Cheri sat straight up in the bed and realized it wasn’t her bed. Sirens whined relentlessly outdoors as harsh wind pushed against the windows. She felt a stirring beside her, and he eyes widened as her hazy mind tried to recall where she was.
Thomas leaned over his side of the bed. Through the low light creeping in the windows, all she could see was the big, broad plane of his muscled back, like that of an Olympian ready to hurl a discus out into the playing field. He fished under the bed and finally pulled out a handheld, battery-operated radio and turned it on.
“I thought these storms were supposed to come in off the coast, with just a little rain,” she said as he tuned in to the weather channel.
“Well, things change,” he said dryly.
“They do,” she said, reflecting on past few weeks, “just like that.” She snapped her fingers for emphasis while Thomas got up from the bed.
“Be right back,” he said. “I need water. Want some?”
“Sure. Thanks.”
As soon as he left the room, Cheri took the opportunity to dash off to the bathroom and freshen up. She washed her face, but since she’d left her purse downstairs she had to make do with his toiletries. She borrowed his brush, then removed her hair from it. She rinsed her mouth with his mouthwash before scurrying back to bed.
Thomas returned with a tray of grapes and two glasses of water.
She sat up and took the tray. “Yum.”
“Have you been listening?” he asked.
“No,” she replied a little guiltily.
He climbed into bed, and she handed him a glass of water. The room was shaded with sparse light, just enough for her to catch the expression on his face; one that indicated some sort of heartsickness she couldn’t quite interpret.
“I don’t think you’ll have work,” he said. “I’m pretty sure the power’s knocked out in this whole part of town.”
“How do you have power then?” she asked. “I just flipped the switch in the bathroom, and it’s working fine.”
“Generator,” he said, sounding pleased with himself. “Always be prepared.”
“Wow. You’re quite the Boy Scout,” she teased. Somehow, there was a little too much spice in Thomas to allow that, but he did seem to live by their motto. “About work, I’ll call before I go in in the morning, just to be sure,” she said, savoring the grape he fed her.
“It is morning, baby doll.”
“Oh,” she said, blushing a bit when she realized she had accepted his offer of a sleepover after all.
He encouraged her to sip her water before he took it out of her hand. His hand was chilly from touching the cold water glass. It snaked her form, exciting her, making her flinch until it warmed from contact with her.
“I must remember to always bring ice to bed,” he murmured. “That was hot.”
As they lay in bed, rehydrating and feasting on grapes, an announcement came over Thomas’s radio: “We’re experiencing a temporary state of emergency. Please avoid all road travel until rainwater has drained off.” The city’s ancient sewer system often experienced flooding during heavy rain, and these were torrential, the tail end of the hurricanes that had tormented the coast.
“Seriously?” Cheri anxiously glanced at the window.
“Seriously,” he said. “The mayor has issued a citywide order for everyone to stay put.”
She watched Thomas, who was completely comfortable in his own bed. Suddenly, Cheri experienced an awful, uncomfortable silence. For some reason, his former warning that she should not get involved with him rang in her head. She thought back on the night they’d shared together, all that romance, tenderness, and passion, and she determined that there was nothing more to it than one thing leading to another. She’d never expected an extended invitation, and she suddenly felt the need to collect herself at the break of dawn so she could make her way back home. In good weather it wasn’t that much of a walk, and she was sure she could make it on foot.
“What’s up?” he asked, wrapping her in his arms.
“Well, this is really unexpected. I’m sure it’s not as bad as they’re making it out to be. I can probably get home.”
Laughter rumbled in his chest. “You should stay.”
“I don’t wanna put you on the spot,” she countered.
“Nonsense.”
His short responses didn’t assure her that she was welcome for the day or even a weekend, so she answered, “It’s just kind of…embarrassing.”
“What is? Needing a place to hole up for a day or two in a freaking hurricane? What’s your hurry, anyway? Do you have a person or a pet who needs you?” he asked easily.
“I’m just saying… Well, you know…” she stuttered awkwardly.
“Look,” he said, “I’m fine with it if you are. No strings here, Cheri. Hell, it’d be nice to have a couple extra hands around here, but if you’re uncomfortable…”
She released a loud, boisterous laugh, some much-needed comic relief. Maybe the standoffish cowboy felon doesn’t need to be alone as much as he’s been saying. “And couple extra hands, huh?”
“Yeah, this house is a work in progress,” he said. “It’ll go a lot quicker if you’re up for helping me.”
“You wanna put me to work?” she said, feigning insult.
There was a palpable shift in the atmosphere as their intense chemistry flowed.
“Lady, I don’t consider you a mere day laborer, although I gotta admit that you’d be really hot in cut-offs, with dry wall and paint splattered all over you.”
“Kinky cowboy,” she said coyly.
“You know it,” he said in his deep, rich voice.
Cheri thought about it for a moment and decided that voice was the perfect voice for early morning conversations in bed, in the dark. “I could kind of get into that,” she said.
“What? Holding drywall in place while I, uh…nail it?” he said with a wink.
“No,” she replied playfully, “the kinky part.”
“Goodness,” he replied seductively. “I was gonna pay you in lunch, but now I might have to figure something else out.”
“Are you suggesting I sleep with the boss?” she replied boldly.
“Or you can be the boss,” he teased.
Cheri smiled, enjoying the playfulness. As much as the sex had electrified her from head to toe, bathed every muscle of body and left her brain awash with pleasure, so did the levity between the two of them. The passion and the laughter were long overdue, the best possible medicine for all her recent worries.
“Lunch? So you cook, huh?” she asked, snuggling against him.
“I do,” he said. “It’s one of my favorite things to do.” Then he added suggestively, “But not my very favorite thing to do.”
“Did you make that fried chicken?”
“Yes,” he said. “I’m pretty good with breasts and thighs.”
“I see.” She smiled. “Well, Mr. Foreman, I guess you’ve got yourself a deal. You give me shelter during a hurricane, and I’ll be your laborer.” Cheri stuck out her hand to shake on it, then rolled to her side and back into him.
Exhausted from hammering out their passion, they let the rain drum them back to sleep, and her dreams were quickly occupied by images of Thomas in nothing but those cowboy boots and a tool belt.