Page 48 of Cabin Fever

"Stay here and be quiet. I think it's someone breaking in."

Carter lifted me one-handed from his lap and scurried to the door. My eyes widened as I worried he would get hurt. I put my top back on and raced over to him and grabbed his shoulder before he opened the door.

"Where's your rifle?" I whispered. I still remembered that image of him holding it the night he found me eating his beans. Whoever was out there would take one look at my mountain of a man with his rifle and run.

"It's up in the loft. Since I had been sleeping there, I kept it nearby. I hadn't moved it yet. Don't worry, I got this." He held up his cast.

I gasped. "You must be insane!" I whisper-screamed. "You'll do more damage to your arm. What if you can never farm sheep again?"

I was sure there were one-armed farmers in the world, but I didn't want him to know that. He was going to get hurt trying to beat someone with a broken arm.

Carter turned, cupping his hand to my cheek. "Olivia, please stay here. If things get bad, run to the farm. There's a large ax hanging by the sheep shears. I don't want you to get hurt."

He should run, too. We needed to hide in the barn, surrounded by sheep poop. A robber wasn't going to go after anyone through a minefield of crap.

Taking his hand from my cheek, I placed it on my left tit. "Do you feel this?"

His emerald eyes darkened, and he made the same sound he did when I first took my top off. It was weird yet sexy, and I knew he was listening.

"This is the boob of a woman who knows karate, tae kwon do, and kickboxing. I have been kicked, punched, and grabbed in this tit more times than you've shorn sheep. If anyone is going out to face the intruder, it's me."

My words sunk in. The glassy, startled gaze in his eyes disappeared. He straightened to his full height and lowered his arm.

"You're the insane one if you think I'm letting you go out there. I'm sure your fancy instructors spent years in the Far East studying ancient text involving martial arts so your rich parents could teach their precious daughter, but in real life, you could get killed. This isn't the first time someone has broken into the cabin, and it probably won't be the last. That's the thing about isolation . . . it attracts the crazies."

"Tell me about it," I mumbled as my eyes darted to the floor.

A rush of air fluttered over me as Carter opened the bedroom door, stepped outside, and closed it before I could stop him.

Ugh. Men.

I waved my hands in the air mimicking him. "I'm a big man beast. You stay here, small woman. I go beat up bad guy."

Once my immature rage had settled, I pushed my ear to the door.

"Get out of my house," I heard Carter yell. I didn't know if it was because his voice was muffled or if he did it on purpose, but he deepened his voice and I found that super sexy.

"Where's the money?" Another male voice slipped through the door.

"I have no money. Leave. The only thing of value I have is my dishes. Feel free to run through the woods carrying a stack of plates, dum-dum."

I grimaced. It was times like this that I wished Carter cursed. I understood it was best not to use foul language but when you're trying to scare a robber; you need to use everything you got.

The intruder laughed. "Shut up, Fitzwilliam. I know who you are. You can hide all you want up here, but you owe our family money. We were ruined because of your stupid family."

Did Carter know this guy? This would make a really cool show on Netflix that I would totally binge-watch but being in the middle of it didn't make it seem so awesome. It was horrible and scary, and I might have permanently put pit stains on Carter's top.

There was a bang which sounded like something falling over. I heard a bark and felt relief that Kitty was still alive. I was worried the bad guy had hurt her.

Carter cried out, and I didn't hesitate. My hand was on the doorknob, pulling the door open before I even knew what I would do once I left the bedroom. Everyone always had a plan—in movies, in shows . . . even my father had a plan when dealing with stubborn clients.

I stood in the hallway, watching the guy I had grown to care about over the past two weeks get thrashed around his kitchen. I tried to remember what my instructors had told me, but the only thing that came to mind was to be in the moment.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before cementing my gaze on the men. What I noticed was neither of them knew I was standing about twenty-five feet from them. The hall was dark with no windows to light me. I was a shadow.

Both men were struggling. There wasn't much hitting going on, more like wrestling. It would be hot if they were both wearing tight uniforms and greased up, but this was real life as Carter pointed out. Real life wrestling involved a man in flannel pj's and a worn gray T-shirt fighting another man in jeans and a leather jacket.

I waited for Carter to turn before I crept toward them. Kitty was the only one in the room to notice me. She began to wag her tail and came forward. Carter had shown me a few hand gestures over the past week to instruct Kitty. I held my hand up to tell her to stop, which she did. Then I lifted my palm up informing her to sit. Again, she listened.

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