Page 24 of Craving Chaos

SHAE

“He grazed me—nothing serious.” Renzo’s words are labored.

It’s pitch black inside the cabin, so I feel around for the chair I’d noticed as I ran in. “Here,” I pull him toward the chair. “Sit down so I can get a fire going and look at your arm.” I crack the door to let in the last bits of daylight enough to see the inside of the cabin long enough to get my bearings. I make a mental map of a few essentials, note a box of matches next to the stove, then close the door again. Feeling around, I take a cup towel from its hook on the wall and wrap it around Renzo’s arm. “Keep that pulled tight. I’m going to see if I can grab some of that wood I dropped.”

“How do you know Smokey isn’t still out there?”

“He ran when you hit him, and I’m not planning to stay out long enough to lure him back. I’m grabbing what I dropped and getting my ass back inside.”

He grunts, then drops his head back and closes his eyes. He isn’t passed out or anything, but he’s not in great shape either now that the adrenaline has abandoned him. I need to hurry.

I do a quick visual sweep of the area, then run like I’m in grade school trying to help my team win a relay race. I collect every stick I can manage and dart back to the cottage. My heart thunders in my chest when I’m done, both from exertion and relief. We did it. We made it to shelter. I lean back against the door and smile.

“Chaos,” Renzo says softly as he watches me. “Pure chaos.”

I have to bite back a laugh because of the absurdity of it all. The past two days have been absolute insanity. I start snapping twigs to fit in the small iron stove, praying they are sufficient kindling to catch fire. I really, really don’t want to have to go back out there. “Hey, you can’t blame me this time. I wasn’t the one pretending to be Uber Eats for the bear. He thought someone had called for takeout when he smelled your yummy shoes.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Damn thing should have been hibernating.”

I feel for the box of matches I spotted earlier. “You know bears aren’t unconscious when they hibernate, right?”

“Why the fuck would I know anything about bears?”

“You knew to make yourself look bigger,” I say as I light some pine needles under the pile of sticks then close the door before the smoke bellows into the room.

“That’s just common sense. Anyone knows it’s best to look like the biggest, baddest motherfucker out there, even if you aren’t.”

I watch through the small window and see some of the twigs start to catch fire, helping to light the room in addition to provide heat. The tiniest bit of tension eases from my shoulders. We’re much better off in the cabin than outside, but having a fire warm us would be even better.

I take my first real look around our new digs and see a single bed I’m not even sure can be called a twin. There’s a bookcase doubling as a table by the chair Renzo occupies, and another cupboard-like set of shelves on the opposite wall. The place is fully stocked. As much as I’ve cursed our luck, this is a sign that we haven’t been totally forsaken. Cooking utensils, tools, almost any supplies we could ask for are either hanging on the walls or tucked away on shelves. There’s even a stockpile of canned goods. Mostly fruits and vegetables. Some beans. It won’t feed two people for long, but it’ll work for now.

I ignore my rumbling stomach and put a few larger bits of wood on the fire before returning to Renzo. Let’s get this stuff off and have a look. As I pull his jacket off his muscled shoulders, I have to wonder how he didn’t freeze today. He never complained, but his jacket isn’t nearly as warm as my coat. Beneath the jacket, he wears a sweatshirt and a simple cotton undershirt. “You okay to lift your arms?”

The flickering light from the fire shines in his eyes. Without answering, he lifts his shirts up and over his head in one clean motion, tossing them on the ground. His stare never leaves mine.

I, on the other hand, have to drop my gaze to the irresistible sight of Renzo Donati’s naked chest. I knew he had tattoos. His neck is decorated with a tease of ink that hints at what might be lurking further beneath his collar. I wasn’t prepared, however, for the way my body would react to the sight of his.

Need pools deep in my belly at the artfully designed images covering his torso and left arm, bleeding one into the other seamlessly over smooth skin. His right arm is totally bare. I can tell he’s disciplined in his workout routine and diet by the definition of his honed muscles. That sort of physique takes dedication. As someone who practically lives at the gym, I respect that.

I lick my parched lips and try to focus.

His arm, dimwit. Check out his arm.

I position myself to get closer but not block the light—there’s little enough of that as it is. Renzo has three claw marks across his outer shoulder. Two are manageable and have almost stopped bleeding. “This middle one is pretty nasty. I think it might need stitches,” I tell him.

“There’s a sewing kit in the first-aid bag.” He nods his head toward the floor where the canvas bag and its contents are piled next to the door.

“It’s going to hurt like a bitch.” I’m sure he knows, but I have to say it. I feel bad causing him that kind of pain after everything we’ve already been through.

“If you can manage the stitching, I’ll manage the pain.”

I nod and turn to get the kit, but he grabs my hand to stop me. “Need food and water first. Let’s get a bucket of snow melting and put on a can of beans, then you can have at it. Yeah?”

I nod again and help him wrap the towel around his arm. Once it’s in place, I give him a playful glare. “You stay put. Don’t need you bleeding out. You’re too damn big to bury.” There’s no way he’s bleeding out from the wound anytime soon. It needs stitches, but it’s not life-threatening. I simply prefer to keep things light, especially when a situation is bleak.

My effort earns me a small smirk that does funny things to my insides. Things I don’t want to feel.

I have to remember that this man is the head of one of the Italian Five Families. He’s arrogant and bossy. Until we were stuck out here, he frustrated the hell out of me. This man isn’t someone to crush over.

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