CHAPTER EIGHT
Standing at the granite-topped island in the kitchen, Chloe unloaded the bags of supplies they’d hauled inside. Across the room Wes worked on building a fire in the fireplace. It hadn’t surprised her that he already had logs of firewood both in the fireplace ready to be lit and a basket of the logs on the hearth when they entered the cabin. She had a feeling he rarely was caught unprepared.
The man had an efficient smoothness to his movements. Despite the black holster that stretched from one shoulder to the other where a gun was cradled just beneath his left arm, she could see the way his shirt stretched over his muscles, accentuating the power in his upper body. And then there was the way his jeans stretched across his thighs and ass as he squatted.
“You getting warmer?” he asked, standing to rub his hands in front of the fire.
Oh yeah. She wasn’t sure if it was the heat from the fire or him, but she was certainly warm.
“Chloe?”
She blinked, finding him staring at her with concern in his eyes. “Oh, yes. Definitely warmer.”
“If you’ve got the cold stuff in the fridge, the rest can wait until tomorrow. What you need is some sleep,” he said, heading into the small room on the opposite side of the cabin.
The bedroom. The only bedroom.
The place she’d spent a night in two weeks ago, with him. The night about which she remembered nothing. Nothing except waking up in her underwear in his very rumpled bed.
Would he expect them to pick up where they’d left off? Would he expect her to remember that night? Should she tell him she didn’t remember anything they may or may not have done?
Her body flushed with heat that had nothing to do with the fire. Nervously, she turned to the back counter and began organizing the boxes of little pods of coffee Wes bought for the coffee maker. Funny, he’d bought eight different flavors, none of them decaffeinated.
“I wasn’t sure which kind you’d like,” he said from right behind her, causing her to jump back and into him. He caught her by the elbows. “I’ve got you.”
“Don’t do that,” she said, glancing over her shoulder to see him staring down into her eyes, a different kind of fire in them.
“Catch you or scare you?” His voice was low and husky.
“Both,” she whispered, then licked her lips.
The air around her thickened. She struggled to take a deep breath as his hand slid up her arms to her hands. He laced his fingers with her, pulling her up against his body and wrapping both their arms around her.
“You’re safe, here Chloe. I won’t let anything happen to you,” he whispered, his lips millimeters from hers. Then he lowered his mouth, capturing her lips. The pressure of his lips on hers was gentle, reassuring. He pulled back, their lips clinging for a second at the end. “We’ve had a long, stressful day. I think it’s time to get some sleep.”
He released his hold on her and reached the light switch on the wall to click off the lights in the main cabin. Stepping back, he motioned her towards the lit bedroom. Her body and brain a jangled mess of nerves, she walked, straight-backed, ahead of him.
Could she do this? Could she just climb into bed with a man she hardly knew? Consciously? Because she obviously could do it so drunk she had black out sex with the man. But if she went through with it this time, it would be because she wanted him, wanted to make love to him.
At the door, he stopped her, with a hand on her shoulder.
“What?” she asked, trying not to jump out of her skin at his touch.
The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. “After you change, open the door before you get in bed. That way the fire can warm that room, too. Otherwise you’re going to get very cold in there tonight.”
Blinking, she peeked into the bedroom where he’d folded down one side of the bed and laid out a flannel shirt. Surprised, she swiveled her gaze back to him.
“You’re going to need something to sleep in. I’d advise keeping socks on, too,” he said stepping away.
“Where…?” She let the question drift off.
“I’m taking the couch tonight.” Sitting on the couch he took off his boots and then took off his gun holster, laying it on the end table. He stood and reached for the button of his jeans, pausing to stare at her. “Don’t stand there tempting me, Chloe.”
She practically jumped into the bedroom, shut the door behind her and leaned her back against it, sucking in air and willing her heart rate to slow. Her body relaxed and she quickly felt the change in the temperature inside the room. He was right. She’d have to sleep with the door open. Of course that was assuming she’d sleep at all tonight.
Shivering, she stripped out of her work clothes and snatched up the wool flannel shirt he’d left on the bed. It was at least two sizes too big for her in width, but the tails of the shirt only grazed inches above her knees. Chuckling, she was glad she was tall. Bobby would’ve had this thing hitting her mid-calf. She pulled the white scrunch-style socks out of the Walmart bag and shoved her feet into one pair, sighing at the sudden warmth on her feet. A quick search of Wes’s closet and she found a free hanger to hang up her wool skirt and sweater she’d worn to work.
Ready for bed, she opened the door, the only light in the other room from the embers in the now-banked fire. She could see Wes’s silhouette stretched out on the couch beneath a quilt. Shivering again, she hustled into the bed and burrowed beneath the sheets and layers of quilts.
Suddenly weary, she drifted asleep, her last thought was whether she’d remember this night tomorrow.
* * * * *
“You’re open late, tonight, Lorna,” Deputy Sheriff Jason Clarke said as he slipped onto a counter stool at the Peaches ’N Cream Café, just after midnight.
Pulling off his gloves, he laid them on the counter beside him, placed his cell phone on top of them where he could see it, and opened his heavy coat. Not warm enough to take it off just yet. As the youngest deputy in the department, he’d pulled night duty for the month. Starting his third week, he was glad the café was still open tonight. A hot meal would be way better than the peanut butter and jelly he’d packed this evening.
“Figured we’d best keep a pot of coffee on and some soup on the stove in case any of the usual truckers make it to town. So far, only Jack and Clarence made it in,” she said, nodding to the two truckers who were working on their soup in a corner booth. She flipped up a coffee mug in front of him and filled it with hot coffee. “I’ve got some blankets and pillows in the office for them. Can’t have you finding them frozen to death in their truck cabs tonight.”
He grinned at her. “I surely appreciate that.” As he took a drink of the coffee, he looked around the café. “I thought your new waitress—Hannah, wasn’t it?—was working the closing shifts this month. That’s what Glenna told me the other day.”
“Girl called in sick yesterday and I haven’t heard from her tonight. Although it’s just as well. I’d have sent her on home before the weather hit, anyways. I’ve only got room for Rachel to sleep in my office. And Pete has the upstairs apartment now.”
She gave him a pat on the shoulder as she passed with a pot of coffee in the direction of the truckers.
Movement from the kitchen caught his eye. Pete, the main cook for the café, walked his way. The man usually had on one of the café’s signature tee shirts with an apron over top and his long, thin grey hair pulled back in a red, white and blue bandana. Today he also had a heavy cardigan on.
“Evening, Pete.”
“Evening, Deputy. Gotcha something to warm you up.” He placed a piping hot bowl of beef vegetable soup and a plate of fresh cornbread muffins in front of him.
“Smells great, Pete.” Jason’s stomach picked that moment to growl in appreciation of the aroma coming from the food. Shrugging out of his uniform coat, he laid it on the stool beside him. He slipped his spoon in the edge, scooped up broth and meat, blowing on it before eating it. “Damn, Pete, that’s good. This sure beats the sack lunch I have back over at the Sheriff’s office.”
“Well, my mama always said, when the weather gets bad, make soup,” Pete said with a grin, then moseyed back into the kitchen.
Jason buttered the muffins and ate his meal as he considered what he knew about Pete. The story was that Pete wandered into the Peaches ’N Cream about fourteen years ago, not long after Lorna’s husband had died. Lorna needed help in the kitchen since her daughter Rachel was only a toddler at the time. Pete picked up a knife, started cutting vegetables for a stew and never left.
The man was old enough to have served in Vietnam, according to Jason’s boss, Sheriff Gage Justice. Gage’s father, the former sheriff, had dug into Pete’s military history, but kept the file closed, once he’d determined that the cook only wanted a simple life of working and living in the small town. Gage joked that his dad made the decision once he’d had a helping of his biscuits and sausage gravy one morning.
“You certainly did that plate justice,” Lorna said, stepping back behind the counter once more and refilling his mug. “You planning on dessert? All I have is chocolate cake.”
He glanced at his phone. No calls. No texts. “Might as well. I’ve already made the rounds of the shops on Main Street. Doubt anyone wants to loot anyone on a night as bad as this.”
Lorna took a slice of cake from the glass enclosed desert counter and set it in front of him. “Did you happen to stop by the Baptist Church and see if old Earl was inside for the night? I sent a message with Wes this morning for him to talk to Pastor Miller about helping out for the winter. Sent a coat with him, too.”
“Sure did,” Jason said, scooping up a forkful of rich chocolate decadence. “Pastor was packing Earl into his van and taking him home for the night. Told him he wanted extra help around the house with the storm, what with Ms. Suzie expecting their first baby and all.”
Lorna snorted and shook her head. “Whatever could that old coot do to help with a pregnant woman?”
Jason drank some coffee to wash the cake down before answering. “I got the impression the pastor wanted Earl at the house and not at the church in case the power went out there. I don’t think he wanted to come back tomorrow and find him frozen to death in the church. Helping at his place was an excuse to take him home.”
“That would be Zebadiah Miller for you.” Lorna paused a moment. “Although, I’ll bet Suzy called and suggested the whole plan. That woman would take in a stray mountain lion if she thought it needed tending to.”
Headlights flashed in the window. Everyone turned to see a county road construction truck with a snowplow attached, parking in the lot.
“That’ll be André Danner,” Jason said, returning his attention to the chocolate cake. “He stopped by the sheriff’s office as the snow got heavier and said he’d do a few passes on the main streets as well as the highway before it got too bad outside.”
A moment later the bells over the café entrance chimed. André stepped inside the café. The twenty-something African American stomped the snow off his boots on the thick mat and nodded at the truck drivers before heading to the counter.
“The weather channel predicted at least a foot of snow when it first started. There must be that out there now with no end in sight. Will plowing now make any difference?” Lorna asked, reaching under the counter to pull out another mug and setting it at the empty spot next to Jason.
“Not sure, Ms. Lorna,” André said, wrapping his hands around the mug of hot coffee. “But Mayor Rawlins and Mr. Russett believe it might make the roads fairly passible in the morning once the snow stops.”
Harold Russett was the town’s city engineer and head of the county road maintenance crew, André’s boss. Jason met them both when they helped dig Gage out of a cave-in caused by an underground explosion near a Meth lab last spring.
Lorna peered out the window at Main Street. “I can hardly see the street lamps. Is it still coming down pretty good? It’s hard to tell with all that wind blowing.”
“Thanks, Pete,” André said as a bowl of soup and plate of muffins appeared in front of him. “That’s part of the problem right now. I plow the road ahead and the wind fills it in behind me. Sort of feel like that cartoon where one man is digging a hole at the same time another man is filling it in. Was considering heading home, but the roads out my way aren’t near the main arteries. Hate to get snowed in there and leave the town stranded in the morning,” he said before tucking into his food.
“You can camp out in one of the back cells over at the sheriff’s office,” Jason said with a grin. “Old Earl swears the cots aren’t too bad.”
André stopped with a spoonful of soup halfway to his mouth. “You serious?”
“Yep. I have to stay up all night. You can get some sleep and I’ll wake you if and when the snow stops. Gage and the Mayor have been checking in almost every hour to see if anyone’s reported power outages or accidents. I’ll let them know the situation.” Jason picked up the coffee carafe Lorna set on the counter and refilled his cup. “Besides, I’d kinda like the company tonight.”
“I’ll take you up on the offer,” André said with a grin before going back to his soup.
Jason motioned Lorna over. “You haven’t given me a check for the meal yet.”
“Not going to,” she said with a pointed look. “Being hospitable in an emergency doesn’t cost anything.” She sauntered off to the kitchen, yelling at Pete. “You’d best get to bed, old man. You’ll have customers in the morning and I’m not doing the early shift after staying up all night.”
Jason and André exchanged knowing expressions. The café owner might be a bossy woman who knew more about what was going on in town than the local newspaper, but she had the softest heart around.
Once André was finished, they moved the county road plow to the side of the sheriff’s office, the hurricane-force gusts of wind nearly knocking them over as they hurried inside.
“You’re going to need at least one extra blanket,” Jason said, grabbing two clean wool ones out of the stash in the storage room back behind the three cells used mostly to hold drunk and disorderly suspects. Anyone committing a more serious crime was held over at the big jail beneath the county courthouse.
“Just so it isn’t one thrown up on, I’m pretty good.” André grinned as he took the blankets.
“Not a problem. My mom and the Baptist Ladies group are in charge of all the linen in the jail. Bobby convinced them to do it as a charitable act and saves the sheriff’s department a hell of a lot of money.”
“Tell your mom and her ladies I truly appreciate it tonight.”
“Not a problem. Like I said, I’ll appreciate the company. Besides, if I get an emergency call, you can take me out,” Jason said as he sat at his desk and pulled out his phone.
André nodded, heading into the first empty cell. “Well, let’s just hope nothing bad happens tonight.”