Page 2 of Autumn be His Wife
By the time he’s bathed and changed into his pajamas, I really might doze off. Giving him complete control to watch whatever cartoon reruns he wants, I leave him with a hamburger and fries.
I rest my eyes for five minutes at most before there’s a knock at the door, almost as loud as the thunder rolling above us.
Lifting a brow at Eli, the best answer he can give me is a shrug of his shoulders.
Not much help there, kid. Then again, it’s not like either of us is expecting company.
Abandoning the couch, I try to figure out who could be on the other side. If I have to guess, one of my neighbors is worried that his stock is feverish because of the rain. Happens all the time.
Unfortunately, I’m unable to drag Eli out into the storm, and I’m not willing to leave him here by himself. So, the best I can do is give them someone else to call. I already have a list of numbers written out on my fridge just for the occasion.
Reaching the door, I prepare my apology beforehand. Pulling the door open, all coherent thoughts vanish the moment I see her.
It’s a woman, but the word feels utterly inadequate. She stands on my porch, drenched and shivering, and my heart gives a single, hard knock against my ribs—a feeling so foreignI almost don’t recognize it. It’s a drumbeat from a life I’d forgotten.
Long, rain-darkened hair frames her face in delicate tendrils, brushing against a pair of wide, sea-storm eyes that are currently blinking up at me, taking in my height. She’s not alone. At her feet is a piece of luggage half the size of her body, a slim case that stops shy of her hip. It’s caked in mud from being dragged, matching the state of her sneakers.
Those eyes hold a mixture of curiosity and surprise. Then, she parts her plump, pink lips, and I feel that forgotten beat again, a dull, heavy rhythm starting up in my chest that drips toward my stomach, leaving it clenched.
“You don’t happen to be Mr. Julian Adams, are you?” She hugs herself, fighting off another shiver from wracking through her body. Her jacket is soaked through, clinging to her shoulders, and a fierce, inexplicable urge to pull her into the warmth of my house surges through me.
I hate, more than I’ve hated anything in a long time, to be the guy to disappoint her. Even more to not be the man she’s looking for.
“Can’t say I am.” I shift to rub the back of my neck, my gaze lifting over her head to the empty, rain-swept road. No car. No taillights fading into the gloom. Nothing.
Damn. She walked here. And now, for reasons I can’t explain, my heart seems to already understand that she can’t just walk away disappointed. Not if I have anything to do with it.
“I don’t think I know anyone with that last name around this part of town. You sure you know where you’re headed?” Gripping the doorframe, I have to cling to it when she lets out a humorless laugh.
“Honestly? No. I’m so lost, it’s not funny.” Her mouth curves, and I see the exhaustion dancing around in her eyes. “Your cabin is the third one I’ve tried.”
I’m struggling to believe two others hadn’t gotten a good look at the beauty and hadn’t tried playing the identity of whoever she’s searching for. For an instant,Iwanted to. Thankfully, I’m a better man to do such a thing.
“I can offer you my phone if you want to try to call him, if that’s any help?” More so, it’ll give her the chance to linger on my property for a little longer before she disappears from my life. Quick enough to make me question if she was real to begin with.
Relief fills her eyes, and she nods. “That would be amazing.”
I shouldn’t let a stranger into my home, especially one who seems to have no explanation for why she’s here in Forest Grove, but the thought of making her stand outside when her teeth are a few seconds shy of chattering doesn’t sit right with me.
Her suitcase thunks against the doorframe as she drags it inside with her, clutching the handle tight enough to make me think she has more than just a few outfits inside. Seems more like her life’s worth is inside.
“Sorry about the mess.” Muttering the words, I look around like I have forgotten what I’m looking for. Phone. Not the toys scattered across the hardwood, or the rumpled blanket that had slid from the couch, hanging on just barely.
The woman lets out a breathy laugh, her eyes training on me more than our surroundings. “I’m the one creating a puddle in your home.”
Right. I should probably get her a towel first. That way, she doesn’t stay soaked. Maybe throw another log in the fire to make sure the house stays heated.
Shoving my fingers through my hair, I swallow down the start of a sigh. Can’t start overthinking everything. Can’t do everything at once. One thing at a time.
Disappearing long enough to grab a towel, I return to find her eyeing Eli with curiosity, and he does the very same as he slowly sinks his teeth back into his burger.
The way her mouth purses and her hand clutches at the front of her jacket, I’m willing to bet she’s hungry, too.
Whoisthis woman?
When she turns her attention back to me, her brows lift at the sight of the towel. When I offer it to her, there’s a hesitation before, slowly, her fingers graze against mine to accept my offering.
Thanking me, she releases her luggage and dries her hair.
