Chapter 3

Xavier

Saturday 10.12am

I know the second we arrive back at the garage the power is out.

Not only that but the rain has started up again, letting me know the weather isn’t settling as predicted.

I jump out of my truck and with Carrie still behind the wheel manage to get her Mazda inside.

She climbs out, stumbling a little, and immediately notices how dark the workshop is. Her brow knits together. “Oh. That’s not good.”

Since she’s stating the obvious, I walk to the phone and pick up the receiver, when I hear nothing but the rain pattering overhead, I know the phone lines are down too.

My heart is speeding as I search around for my cell phone and breathe a sigh of relief I still have coverage.

She’s looking around the workshop, and it’s impossible not to notice she’s shivering.

What she needs is a hot shower and a drink. When my mind starts reeling with images of slowly stripping off her wet clothes and joining her in the shower, I have to mentally slap myself.

She blows out a breath and looks in my direction. To avoid her catching me ogling her like a horny teenager, I hold up my cell.

“This is still working. I have enough charge for you to make a few calls.”

I think she’s going to thank me, but she presses a hand to her head. “Oh, um, I don’t feel so good,” she mutters.

I reach her a fraction of a second before her legs fold. With a grunt, I catch her and hug her towards me.

With her body snug against mine, my thoughts tangle until the only thing I can think about is making sure she’s okay.

Ignoring all protocol, all instructions, I heft her up the stairs to my apartment.

She’s not exactly a lightweight, but I’ve trained for emergency rescue so I make it inside and get her on my sofa.

My training kicks in, and I do what I should have done the second I knew she’d been in an accident.

I take her pulse, lay a hand on her forehead and gently open her eyes. When I’m fairly certain she’s showing symptoms of shock, I check through my contacts on my cell.

I dial and take a seat at Carrie’s feet while I wait for the phone to be picked up. “Reid? You injured?” Carlos answers.

I glance at Carrie. “Not me. A woman hit a tree at about twenty miles per hour. Airbag deployed, no vomiting, no headaches or confusion as far as I can tell, but her skin is clammy, her pupils are dilated and she just fainted.”

He’s silent for a moment. “How long ago was the accident?”

I check my watch. “An hour ago. She walked here and seems lucid.”

“If she walked there she’s probably not injured. Could be delayed shock. Keep her warm, lie her on her side, and keep a close eye on her. If she starts to complain about neck pain get her to an ER. A low-speed collision could mean trauma to her cervical spine.”

“Roger that.”

He barks a laugh and I end the call feeling marginally convinced she’s going to be okay.

I leave my phone on the old tin chest that doubles as a coffee table and kneel in front of her, so I can carefully turn her on her side.

Her eyelids flutter and she groans but stays out of it as I position her. I take a second to look her over, trying to fool myself I’m doing it for all the right reasons.

But when I’m no longer checking for any obvious signs of trauma, and my eyes have strayed to her full lips and her cleavage I quit trying to fool myself I’m not attracted to her and go looking for a blanket.

I push aside a mountain of junk Gerald left behind and when I don’t find anything suitable, grab the quilt off my bed.

I check her breathing is steady, and take her pulse one more time before I lay the quilt on her.

Rather than keep staring at her like some creeper, I leave her and head back downstairs.

The rain is still thundering on the roof, and the bucket is almost half full, so I toss out the water and set it back under the drip.

At some point, I’ll need to locate it, but that and everything else I was doing to stay busy will have to wait.

My cell has a half battery, but I need to conserve it since I have no idea when the power will come back on.

For the first time since arriving here, I wonder if I should lock the door.

A surge of protectiveness I don’t understand and shouldn’t feel is rising completely unwelcome and completely pointless.

I just need to help her and get her out of here. Her presence is a problem. The kind of problem that could wreck this operation.

I should call Julie. I should let her know someone turned up.

But when I think of the cute blonde, hurt, lying on my sofa upstairs, I’m a little too concerned about her to worry about the consequences.

Until I know Carrie is okay, all non-essential phone calls will have to wait.

I promise myself the second she’s well, I’ll find a way to get her out of here and back to where she was heading.

The blackout won’t last long. The power will be back on and I can use a jack to check out her engine now.

Convinced I’m doing the right thing by holding off telling Julie, I go set up my jack, and busy myself with something that doesn’t require me to be in the same room as her.

***

Carrie

2.14pm Saturday

I’m groggy and disorientated when I pry my eyes open. I groan as I pull myself to sitting, and a patchwork quilt slips off me as I rub at my eyes.

I’m surrounded by distinctly masculine scents. Diesel, sandalwood, pine, and solvents.

What happened? One minute I was feeling woozy, the next I’m dreaming that Myles carried me up a flight of stairs.

It takes me a few seconds to realize where I am and how I got here.

I groan even louder as I think about how much more of an inconvenience I’ve been.

It’s worse than embarrassing I fainted but I’m now in Xavier’s home.

I should have stopped to eat something. I thought a donut was enough, but maybe that and the shock of the accident is why I fainted?

Since he’s nowhere in sight, I take the opportunity to look around.

The apartment is just one room, exposed beams, and a bedroom is partitioned off by a curtain.

Aside from the worn leather sofa I’m lying on, there’s hardly any furnishings. Just a collection of mismatched items that look like they belong in a junkyard.

I ease off the sofa and walk across the scuffed wooden floor. The old Formica table is covered with all kinds of junk, and as I get closer I cringe.

There must be at least a dozen Playboys along with an assortment of car manuals and alarmingly, gun manuals.

Rather than stay up here and find out he’s more of a danger to me than I first thought, I decide to go find him.

Since there are two doors, and I have no idea which one leads downstairs, I reach for the door handle on the closest one.

I don’t bother to open it when I hear the sound of water running.

Heat rushes to my cheeks as I hastily step back from what must be the bathroom door.

He’s taking a shower. My brow crinkles as I back away.

As if he knew I was outside, he steps out in a cloud of steam, wearing nothing but a towel.

All the air leaves my lungs as I take a step back. He’s gorgeous. Positively drool-worthy. He looks like he’s been carved out of granite.

Feeling worse than awkward, I hastily step back until my hip collides with the sofa.

He approaches, a wary expression on his face as he holds up a fisted wad of clothing. “You have a fuel leak. I had to drain your tank.”

When I don’t answer, he holds up what I now see are his overalls. “I need to air these out until I can wash them.”

I gulp and can’t seem to find anything appropriate to say. I always thought Myles was handsome, and that I wasn’t really affected by good looking men.

And right up until now I haven’t been. But I’m frozen in place, staring at him, completely unable to look away.

I want to lick the water off his chest, I want him to lick water off my chest. I want to run my fingers down his abs and feel the soft downy hair poking out of the top of his towel.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I try to swallow but my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth. My heart is thrashing wildly and I’m starting to sweat.

I’m beginning to wonder if I’m having a mental breakdown when he walks across the room, bringing the scent of diesel and soap towards me.

He snaps his fingers in front of my face. “Are you okay? Are you in pain?”

A strangled noise comes out as my mouth finally decides to cooperate. “Not in pain,” I whisper.

He frowns at me and raises his overalls again. “I need to get these out of here before we get high on the fumes.”

He starts to move away but seems to think better of it. “Maybe you should sit down. Give me a sec, I’ll get you something to eat and drink.”

I nod weakly and collapse on the sofa, trying not to stare as he opens a door and tosses his overalls out.

He spins on his heel and heads back to the bedroom partitioned off by a flimsy curtain.

Xavier seems perfectly comfortable walking around in nothing but a towel. Either he’s used to women in his apartment, or he’s completely oblivious to his appeal.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I crane my neck so I can see through the crack in the curtain.

All my hairs stand on end as I catch sight of him tugging on a pair of boxers over his ass.

My entire body starts to tingle, lust surging through me, uncontrollably, so blatantly, I’m sure I’m having an out of body experience.

Maybe I have a head injury? Maybe the fumes of the garage are messing with my hormones. Something is to blame for this incessant lust rampaging through me.

I pull my eyes away from his bedroom and turn to look at the messy apartment instead.

To stop myself from lusting over him, I try to find evidence he’s probably an asshole and look at the stack of magazines on the table.

When that doesn’t work, and I’m still picturing him in the shower and me with him, I press my palms to my eyes, think about how annoyed Tina is going to be and hope that will help.

His voice comes like a growl a foot away from me as he hands me a water bottle and a power bar. I jerk my head up and find him frowning down at me. “I’ve fixed your fuel leak.”

I sit up a little straighter and tear the bar open. At least that means I can get out of here and quit fantasizing about a surly mechanic. “Oh, that’s great. You didn’t need power then?” I say between bites.

He shakes his head and takes a seat on the only other seat, a rickety chair. “No. But the job is half-finished. The epoxy needs time to set.”

From the way his brow is furrowed, he’s not pleased. “How long does it take?”

His frown deepens. “In this weather, 72 hours.”

Cold trickles down my spine. “Three days? I have to wait three days?”

He shrugs lightly. “Maybe not. You can’t drive out of here, but you can be towed soon as the floodwaters recede.”

I slump back on the sofa, staring at him sitting there in his fitted black t-shirt and torn jeans. “Guess you’re stuck with me then.”

The corner of his lip lifts in a close approximation of a smile. “Guess so.”

I try to smile but fail as he runs a hand through his still-wet hair. “I have a generator. But I’d rather not get it going until it gets dark.”

Dark. Here. With him. This mechanic I’m drooling over.

The man who just fixed my car.

A thought jolts me. “How much are you charging me? I mean, I don’t have cash.”

He rises to his feet and looks completely unperturbed. “We’ll work something out.”

Work it out? How? I can’t use my credit card until the power comes on.

My eyes stay on his broad back as he walks to the kitchenette and starts to open cupboards.

I take a deep breath and try not to think about what he could possibly be alluding to.

Somewhere in the back of mind, the dirty part I compartmentalize as frivolous, there’s a part of me that knows exactly how we can work it out.

***

Xavier

Why’d I say that? Why’d I tell her it would take that long for the resin to set?

I look inside the cupboards for a gas stove and when I pull out a bottle of wine and some candles, I know I’m in dangerous territory.

I may have fixed her fuel tank, but I’m thinking too many thoughts that aren’t going to lead anywhere I can go.

The way she looked at me like she wanted something I know I can give her is precisely the reason Julie told me not to get involved with anyone out here.

But she’s not from around here. She’ll be gone. Maybe not today, but by tomorrow the road could be open again, the tow truck can come get here and she’ll have no reason to stay.

Unless I give her one.

With those luscious lips, and that body, trapped together, I could do all sorts of things to make her want to stay.

When a low grumble comes from my throat, I know I’m about to say or possibly do something really, really, stupid.

She’s sitting on the sofa, lighting up the entire room. Looking like some blonde beacon in the gloomy apartment.

I don’t know what I did to deserve her presence, but when she looks at me through her lashes like she’s thinking the same thing I am, I find myself thanking a God I’m not sure I believe in anymore.

Her voice comes out throaty as she meets my eye. “What’s a girl have to do to get a drink around here?”

I answer immediately. “Ask.”

Her lips curl into a smile. “What’s on offer?”

Shit. Are we even talking about a drink anymore?

“Whatever you want.”

Her eyebrow arches, a teasing smile playing on her perfect lips. “What if I want something you don’t have?”

My stomach tightens as I place my hands on the countertop. The only thing between us right now.

There’s too much riding on this just for a roll in the sack, so I make sure my tone is a little cooler when I shrug. “If you want something a little fancier than a beer, you’ll be out of luck.”

But she doesn’t back down if anything she rises to the challenge. “Maybe beer is just what I want right now?”

With her eyes lock on mine she trails a hand over the countertop and steps around.

I back up a step, and her chin lifts slightly as she notices the steak I left out last night.

“That’s a prime piece of meat. Would you like me to cook it for you?”

Huh? Huh? Whatever this little game is, my cock has decided it's going places my brain knows it shouldn’t.

“Why would you do that?”

She chews her lip way too suggestively for it to be unintentional. She wants this as much as I do.

“Not everyone knows what to do in the kitchen,” she murmurs.

She steps a little closer, just out of reach. “And you do?” I say.

Her nose crinkles as she shrugs. “I’m an Executive Chef. It’s my job to know.”

I fold my arms across my chest as a last-ditch attempt to keep some space between us.

“That why you were in the area?”

She shakes her head too quickly. “My family are up at the resort. We’re having a family reunion.”

I nod slowly, even though her family is the last thing I’m thinking about.

I’m thinking about what those long slender fingers would feel like around my cock.

It’s difficult to keep my tone level when I’m standing so close to her. “Right. I know the place.”

Her smile slips a little. “So, how about you grab me a beer and I’ll cook you your steak?”

I stay where I am and nod at the clock on the wall. “The steak is for dinner. And if you want a beer, it’s in the refrigerator.”

Instead of irritation, a flush creeps over her cheeks as she stares at the steak. “This is awkward. I know I’m cramping your style. But the crazy thing is, I’d still rather be here than with my family right now.”

Cramping my style? If I had any style left, I’d sure as shit let her cramp it.

She turns around and opens the refrigerator behind her. Unfortunately for my brain, she bends slightly as she reaches for the beer on the lower shelves.

All my good intentions disappear as she uncaps the beer and drains half the bottle in one gulp.

When she licks a drip off her lip, I quit thinking about what I want to do to her.

I’m across the floor and pulling her towards me before she can blink.