Page 33 of Kind of a Bad Idea

I pride myself on my thick skin, but his tone gets to me for some reason. Maybe it’s the exhaustion of the day or the pain from my wounds or just the fact that I’m madly in love with a man who acts like I’m a plague he’s determined not to catch, but before I know it tears are stinging into my eyes.

I tuck the card back into the basket and circle quickly around Seven’s prone form, hurrying toward the door before he gets a look at my face. “I’ll go grab some kindling before it gets too dark and start the fire for bath water. Be back in a few.”

I burst through the door without waiting for a response.

I head off the porch and into the woods a few dozen feet away, taking deep breaths and fighting to get control of myself. I shouldn’t take any of this personally. Seven is a stubborn, independent man whose free will has been taken away. That’s why he’s cranky, not because he’s repulsed by the thought of spending a few days alone with me.

He proved he wasn’t repulsed by me with that kiss this morning and again when he was treating my wounds. I know I wasn’t the only one affected by his hands on my thighs. Even when my skin was stinging with agony, the longing to get closer to him was still there.

In different circumstances, the tender way he caressed my leg before the bandages were in place would have been enough to make my panties wet.

Speaking of panties…

I can’t wait to get a fresh pair on. Say what you will about our meddling family members, but at least they had the forethought to leave us extra clothes, just in case. I don’t care if I have to take an ice-cold shower, I fully intend to be clean by the time Seven emerges from his bath.

I finish gathering a pile of small sticks to use as kindling, hitch my borrowed pants up with one hand, then scoop the pile up under my other arm. When I turn back toward the cabin, both of my hands are occupied.

Still, I usually would have been able to drop the sticks and lift my arms in time to fend off the beast hurling itself at my midsection.

I blame the twenty-mile hike for my slow reflexes and Seven’s oversized pants for the fact that I trip on loose fabric as I step backwards and end up flat on my back in the fall leaves, making me easy prey for the fur potato leaping onto my chest.

Chapter 12

SEVEN

Ihear Binx squeal from the bedroom, where I’m scoping out the clothes Sprout packed for me, and spin toward the door. My aching muscles protest the swift movement, but I push through the pain and stiffness.

We may have food and clothing, but we don’t have any cell service out here or any other way to call for help. If there’s an emergency, things could go very bad, very quickly. It’s something I’m going to be sure to impress upon Sprout as soon as we’re home.

You can’t just kidnap people and leave them stranded in the middle of nowhere without a way to reach medical attention. My mother and Binx’s sister should have known better, and I intend to make sure my daughter doesn’t grow up to make reckless decisions like this as a grown-up.

I push through the back door and charge out onto the deck.

It takes a beat for my eyes to adjust to the fading light outside, but after a moment, I spot Binx in the shadows beneath the trees and exhale a relieved breath.

“Don’t worry, he’s harmless,” I say, dragging a hand through my hair as I slow my pace. “His name’s Tater Tot. Just tell him to sit.”

“He is sitting,” Binx says, her voice strained. “On my chest, and his teeth are fucking enormous. He showed them to me a second ago.”

“Aw, he was just smiling at you, no reason to be afraid,” I say, chuckling when Tater Tot turns to grin at me, flashing his giant bottom teeth. “Isn’t that right, you little charmer? I didn’t know if I’d see you again before hibernation time. You’re looking good, man. Nice and husky for the winter.”

“Please, get him off of me?” Binx pleads as I stop a few feet away, gazing down at her with an amused grin. “I’m not a fan of rodents. Even really cute rodents that look like fur potatoes.”

“Groundhogs are sweet, actually, especially this one,” I say as I crouch down and cluck my tongue for Tater Tot. “I’ve known this guy since he was a baby last spring. I met him when we were first looking at the property. He’s crazy smart. Understands his name, sit, and the names of all his favorite treats. Come here, Tater Tot. Come on, buddy. I’ll grab you an apple slice from inside.”

At the word “apple slice” Tater Tot scrambles off Binx’s chest and trots over. He stops about a foot away from me, his entire pudgy bottom trembling with excitement. I don’t hold a hand out to touch him, though. Sprout desperately wanted to turn Tater Tot into another family pet, but the three chickens we have already are more than enough for me.

Tater Tot is better off in the wild, without the smell of human beings on him. It’s best if he maintains a little fear of getting too close to us.

Though he was just sitting on Binx’s chest…

I glance her way as she sits up, brushing furiously at the front of her fleece. “He’s never climbed on top of anyone before. He usually keeps his distance.”

“Really? He jumped at me like the killer bunny from that Monty Python movie.” She stands, inching farther away from the trembling groundhog. “And when I tripped and fell, he was on me before I could move.”

I frown. “Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself when you fell?”

She shakes her head. “No, just my pride. Logically, I know rodents can be sweet furry friends, but there’s a reason I refuse to pet-sit Uncle Maynard’s guinea pigs. I just can’t with vermin. Even pet vermin.” She shudders and shakes her hands at her sides. “I feel like I’ve been touched by the Black Death. It was spread by rats, you know.”

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