Page 50 of Unexpected Company
Garrett leans against the doorframe, his arms folded and the sleeves of his flannel shirt rolled up.
“What are you doing there, trouble?” he asks, tipping his head to the side.
“Stretching. Getting ready.” I wiggle my butt and make a show of pressing up higher onto my toes. I have absolutely no idea if I’m doing this right, but I stick with it, anyway. Yoga, like cooking, is something I am adding to the ‘fake it till you make it’ pile.
Garrett laughs. “You think a few stretches are going to help you outrun me?”
I drop to my knees – there is nothing practised about the way I slump down – spinning around so I’m facing him. Despite my earlier position, I can confidently say, when Garrett shoots me a sly grin, that all my blooddid notrun to my head, choosing instead to settle south of my body.
Stretching my legs in front of me, I grab the tips of my socked toes and lean forward.
“I don’t need to outrun you. Iwantto get caught, but –” I beam at him. “I’m going to make you work for it.”
My stretching done, I jump to my feet in one swift move, bound forward and wrap my arms around Garrett’s neck. He uncrosses his arms and grabs my hips.
“Lunch sorted?” I ask. I did offer to help – I love the way he takes care of me, but I’m not a total freeloader – but Garrett claimed I was far too distracting and chaotic in the kitchen, so I left him to it.
“It is. Gammon’s in the pot. It’ll cook very –” He slides a hand under my shirt and toys with the waistband of my leggings. “Very.” His big, warm hand dips beneath the fabric until he’s kneading the globe of my ass. “Slowly.”
“Perfect,” I rasp, nuzzling the side of his face with my own, loving the rasp of his beard scratching the freshly shaved skin of my cheek.
Pushing out of Garrett’s hold, I say, “I’m going to get ready. I’ll see you later, Mr Lumberjack.” With a quick kiss, I spin on my heels and saunter into the bedroom to prepare to give Garrett the sexiest Christmas present he’s ever received.
“Where are you, troublemaker?” Garrett’s voice booms through the trees. A bird flutters overhead, darting between the branches of the tall pines surrounding me. I sneak around a thick trunk and lean my head back, looking to the side to see if I can spot him.
My chest rises and falls in quick succession, my lungs working overtime to keep up with the exertion of running over uneven ground in the freezing cold.
“You can’t hide for long. I will find you.” His voice is louder, closer now than it’s been in the past ten minutes. Despite the chill in the air, I’m warm. A mixture of adrenalin, arousal and a spot of fear, pooling together to keep my temperature rising.
A branch snaps to my right and I bolt, heading for a dense brush of shrubs further from the cottage. My foot catches on a log hidden beneath the mushy snow and it’s enough to slow me down, but I don’t fall. Straightening up, I chance a glance behind me and glimpse Garrett, dressed in his green flannel and a red wooly hat. He’s taking large steps, his posture both calm and menacing at the same time. He’s a predator – one that is confident their prey is already in their trap.
“Fuck,” I mutter, my head swivelling from left to right, seeking a place to hide. It’s gloomy, this deep in the woods, very little sunlight breaks through the canopy, but not dark enough to make it treacherous. The gloom adds to the overall feeling – my mind picking moments to forget that I’m not really being hunted, and sending fresh waves of fear through me.
Garrett insisted we have a safe word, and though I am not intending to use it, I appreciate his concern. Iama little afraid of the woods and what – other than the hunky man chasing me – I could encounter out here.
Dashing to my right, heading back towards the cottage, I get onto my knees, the cold seeping into my leggings, and crawlbetween an evergreen bush and some other spindly plants and take a moment to catch my breath and listen for movement.
Silence.
I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not. Either Garrett is lying in wait, or he’s changed direction and headed away from me.
I count to ten in my head, and when I hear no movement or anything I’d count as a human noise, I crawl out, stand and brush the sludge from my knees. My coat is zipped up, and I unzip it, feeling over hot in my layers.
There’s an opening ahead, a part of the path that leads from the cottage to the village, and on the other side another thick patch of pines. Behind that is the back of the house and the decking area.
I press forward, moving away from the bushes, and come to a screeching halt when Garrett steps around the evergreen and directly into my path.
“Got you, little deer,” he says, his hand shooting out to grab my coat. He gets a grip on the fabric and I spin, shrugging my arm out and shaking the coat off as quickly as I can. “Sneaky, shit,” he grumbles when I bolt away, leaving him holding my coat. “I’m going to fuck you so hard when I get my hands on you,” he shouts, his footsteps picking up speed behind me.
I’m winded. My legs are aching and there’s a thin sheen of sweat between my skin and my white henley, but I’m not giving in. If Garrett wants this – wants me – he’s going to have to catch me. For real. Supernova never quits, and he sure isn’t starting now.
That thought has just left my mind when a hard body crashes into my back, sending me to the ground, my knees and hands landing in the snow. Before I can react, a strong arm wraps around my stomach and hauls me up.
Garrett’s lips graze a line of fire from my neck to my ear while he holds me hostage against his broad chest.
“Looks like I caught myself a treat,” he says, his words and his warm breath sending a shiver down my spine. Fuck, he’s good at the role play part of this.
“Let me go,” I yell, playing along and wiggling against him.
