Chapter Five

Jake

Damn, never in a million years would I have imagined Calla Fanning would be in my rather humble abode. It was one of those one in a million chance happenings. It was surreal to see her sitting on my couch, in my little cabin in the middle of nowhere.

She looked a little different than I remembered, but time tended to do that. Her red hair was cut in a sleek short style that was sexy as hell. Her green eyes had captivated me from the moment I saw her, and they still did. They seemed even more vivid with her pale, white skin. The woman had captivated my attention then and she had it again now.

I watched as she furiously scribbled in the notebook. Her shoulders were hunched over and she was completely lost in her own world. I had no idea what she was writing, but I loved watching her do it. Hell, I would love watching her watch paint dry. The woman beguiled me. She had from the very moment I laid eyes on her.

How long ago had it been? Ten, twelve years at least, I surmised. I remembered I had been home on my first leave after I graduated basic training.

“What are you doing?” I asked for the second time, my first attempt completely ignored. I wasn’t going to be ignored again.

“Writing,” she mumbled, not bothering to look away from the paper.

I watched her a bit longer before realizing that was all I was going to get out of her. I grabbed the coffee pot and carried it back to the kitchen, pouring two cups.

“Black okay?” I asked.

She didn’t answer.

“Black it is,” I said, setting the cup of steaming coffee on the small coffee table in front of her.

She flipped the page of the notebook with such force she nearly tore it. I sat down on the other end of the couch, watching her fill the page with her scrawls. In the dim light, I couldn’t make out what the words were. I probably wouldn’t be able to read it in full light judging by what looked like scribbling scattered across the page. I wondered if it was some kind of shorthand.

“Warm enough?” I asked, knowing I was disturbing her, and kind of enjoying it.

She had disturbed my peaceful night by going and getting herself lost. I didn’t see why she should get to sit there and zone out.

“Mh-hmm,” she replied, without stopping her writing or lifting her head.

The woodstove was really cranking out the heat. The red fir wood was crackling, a sound I loved. For the second time in the past thirty minutes, I thought about how long this night would be. I was going to need a little something to take the edge off.

Heading back into the kitchen, I opened the cupboard where I kept an assortment of alcohol. I reached for the bottle of whiskey and poured a healthy amount into my coffee. I took a sip to test the stoutness and found her staring at me.

I raised an eyebrow, silently questioning her.

She held up her cup. The gesture’s meaning was clear.

I grinned and quickly obliged. I added about a shot’s worth, not nearly as much as mine. She could use a little heating from the inside out I reasoned.

“Didn’t think you would be a fan of the mountain version of a hot toddy,” I quipped.

“I’m a little chilly and I happen to like whiskey.”

“Here,” I moved to the back of the couch and pulled the blanket off. “Wrap up in that. I’d hate for you to get sick on my watch.”

“Thanks,” she said, wrapping the blanket over her legs before settling back and writing.

I watched her and envied the passion I could see on her face. This was something she loved. I could see that. I had once known that kind of passion for life, for work. It had been a long time since I had felt that way about anything. The military had been all-encompassing. I lived it, breathed and loved it until one day, I woke up and didn’t anymore. Just like that, the thing I loved most in the world no longer appealed to me. That was the day I knew it was time to retire. It had been life-altering. Everything I had known was gone. It was definitely an adjustment.

“You don’t look or act like a woman who was lost in the woods all day,” I blurted out.

She stopped writing and finally looked at me. “How should I look?”

I shrugged a shoulder, not really knowing the answer. “I don’t know, cold, scared, traumatized?”

A little giggle escaped her lips and punched me right in the gut. The sound had been unexpected, but welcomed.

“I’m not that kind of a girl I suppose. I’m a little cold, but it wasn’t that bad. I don’t see any point in going into hysterics. Doesn’t solve anything or help the situation. I’m choosing to trust I’m safe now and that’s that.”

“I guess we could have waited until tomorrow to find you,” I teased.

“I didn’t say I enjoyed it, and I definitely didn’t want to spend the night out there, but I knew someone would find me.”

Slowly I nodded. “Must be nice to have that much faith.”

She didn’t answer me, her focus back on the notebook. She flipped to a clean page and began furiously writing once again.

Obviously, she didn’t want me bugging her. I should be thankful I didn’t have to entertain her, I supposed. I squatted down to pet Casper. The dog yawned and stretched, his paw catching on something. I reached down to see what was wrapped around his leg and nearly choked when I pulled off a wet pair of black satin panties.

I looked behind me and realized she was not wearing any panties. I had a feeling she was also braless. The thought had my dick springing to attention. I quickly shoved the scrap of fabric back under the coat and left the room.

My hand rubbed my dick, trying to make it relax. I didn’t want to be sporting wood. That would freak her out. I tugged on my heavy cock, groaning with pleasure, but not willing to rub one out with the threat of the woman in the other room walking in at a very inopportune moment. It would have to wait until I was truly alone.

Once I had quieted the erection, I walked to the small closet in the room and pulled out an extra blanket and the only spare pillow I had and headed back to the living room.

“Here.” My voice was strained. I blamed the battle of the erection. All I could think about was the panties on the floor and what that meant.

I groaned as the erection won the battle and reared up in victory. I tossed the bedding on the couch next to her and went back to face the woodstove, taking deep breaths in and out. Counting to ten in my head as I tried to return everything to normal.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Fine,” I said, turning to face her again.

She closed the notebook, stuck the pen in the spiral wiring and set the book beside her. She sipped the coffee. I waited for her to make a face indicating it was too strong. She didn’t. Instead, she took another long drink. I felt like a caged animal and found myself pacing the room, her eyes following me as I did. It was unnerving. I knew what I was thinking when I watched her, was she thinking the same? Was she remembering our one night together?

“Oh, I can feel that all the way to my tippy toes,” she purred, her throat working as she drank the spiked coffee.

I spun around again, facing away from her as my dick jumped. “That’s the goal,” I managed to croak out.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Maybe the cold was too much for you?”

I guffawed at the ridiculous suggestion.

“The cold has nothing to do with it.”

“Oh.”

“It’s going to be a long night. Two blankets should be enough for you. The stove keeps the place pretty warm. I’ll make sure to keep it going all night,” I told her, needing to fill the dead air.

“Oh, are you going to bed?” she asked.

I shrugged, “Soon enough.”

“I don’t suppose I could make that soup you mentioned earlier?”

“Oh, shit. Sorry, I forgot,” I mumbled.

“No worries. I can make it. You don’t need to go out of your way for me. I know I’m intruding.”

“I got it. I’ll warm it up on the stove,” I said, thankful for the distraction.

I quickly pulled out a pot and dumped a couple cans of soup that promised to be hearty and beefy. I hoped so, because I realized I was famished and Calla looked like she could eat. I didn’t begrudge her that fact. It was actually a turn on.

“Can I help?” she asked.

“No. Nothing to do but wait,” I said removing the coffee pot and refilling my cup.

When I gestured with the pot to ask if she wanted more, she held up a hand, declining the offer. I added a little more whiskey to my cup and waited for the soup to heat.

“So, what is it you were writing?” I asked, trying to make small talk.

She shrugged a shoulder. “Just getting some thoughts down. I’m a writer. When I see something that inspires me, I have to take advantage of it. No matter how many times I say I’ll write it when I have the time, I never do. The mood is lost, and writer’s block is fully in place.”

I nodded, pretending to understand. I didn’t get exactly what she was saying, but I did understand that desire to get shit done when the mood struck.

The soup heated quickly on the hot woodstove. Deciding it was warm enough, I dished up two bowls.

“Want a sandwich to go with it?” I asked, realizing the soup was probably not enough to replace the calories she had spent being in the cold all day.

“We’ll see how I feel after I eat this. I am really hungry, but that looks very filling.”

I delivered the bowl to the kitchen table and sat down. She followed suit. It was a little strange to be sharing a meal with a woman who I had only known for about twelve hours. Eleven of those twelve hours had involved her naked and my dick seated deep inside her.

“How do you usually pass the time?” she asked. “I don’t see a television.”

“I’m not much of a TV kind of guy. I have a laptop I use on occasion, but service up here isn’t exactly great. I like not being connected. I was too connected for too long,” I explained, knowing she wouldn’t understand.

Few people did. People who lived and thrived in the modern world couldn’t imagine a life without constant stimulation from technology. I had my fill and was over it.

“Don’t you get lonely?”

“No. I have Casper. I can go into town when I need to chat, but that isn’t all that often. I prefer the solitude,” I told her. She didn’t need to know why I was hiding up here.

That seemed to appease her for now. I focused on my bowl of soup. I could feel her watching me. Whenever I looked up to meet her eyes, she quickly looked away. Was she thinking about that night? Or was she afraid of me? Of being alone with me so far away from civilization and help.

I gave myself a mental shake. She didn’t know my past. She had no real reason to fear me I reminded myself.