Page 18 of Backed By You
I could drive to my parents’ house. Ma would let me in without question, would probably even have fresh towels and hot coffee ready within minutes. But the thought of their concern, the questions, the inevitable ‘I told you so’ hanging unspoken in the air—I can’t stomach it. Not tonight.
My gaze drifts to Callie’s cabin. Dark. Silent. She’d left at the crack of dawn Monday morning without a word, and she hasn’t been home since. The warm, dry house sits empty, mocking me with its solid walls and waterproof roof.
I can’t.
I shouldn’t…
As another crack of thunder shakes my truck and rain hammers harder against the windows, my resolve begins to crumble.
It’s one night.
No one would know.
I’ll sleep on the couch and set an alarm.
I’ll leave the house exactly as is—no onewill be the wiser.
Decision made, I grab my duffel and make a run for her porch. The stairs are slippery, nearly sending me sprawling as my bad knee buckles slightly.Fuck. I catch myself on the railing, cursing under my breath.
Under the protection of her porch overhang, I dig through my bag for the spare key Duke gave me. The door opens with a creak, and I step into the dark interior of the cabin. It smells like her—floral mixed with fresh linens and honey.
It’s intoxicating.
I breathe easier as I find the switch on the wall, flooding the entryway with warm light. “Breaking and entering. Nice,” I mutter to no one, leaving my muddy boots by the door.
The cabin is eerily quiet without her presence, the constant soundtrack of her god-awful music, or talking to her oversized dog. I stand dripping on her entry rug, suddenly unsure of myself.
This is crossing a line.
And a law or two.
But as water puddles around my feet, practicality wins out over propriety.I’ll clean up after myself, I repeat.She’ll never know I was here.
And I do need to warm up before my knee locks completely.
I step farther inside, navigating toward the bathroom attached to the single bedroom—herbedroom. The bathroom light flickers on, revealing my reflection in the mirror. I look like hell. Three days of stubble, dark circles under my eyes. I strip off my soaked clothes and hang them over the shower rod to dry, then pause.
A shower wasn’t part of the plan, but…
I turn the knob and wait for the hot water to kick in. The water pressure is surprisingly good, and steam quickly fills the small space. Stepping under the spray, the heat penetrates my frozen muscles, bringing painful pins and needles as circulation returns.
There is only one bottle of body wash on the shower ledge. Something with a purple label claiming to be lavender and sea salt. I hesitate for a moment. I’ve already invaded her home, her privacy. What’s some borrowed soap going to hurt at this point?
The scent is decidedly feminine as I work it into a lather. I’m flooded with thoughts of a certain honey-blonde woman, curves, and a supple ass.
By the time I shut off the water, my skin is red and the throbbing in my knee has shifted to a different area of my body.
I reach for a towel from the rack and find myself holding the fluffiest, pinkest monstrosity I’ve ever seen.Of course, she would have pink towels. I shake my head and dry off before wrapping it around my waist, leaving my clothes to continue drying.
I really ought to consider installing laundry for the third cabin.
I exit the bathroom into her bedroom and pause at the threshold. I should head straight for the couch—that was the plan, anyhow—but curiosity gets the better of me as I take in the space that is undeniablyhers.
A quilt in shades of teal and violet covers the neatly made bed, piled with more pillows than any one person could possibly need. Books are stacked on both nightstands; their spines creased from multiple readings. A pair of glasses rests atop one pile, and I’m surprised. I’ve never seen her wear them.
Framed photographs line the dresser. Callie with an older man who shares her smile—her father, I presume. Callie on a mountainside, arms spread wide with Hulk sitting at her feet. Callie with a group of women, all holding wine glasses and laughing.
No younger men in any of the photos.
