um, boiled water and am letting it cool a bit liked the directions say.”
I glanced at the stove where the bacon was draining and a skillet sat ready for the omelets. A pan of water sat to the side of a burner. Reaching into the cabinet, I pulled the coffee beans and grinder out.
She bobbed her eyebrows up and down. “Fancy.”
“Yeah, all abominable snowmen like their beans freshly ground.”
She rolled her eyes and watched with interest as I poured some beans into the grinder, like she was memorizing my every move. “You want to do this while I supervise?”
A blush crept up onto her cheeks. “Sure. Then I’ll be able to add a new skill to my ridiculously short list of them. Who knew adulting could present so many challenges?”
I watched her close the bag of beans and replace it in the cabinet. Even her hands were lovely. Unpolished nails, just a little longer than the tips of her fingers only complemented their graceful length.
“How old are you?” The question burst out of me.
She smiled, shooting me a curious look. “How old do you think I am?”
Oh, no. No. No. No. I wasn’t falling into that trap. I lifted my hands in surrender. “No way in hell am I guessing.”
She closed the lid of the grinder, looking at it closely. “Fine. If you have to know, I’m seventeen.”
Oh, good god. I was a dirty old man. Shit. Fuck. Damn.
She laughed. “I turned twenty-two last week, but the look on your face was worth the lie.”
A rush of air pushed out of my lungs. Good. At least I wasn’t fantasizing about a child. That would have sent me over some edge of no return.
“How old are you?” she asked. “And how do you turn this thing on?”
I smirked. “Forty-one.”
It was her turn to gape. Two could play at this game. Then I realized that if she believed me, my ego might never recover.
Her eyes narrowed but still flashed with good humor. “I’m calling bullshit on that one.”
“Then you would have called correctly. Knock ten years off that. I’m thirty-one. And to answer your other question, push down on the top.”
She looked back at the grinder. “Oh.” Then pushed down. The scream of the grinder caused her to jump back, both of her hands flying to her head as her face twisted into a mask of agony.
I reached for her. Shit. I hadn’t thought about the noise. Pulling her to my chest, I held her head against me, making soothing sounds into her hair.
Long moments passed. I just held her, needing her closeness as much as it seemed she needed mine. Her hands slipped under my t-shirt, her fingertips pressing into my back. Stroking a hand down her spine, I stopped just above her lush ass, wanting to move lower, wanting to feel it in my hand.