Page 55 of Even If the Sky is Falling
“I—I know, and I’m so sorry, but I hear the warning siren blaring. Didn’t you hear it? Your phone probably has the text alert too.” I’m dizzy as I try to process the information Caleb is sputtering at me. Text alert...siren... I start to wonder why I didn’t hear it until now. Was I that in my own head? And my phone should be on the bathroom counter, but I don’t see it. A high-pitched wail is emanating from outside, and Caleb’s own phone is just a fuzzy black rectangle in his slightly less fuzzy hand.
Fuck.
“We need to take shelter. Now.”
Caleb’s booming voice sends my heartbeat racing.
“My basement. We can go down there.”
Caleb makes an affirming noise before moving toward the door.
“Wait! My cat! I don’t know where—”
“I’ve got him.”
My heartbeat eases the slightest bit, but it’s back to thrashing against my rib cage as the siren wails louder and louder. I swipe my glasses from the counter, dart in front of Caleb, then run toward the kitchen, which is where the door to the basement is. I shove on my glasses, throw open the door and run down the darkened steps as fast as I can.
Even as my heartbeat drums in my ears, I can hear the sound of Caleb’s heavy footfalls behind me. I register the slam of the door and Mango’s indignant mewl.
My feet hit the carpet and I smack the light switch on the wall. I do a quick glance at the space, quietly thankful I finally hired a contractor to finish the basement this summer. It’s a small space, only about four hundred square feet, but it’s carpeted with a cozy pull-out couch along the wall, flat-screen TV and a fully stocked small refrigerator. There are worse places to ride out a natural disaster.
When I spin around to check on Mango and Caleb, I promptly freeze. Because standing in front of me is the hottest man I’ve ever seen in my life, his chest heaving as he catches his breath, holding my cat in his massive hands.
A stammer lodges in my throat. He looks like an extra from a TV series about Vikings, except instead of fur pelts, he’s clad in worn jeans, work boots, a flannel and a hoodie. Dude’s gotta be at least six foot three, maybe four? Even though his clothes are loose fitting, it’s clear he’s jacked. I’m one hundred percent certain that if I grabbed his forearm, my fingers wouldn’t touch by a solid few inches. And his thighs...holy Jesus. My eyes go wide for a long second before I remember that it’s rude to stare. I blink and aim my gaze back at his face, but I know without a doubt that I won’t be able to get those thighs—those thighs that resemble tree trunks more than actual human legs—out of my mind anytime soon.
Golden blond hair falls in shaggy waves around his face and a pair of warm hazel green eyes gaze at me, unblinking, like he’s trying his hardest not to let his eyes drop any lower than my face.
Probably because I’m standing in front of him in just a robe. I glance down and notice the belt knot has loosened. The top of the robe is open enough that my cleavage is on full display, and my legs are fully exposed all the way up to my upper thighs. I clutch one hand to my chest, pulling the fabric together. My other hand grips the fabric shrouding my crotch.
“Um...” His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, his gaze glued to me. Then he presses his eyes shut and shakes his head. “Sorry, um... I didn’t mean to barge in on you in the bathroom. I am so, so sorry about that.”
“It’s okay,” I mumble, gripping the fabric even tighter around me. “It was an emergency.”
He nods, eyes still closed. “I swear, I didn’t see anything.”
I didn’t think I could burn any hotter than I did seconds ago when I first took in Caleb’s male model appearance. But as it turns out, I can. My face is currently engulfed in flames at the thought that Caleb glimpsed even the tiniest bit of my naked body. I haven’t shaved my legs in a week. My bikini line? Even longer.
I quickly readjust my robe and tighten the belt, shuddering at the thought that maybe he did actually see me and he’s just saying this to be polite since we’re stuck together for god knows how long. A full-body cringe starts to make its way through me, but I tense up and ward it off. No. I can’t let my brain go there. If I do, I’d die of humiliation, and I need to maintain some level of composure if we’re going to be stuck together in this small space.
“Again, I’m really, very sorry...” His hands shake slightly as he speaks, eyes still pressed shut, and that softens me the slightest bit. Because it shows he’s just as nervous as I am right now.
“Caleb. It’s fine. You don’t have to keep apologizing.”
He finally opens his eyes, the worry lines in his forehead smooth away. His hazel eyes flash relief as he gazes down at me.
He scrunches his lips, like he’s too nervous to smile. Mango squirms slightly in his hold. “Is it okay if I set...”
“Mango. And yeah, you can set him down.”
I take in Caleb’s slow, steady movement as he lowers his tall, broad frame to the ground, places Mango on the carpet and stands back up. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his worn jeans and steps back until he almost hits the wall behind him. All the while he keeps his gaze lowered. When he stops, he hunches his shoulders, instantly shrinking himself by a few inches. And that’s when it hits me: he’s trying to maintain space between us, trying to make himself less physically imposing to me.
I soften even more. The nerves lingering inside of me ease from fiery to tingly. That is so considerate of him to do that. As a smaller woman, I’ve been around my fair share of hulking dudes who either don’t know or don’t care just how disruptive and intimidating their size can be. But even though Caleb is nearly twice my size, I don’t feel uncomfortable in his presence. Yeah, I’m nervous, but not nearly as much as I was a minute ago—and I wasn’t nervous because of how big he is, more because of the awkwardness of this situation combined with how freaked out I was at the sound of the warning siren.
“This, uh, might be a weird question, but...do you want to wear my clothes?” he says after a quiet moment.
“Um, what?” I almost laugh.
He clears his throat, his peaches-and-cream complexion igniting to a fiery hue along his neck and cheeks. “I can give you my hoodie or my flannel to wear. If you—I mean, if you want...if it would make you more comfortable.”
