Page 15 of Fear of Flames
Chapter
Seven
Despite the cabin being in the middle of nowhere, with the generator running and the fire blazing, the interior was warm and welcoming. The appliances weren’t modern, nor were they archaic. Michelle found cans of vegetables, potatoes, and broth. In no time, she had a vegetable stew simmering, a fresh pot of coffee brewing, and she even found a pantry with vacuum-sealed perishables. She put a few slices of homemade bread in the oven, filling the cabin with the delicious aroma.
If it wasn’t obvious by Michelle’s curvy physique, next to creating heart-pounding stories, cooking and eating were some of her favorite activities.
When Fletch emerged from the bedroom, her pulse quickened as she scanned from his head to his toes. Damp dark hair fell to his shoulders. His stubble was still present beneath his cheeks still pink from the earlier cold. He must be closer in size to the cabin’s owner. Fletch donned a gray t-shirt, his long legs were covered with light-gray sweatpants, and his feet covered by wool socks.
“Something smells amazing.”
“Not eating for a while makes everything smell delicious.”
Fletch made his way to the coffee pot and poured a cup. When he turned, he did the same scan Michelle had just done. Self-consciously, she imagined her wavy hair piled on her head and small unruly curls dangling near her cheeks, her blue eyes faded into no-man’s-land without makeup, and her curves accentuated by the tight activewear pants. And yet judging by his expression, Fletch wasn’t seeing what was in her mind’s eye.
His cheeks rose and his lips curled. “I’m a selfish bastard.”
“Why is that?”
“I asked you to forget me, but I don’t want that to happen. I know I won’t be able to forget you.”
His words were like magnets, dragging her closer.
When she was only a few inches away, Michelle looked up. “Where did you get your tattoo, the one on your back?”
Fletch stiffened as if she’d asked for his deepest, darkest secret. “Something I got one drunken night in the service.”
“Service? Army? Navy? Marines?”
“Service.” He took a step away.
Michelle reached for his hand. “My dad has the same tattoo.” She swallowed. “Had. He told me the same story only he said while in the academy.”
With his jaw clenched, Fletch nodded.
Michelle’s brow furrowed. “Don’t you think that’s odd that you and my father would have the same tattoo?”
“How many unique tattoos are there? I mean, you walk into a shop and point. ‘I want that.’” He lifted the lid from the pot of soup. “Damn, this is better than straight from the can.”
“It’s straight from a few cans and some added spices I found.”
After Fletch took a spoonful of the broth, Michelle asked, “Are you really going to get me home and disappear without any information about what’s happening? Will I be safe?” She wondered if these people would follow her back to her home.
“You weren’t supposed to be in Iron Falls. My assignment, self-imposed as it may be, is to get you safely home. I suggest we work on some alibis. If we can come up with a story that includes you not visiting Denny this weekend, you can act as if none of this happened.”
“Self-imposed?”
“You ask too many questions,” Fletch said as he began opening cupboards and removing bowls. Next, he opened the oven and retrieved the warm bread. “Shall we eat?”
“Your assignment wasn’t to save me?”
He placed the bowls on the small table.
“Not officially,” she said for clarification.
His dark stare lingered on her as they sat. Without a word, he reached for his spoon and stirred the vegetable soup. Steam rippled from the warm broth.
“Are you Secret Service or something?” she asked. “I mean you said you don’t exist.”
