I lay there in the loft bed, twisting with impossible want, wanting to stay and leave, wanting to embrace this man beside me and run as far away from him as I could.
Finally, I flopped to the other side of the bed, to the cold side of the pillow, and faced him.
My eyes were squeezed shut, and the bed jostled. He was moving too, but he didn’t touch me. No, I felt nothing but his gaze. My eyes were closed, my body still, and yet I knew he was watching me. I could feel it. I didn’t move. I didn’t open my eyes. If I opened them, my lips would be his and all would be lost. I needed this job. I couldn’t do this.
I lay there as seconds joined into minutes and became hours strung together into whole years. And, once nothing less than a century had rolled on past, I opened my eyes.
His face was inches from mine, his eyes on me. He had never stopped looking.
What happened next was what had always been going to happen next, what was inevitable from the first moment we laid eyes on each other. Our lips joined once more, our hands too. Our clothes slid off, and in the dark, warm, cedar loft, we became one.
Chapter Eight
I awoke cold. The bed beside me was empty. Brock. Had last night been a dream?
I lifted the covers and gasped. I wasn’t wearing any clothes. No, last night had been no dream. Closing my eyes, I inhaled his still-lingering cedar scent.
Last night may not have been a dream, but it had been as good as one. I lay there, memories sliding in one after the other, and remembered it, feeling it once more. It had been so natural, so seamless. Brock and I—there was no denying it—we worked.
And now?
I turned to look at his empty spot on the bed. Now things would go back to how they had been. So I’d had one drunken night of fun, one slight bout of unprofessional conduct. No one needed to know. No one would know. I had a job to do. Brock had said it himself: this couldn’t work.
I slid into my clothes and then made my way down the ladder, nostalgia swirling through me on the final rung. If I could have told myself just what I was climbing the ladder to, would I have stopped? Should I have?
Brock wasn’t in the cabin. I put on my coat, then my boots, and grabbed my bakery bag.
I opened the door to see his feet poking out from under my car.
“Brock?”
He slid out and gave me a strained smile.
“Hey.”
“Hey… What’s up?”
“Ah, your car. It’s…I don’t know what to make of it.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. The fuel pump’s somehow worked its way loose, and I can’t figure out where or how you even continued on without it. Your car can’t start without it.”
“Oh, yeah, that is weird.”
I stuck my hands in my pockets, feeling the offending fuel pump in my left one and wondering what exactly I was supposed to do now.
“Yeah. I can tow you into town later. There’s a good garage I know, East Street Garage.”
My face was reddening by the minute. This just kept getting worse and worse.
“Thanks,” I said, “but...my ex works there. If you could tow me anywhere else?”
“Well, not in Nederland, but...how about we have breakfast and discuss it then?”
I shook my head.
“I have stuff I need to do today. Would you be able to take me now?”
His face fell, but he nodded and headed past me into the cabin.
“Yeah. Yeah, of course.”
I didn’t move, just stood staring at my car, gripping the fuel pump in my pocket. Should I try putting it back in? Before I could decide, the door behind me was shutting and Brock was hurrying past me.
A few steps away from the cars, Brock stopped.
“Actually, would going for a forest swim be crazy?”
He had addressed the question to the cars, but he turned to me to see my response.
My gaze fell.
“Brock…” I said softly.
He strode up to me and took my hands.
“Please, Alexa. It’ll be quick and then you can go. I promise.”
His voice was coaxing, but my inner voice was adamant. I had to leave now.
“Please. It’s just a few minutes away,” Brock said, pulling me toward the back of the cabin.
As my mouth prepared to say “no,” my feet followed him, so into the forest we went. Every step I took, the further my “no” burrowed down my throat until there was only me, my hand in Brock’s, and the beautiful, beautiful forest. Oh, how breathtaking it was! Morning dew glistened on every leaf and twig, while a gentle breeze ruffled them. As we made our way through it, there was the soft symphony of the forest: the crackling of leaves, the birds and squirrels chattering in squeaks only they understood, our own gentle footsteps.