Page 129 of Rough and Rugged

“Love ya, kid, but I’ve got to go. The wife is yelling something and”—he raises his voice, clearly talking to his wife and not me—“she knows I can’t hear her!”

I’m two hours into the electrical, and I’ve managed to replace the line that caused the power outage and have made note of the work I’ll need to do in the next few days. I’ll have the whole place rewired by the end of the week. I flip the breaker, and the whole cabin illuminates.

Grabbing my toolbox, I turn and find Nora sitting on the stool I’d set on my back deck, naked and painting. She’s got her arm resting over the top of her head, a long paintbrush in one hand as she brushes over the canvas I can’t see.

I moved her painting stuff this morning, not wanting to ruin any of it if I had to open a wall or two. This was also my quick assumption that she wouldn’t mind staying at my place for the remainder of her vacation. I hope I’m right.

Two more days. That’s all the time I’ve got with her, and I intend on getting to know her in every way I possibly can. After last night, I want to know her on so much more than a physical level.

I step out the back door of Bob’s cabin and head toward my own, my sights set on her and not wavering until I’m close enough. “Not too often I find nude artists on my back deck.”

“Mmm.” She smiles, peeking over her shoulder, and I watch as she wipes white paint across her chest. “And what have you been up to all morning?” The yellow hazel in her eyes shines bright as her chin rests on her shoulder.

“Fixing the power next door,” I respond, moving a little closer to her, though the light in her eyes dims. I run a hand down her back, tracing her spine, but she turns back to her canvas. “What are you painting?”

“I don’t know yet,” she mumbles. The colors are a swirl of light yellows and orange, mixed with a deep green and brown, with white covering the top. Not anything I’d assume to mix, but it’s beautiful. “So…” She drifts off for a moment, and I step around to her side, wanting a full look at her. “Is the cabin all fixed?”

“Yep,” I respond, my brows dipping at the disappointment on her face. “But I had to break into three walls. I’ll be able to finish rewiring everything by Wednesday.”

“Wednesday.” She avoids my gaze, her eyes scanning the canvas. “I leave on Monday.”

“Right,” I start, unsure how to verbalize my words. I’ve never asked a woman to stay with me before. I’ve never even asked a woman to stay the night. Yet Nora did with no objection. “I was thinking… maybe you’d just stay here until Monday.”

“Stay here?” she repeats, a smile slowly moving into place. “With you?”

I nod, unsure of how she feels about the suggestion. But then her arms are wrapping around my shoulders, squeezing me.

“I assumed you’d want to kick me out.”

“Kick you out?” My brows dip. “Why?”

“Because I thought since I could stay in the cabin now, maybe you were done with me.” She pulls away, her gaze searching mine. “Maybe you’d want to forget it ever happened.”

My hands move around to her cheeks, sweeping the fallen strands away from her face. “Nora, I couldn’t forget last night if I wanted to”—I press my lips against hers quickly—“and I don’t want to.”

She pulls away from me, settling back on the stool and taking a deep breath. Her perky breasts lifting as she places her hands in her lap.

“I’ve already refunded your stay.”

Her head tips to the right. “Why?”

“Felt right.” I shrug, walking past her and the canvas. “I’m going to make us some lunch. You keep…” I wave a finger toward her easel. “Making beauty, and I’ll be right back.”

Chapter Seven

Nora

Iwokeupthismorning to see my easel and a stool set up right outside the four large bedroom windows. Wrapping the bedsheet around my body, I skipped to the sliding door and pulled it open. My rolling cart, filled with my brushes and paints, sat next to the canvas. “He grabbed all my stuff,” I had thought out loud. I’d managed to clean my brushes with the flashlight on my phone. But it was when I couldn’t get the fireplace going on my own that I decided to find shelter at the neighbor’s place.

I’d assumed he’d rush back to the cabin with me and flip a switch or something to get the power going, but instead, he offered me warm, dry clothes and a hot meal. Something I hadn’t even thought about yet. I’d been so concerned with keeping my painting from getting wet, food was an afterthought.

But when I arrived on this man’s doorstep, despite his grumpy exterior, all he did was take care of me. Now I sit on his porch with all of my painting supplies, expected to do nothing but paint while he makes me lunch.

The lights went out, and I stepped right into a damn dream.

The door slides behind him as he steps out holding a plate in each hand, a roast beef sandwich with melted cheese and some fresh vegetables.

A devilish smirk creeps up my lips. I put the paintbrush in a water cup before hopping off the stool and rushing toward him. “Looks great.”

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