Page 18 of Adrift

“Oh!” I look up at them. “And I’ll make him something for supper, too!”

Berty hesitates, clears his throat, and looks toward the house before hastily nodding at me. “Yeah. I bet he’d really appreciate that.”

Both of them saw my trial day in the kitchen. There’s a reason I’m working service, and I’m only allowed to do the easy lunchmenu. I can just about manage fried and frozen foods… maybe put together a sandwich, at a stretch.

But if Gage Russell is living in a shed with no power or lights, I can figure out how to follow one simple recipe. And maybe—just maybe—I’ll get invited into that shed for activities that definitely don’t require power, or lights… or even clothes.

I hope I’m being the right kind of young and dumb. But I guess there’s no way to know that yet. I just have to follow my heart and find out what happens.

After all, it led me here.

Chapter

Seven

GAGE

The rain isabout to start, and evening is setting in. Plus, my stomach is growling. I haven’t even decided which can of soup to heat up for supper on my little camp stove.

“There,” I grunt, tossing the last sheet of plywood onto the pile. I haul the tarp across it, and then I peel off my work gloves and slap them against my thigh. “Time to see what I signed up for.”

I turn back to the orchard cabin, propping my fists on my hips to study it.

The little log house has spent most of the last forty years as a glorified storage shed. Now that I’ve pulled the plywood off the windows and brought a lot of the boxes outside, I can see where I’ll be living… while there’s still a little light left.

I’ll be happy as long as I don’t have to pitch a tent in a shed… so to speak.

Once I duck through the doorframe, I stop to admire the place.

It’s actually really pretty in here. Dusty as hell, obviously, but I can see the potential. The sunset helps, too. Great-Granddad Hank put the biggest windows right here so they’d catch the evening light.

To the right, a third of the main room is the empty kitchen. I’ve shoved my backpack and groceries there. The other two-thirds is the living room… or at least, it’s supposed to be. Despite all the boxes I’ve hauled out, it still looks like a shed right now. Until I fix up the lean-to, I’m keeping anything in here that wouldn’t like the rain.

That means sharing my space with cardboard boxes, machinery, tools… and spiders who basically have adverse possession by now.

Oh, God. Don’t think about that, or you’ll never get to sleep.

A guy as big and tough as me definitely shouldn’t react to spiders the way I do. I offered them a deal so I could cope with this afternoon’s clear-out: I’ll avert my gaze and pretend not to see them, as long as they scuttle their butts right out of here.

Not sure that’ll work, but it makes me feel better.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful that this place is filled with everything I need to pull this off. But I can’t exactly kick back and relax on that rusty old lawnmower.

I can’t even imagine the look on anyone else’s face if they walked in here. And byanyone, I obviously mean Kieran.

God. Little fiery Kieran.

I spent the whole walk home thinking about the bartender. And blushing like crazy. His teasing lilt, the warmth in his eyes, the way my chest flip-flops whenever he brushes past my arm…

Kieran’s a lot. Enthusiastic, sweet, and driven. Hot as hell, too.

Just the kind of pocket rocket I can’t resist. If I’m not careful, he’ll wrap me around his little finger in a heartbeat. The way he was flirting with me, well… I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s my first house guest.

I’ve never had a neighbour who so obviously wants to lend me his sugar.

A dripping, plopping sound jars me out of my thoughts.

“Oh, shit. Rain’s here,” I mumble, rubbing my chin as I look up at the roof. Within seconds, it’s a steady pitter-pitter.

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