Chapter 5
Xavier
Even without a clock, I know I need to get out of bed. She’s lying in my arms, stroking my chest, as we lie in an easy silence until the room has started to grey.
Usually, I wouldn’t bother with talking but I’m curious. “When did you start cooking?”
“Right out of high school. I started as a kitchen hand, then worked my way up.”
It’s hard not to be impressed. “You didn’t go to school or anything?”
Her hand stills and her reply comes out a little defensive. “I sucked at school. The words used to jump off the page, and I could never understand any of it. I spent my entire childhood thinking I was stupid.”
I seem to have struck a nerve, but she doesn’t seem angry at me, and I suddenly understand why she got so irritated before.
“Turns out I had a learning disorder. I still struggle, but at least I know I’m not stupid like I thought I was.”
I exhale. “Your parents didn’t notice?”
There’s no doubt she still carries resentment when she replies. “They thought I was just slacking off. Tina was the one who helped me through high school. She used to do all my homework for me.”
No wonder she’s so bitter. “I still struggle, especially when I’m tired or stressed. But Aleki my sous chef helps me with the ordering and keeping the accounts.”
I turn on my side and look in her blue eyes. “Where do you work?”
She slides her hand over my hip. “Oasis Café and Bar.”
I file the name away in the hopes I might get a chance to see her in her natural habit.
The thought that I’m even considering such a thing is a little jarring. I draw back from her, with a whispered apology. “I need to get the generator from downstairs. Maybe you could light some candles?”
She nods and smiles coyly. “Sure, then I can start cooking. We can have dinner by candlelight.”
I laugh and gesture out to the curtain. “Not exactly fine dining.”
She shrugs lazily as if it’s not a problem. “It’s not the first time I’ve cooked in a blackout. And the company makes up for it.”
I lean over and press a kiss to her soft lips, slightly edgy at how easily she’s assimilated into my life.
In a matter of hours, she’s acting like she’s been here just as long as I have. It’s alarming that it feels like she has been.
As I pull my jeans over my ass, I’m struggling to recall any relationship with anyone that comes close to this.
My flings have been satisfying, but short-lived. I’ve never played games, always let women know I’m not looking for anything permanent, and so far, no one has complained.
It’s been the perfect arrangement. No expectations, no commitments, just two bodies seeking each other out for release and company from time to time.
I never wanted a woman to stay beyond sex. It was always a transaction, pleasurable, but once it was over, it was like watching a good movie. An escape for a few hours.
Then I’d be out the door, or she would be, and we’d just move on to reality.
But this woman is intoxicating and as she stretches her arms over her head, looking like she’s perfectly content here in my dingy little living space, I know I’m getting way too close to her.
In the fading light, my eyes can’t seem to find a place to settle on where to look.
I linger on the soft curve of her waist, the swell of her breasts, her pert nipples, and the v of her trimmed bush.
She’s every inch a woman. Not too skinny, thicker thighs, an ass I can grab onto and a curving stomach that lets me know she’s not afraid to eat.
When she rolls out of my bed, even with her blonde hair unstyled, and makeup-free face, she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
My feet start to cross the room before I think about how I don’t do relationships, especially not with a woman I might never see again.
The need to kiss her overrides the need to protect myself and I’m pulling her into my arms before I know what I’m doing.
Her bare breasts crush against my chest, her mouth opens, inviting my tongue inside.
I slide my hand around the back of her neck and drink her in like she’s the sustenance I need.
She responds eagerly, making little whimpers that make me wilder than I already feel.
I pull her closer, wrapping my arms around her, grabbing her hair, kissing her roughly, until I want to do more than just fuck her senseless.
I want to tell her the truth.
And that’s more dangerous than anything else I might be feeling right now.
***
Saturday 6.12pm
Carrie
He draws back, a strange look on his face. “Are you trying to kill me, woman?” he says.
I’m not exactly sure what he means until he grabs a t-shirt off the chair and hands it to me. “Honest to God, I can’t think around you.”
Feeling absolutely no remorse, I shrug the shirt over my head and inhale the scent of him as I push my arms through.
But instead of being pleased I’m covered up; he just groans. “Even that looks sexy on you.”
I’m not sure whether to be disappointed when he backs away. “You hungry? I need food.”
I am hungry, not surprising considering I haven’t eaten since the power bar he gave me. “Starving.”
He moves, I presume to head into the kitchen but I tut at him. “Leave that to me. You go get the generator. Dinner will be on the table in twenty minutes.”
He chuckles and offers me a mock salute. “Yes, Ma’am.”
To emphasize I am now in charge, I slap his ass. “And don’t try to help. You’ll just be in my way.”
He raises his hands in surrender and pulls his shirt back on. “I’ll get some light on in here.”
When he’s located a sizeable battery-powered lamp, and we spend a few minutes lighting enough candles to illuminate the kitchen, I find the hair tie I left on the counter and shoo him out. “I’m cooking this rare, is that okay?”
With a grin and confirmation, he leaves me ready to get to work. I probably should have gotten dressed, but there’s something incredibly indulgent and downright flagrantly naughty standing here in his shirt, in the candlelight with the rain pattering softly overhead that takes me back to the times I cooked for Myles.
Except Myles wasn’t a foodie. And he never understood why it gave me so much joy to slave over creating a meal. He’d as just as soon I made him a hamburger, and eating at the table was an exception, never the rule.
I try not to think about how wrong Myles and I were and keep working on a meal that hopefully will be appreciated.
When Xavier pushes through the door, the steak is resting, the potatoes are perfectly crisp, and I have my hands in the salad, mixing the dressing through.
He’s struggling with a generator and manages to make it inside the room, cursing and sweating as he places it by the door.
Shadows flicker off his strong jaw, and his eyebrows rise as he sees the table I’ve set.
As he moves closer, there’s something on his face, something in the way he’s looking at me, that makes warmth spread through me.
He stands behind me and slides his arms around my waist and kisses my neck. “Smells good,” he murmurs.
My skin rises, and my nipples stiffen as he gently sucks my earlobe. With my hands still in the salad bowl, I can’t do anything but moan and lean into him.
He seems to recognize I’m powerless and lifts the t-shirt covering my ass. His finger slides down my ass until he’s exploring my wetness. I moan and have to remind myself we need to eat. “Your food is getting cold.”
He presses one last kiss to my neck, sending shivers running down my spine. “You want another drink?”
He tugs his hand away and I take a second to compose myself before I take my hands out of the salad.
I turn around and find him pouring wine into a glass, a bemused expression on his face. Since he’s now under my feet, and my stomach is growling, I jerk my thumb. “Sit.”
He takes the hint, grabs the wine bottle and takes a seat so he’s watching me. He refills my glass as I plate up, wishing I’d been able to warm the plates better than I had.
I take the time to sprinkle some of the fresh herbs he had in the refrigerator and put my plate down before I serve him from the left and put my figurative chef hat on. “Your steak, Sir. Cooked rare with a red wine jus. Served with hand-cut French fries and homemade aioli. Sautéed beans, and honey balsamic carrots.”
He leans back as I place the plate on the table and looks up at me with what only can be described as admiration. “Where have you been all my life?”
I chuckle and lean down to kiss him. “Oasis Restaurant mostly. And from the looks of things you aren’t too shabby a cook yourself.”
He’s still shaking his head when I take a seat. He shifts in his chair and looks uneasy. “I get by.”
I pop a French fry into my mouth and watch as he picks up his knife and fork. He slices in and lets out an audible sigh of pleasure as he chews. “You keep this up; I won’t want you to leave.”
Even though it’s probably meant to be sweet, it’s a reminder that this weekend is just a very brief moment that’s passing all too quickly.
Rather than spoil the meal, I ask him what I’ve been wondering since I first walked into his workshop. “Are you from this area?”
He chews his steak and takes a few bites of his Julienne carrots. “No. I’m from—”
His eyes flick up and he seems to check himself. I ignore his reluctance to talk about himself and carry on eating as though it’s okay.
“I have a tendency to overshare when I’m comfortable with a person, so I understand not everyone is so open about themselves.”
He puts his fork down, his brow furrowed. “It’s better if we don’t discuss details.”
Despite what I just said, a sharp pain stabs into my mid-section. To hide my disappointment, I take a drink and change the subject. “Really. It’s okay. I’m happy to keep things simple. I don’t need any more complications in my life either.”
That, at least, is true.
I don’t want more complications. But eating here, in the middle of nowhere, with no electricity, wearing next to nothing, isn’t complicated at all.
In fact, it’s the opposite.
It’s simple. Easy, relaxed and I feel happier than I have in years.
When he finishes his food and smiles at me with more warmth and more affection I saw my entire relationship, it’s perfectly simple.
For whatever reason, even though I should be, for the first time since accepting the job as Executive Chef at Oasis, I’m not stressed.
***
Xavier
Saturday 7.44pm
Despite what I said, a part of me wants to open up. And while I can’t give her too many details, I was raised to pay a compliment when one is due so I smile at her. “You weren’t lying. You do know your way around the kitchen.”
She snickers. “You didn’t believe me?”
I take a sip of wine before I answer. “I wasn’t sure. A lot of people think they’re good at things when they aren’t.”
She nods slowly. “False confidence?”
“Exactly.”
Her smile turns wistful. “If anything I’m the opposite. I tend to want perfection. And if I can’t make that happen, it’s hard not to beat myself up about it.”
Her eyes find mine and her smile slips. “You grow up with a critical overbearing mother who belittles everything you do, it makes it hard to not think everything you do is crap.”
Her mom must be a piece of work. “They must be proud of you though?”
She shrugs. “I’m Mom’s greatest disappointment. And dad is too placid to contradict her.”
Our backgrounds couldn’t be more different. I’m not about to tell her my dad is a good man, and even though he was gone a lot, I know he loves us.
And mom is a typical military wife. Resilient, tough, diplomatic and fiercely loyal.
Instead of telling her any of that, I switch it back to her family. “You have any brothers and sisters?”
She takes a drink before nodding. “One of each. Older sister. Younger brother. I’m the middle child. Are you older or younger than your brother?”
“Older. Jake just turned twenty-one.”
In between bites, I tell her about Jake’s rebellious streak, about him getting his girlfriend pregnant, and him signing up.
Out of practice, I leave out anything that could lead back to my folks or land me in hot water down the line.
By the time I’ve given her the rundown on my folks, and Jake, I’ve cleaned my plate, and we’ve finished an entire bottle of wine.
The candles flicker as a wind gust blows through the apartment and she shivers.
I push back from the table and gesture to the generator. “I’ll get it going then find some heat.”
In the soft light of the candles, she smiles up at me suggestively. “Or we could make our own?”
I chuckle and grab her hand so I can tug her to her feet. I kiss her soft lips and run my hands up her arms. “We could. But you’ll need your clothes at some point.”
I pull away so I can stack the dishes but she stops me. “I can do that if you grab my bag for me?”
I shake my head. “You cooked, I clean up.”
A faint trace of amusement laces her reply. “Is this an army thing?”
I chuckle and start clearing the plates. I don’t look at her as I stack them. “No. It’s a Reid family thing.”
Through the sound of the rain, I hear her sigh softly. When I’ve cleared the table, I look up to find her gazing at me. “Wow. You sound like the Brady Bunch.”
I snort a laugh. “Hardly.”
I take the plates into the kitchen and dump them in the sink. Since there’s not enough hot water to wash them, I scrap them into the trash and rinse them.
When I turn around, she’s sitting at the table, her eyes on me, and her hand wrapped around her glass.
I jerk my thumb towards the door. “I’ll get your gear. And when I can boil some water, I’ll wash the dishes.”
Her nod is distracted, but her words make it clear she isn’t. “Aside from living above a garage, you’re quite a catch.”
I can’t even begin to address all the reasons why that’s not the case. Maybe in another lifetime, we’d make a good team.
But right here, right now, this weekend is about all I can offer her.
I avoid the comment, leave her sitting, drinking, wearing my favorite shirt, and making me want to forget why I’m here.
I’m back downstairs and about to grab her bag when the garage phone rings. I know it’s going to be Julie before I pick it up.
My stomach knots, as a solid lump of guilt builds. I grab the receiver and hope my voice sounds normal. “Gerald’s.”
Julie sounds out of breath when her voice comes down the line. “We’ve got intel there’s been movement in the area.”
Shit.
My heart starts to thump against my rib cage as she asks the question I knew she would. “You noticed anyone at your end?”
The door opens above me and I find myself staring up at Carrie’s long legs, still bare, her eyes lock on to me and an uncertain smile appears.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Cold sweat starts to trickle down my back as Julie prods me for a reply. “Reid? If anyone is out in this weather and heading to the resort, they’re a potential suspect.”
I swallow and keep my eyes on Carrie as she stares down at me.
For a second I can’t think, let alone process what Julie’s saying. Timing wise this doesn’t look good.
And I stupidly invited her into my apartment.
***
Carrie
My first thought is that if Xavier is on the phone, the phone lines are working.
But my relief is short-lived when he sends me such a frosty look, I can almost feel the temperature drop.
I swallow and back up a step, shivers running over my skin I’m not sure is from the lack of clothing.
His eyes never stray from me as he lowers his voice. “Negative. I have everything under control.”
He drops the receiver down and starts climbing the stairs. His icy manner doesn’t change as I back away and allow him entry into the apartment.
If I wasn’t already convinced the phone call had something to do with his mood, I know it when he gestures to the sofa. “Sit. I need to ask you some questions.”
He looks so serious, I swallow. “Who was on the phone?”
His jaw works as he stares at my bag in his hand. “I’m going to open this. Anything I need to know about the contents?”
I frown at him and shake my head. “What are you talking about?”
He blatantly ignores me and my shock increases as he takes a seat and unzips my bag.
I move towards him, ready to protest, by he silences me with a look. “Any weapons?”
I’m so confused, a laugh escapes. “What on earth are you talking about?”
His eyes flick from my bag to me, as he digs around like he’s airport security.
Other than it being an invasion of my privacy, his tone and manner are so brusque, it’s hard to reconcile the man sitting glowering at me, with the man I was in bed with an hour ago.
I clear my throat, sure this is some kind of bizarre mistake when he pulls out my knives wrapped in the leather pouch.
He raises them and looks at me like I’m a wanted criminal. “What’s this?”
I fold my arms across my chest, feeling ridiculous I’m only wearing his shirt when he’s interrogating me. “My knives.”
His eyebrows rise. “You carry your knives around with you?”
I’m feeling so indignant, I just shrug. “It’s a chef thing. You wouldn’t understand.”
His brow knits. “Try me.”
I have no interest in trying to explain to him. For whatever reason instead of the man I just made dinner for, Xavier has turned into some psycho who seems to think I’m up to no good.
My voice hitches way higher than I’d like. “Why are you being such a prick?”
In the flickering candlelight, the muscle along his jawline moves as he clenches it. “I’m just trying to make sure you are who you say you are. I think I’ll make a few phone calls.”
I snort another laugh. “Good. Call me a damn tow truck so I can get the hell out of here!”
His eyes narrow. “So you can get to your family? Not to work up there?”
I throw my hands up in the air. Where did that come from? “I told you. I have to see my family. We do this every year. Just not normally up here.”
He sniffs and tosses my bag on the floor before he slides his hand inside his jean pocket and pulls out a cell. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
He gets to his feet, taking my Messermeister knives with him and heads into his bedroom.
I’m so disgusted, so completely pissed off with his behavior, I grab my bag, and dig around, squinting in the dim light until I find my underwear and a pair of sweatpants.
I yank the underwear on and wriggle into my faded sweatpants.
I didn’t bring another bra with me, so I leave his shirt on until I can go back and locate the remainder of my clothing.
The motel isn’t that far away. Maybe the owner will take pity on me and accept my credit card details?
I can hear him talking behind the flimsy curtain but with the rain, and the wind outside, can’t quite make out what he’s saying.
I locate my socks, tug them over my feet, and wait in the candlelight for him to offer an explanation for his abrupt personality shift.
The sooner I get out of here and away from Xavier, the better.
