Page 91 of Recurve Ridge

“She sounds like a good sister,” I murmured. “You must miss her.”

“I do.” Robe’s voice cracked like sharp toffee. He sighed. “She’s all the family I have left. None of us have much to keep us here, yet here we stay.”

He worked his hands a little too hard over my shoulder, but I let it ride. The damage there healed long ago, and I sensed his need to release whatever was eating him inside.

“You have each other, you know. Ow.” A whimper busted through my short-lived vow of silence.

“You’re right. We do.” He paused. “Sorry.”

“For attacking my back, or for not valuing the wonderful collection of broken things you’ve mended here?”

“You do sound like the professional shrink.” Robe kept working, rolling his knuckles against stubborn spots.

After a few minutes, the tension in my muscles began to ease, and I suspected the remaining aches could be attributed to other stresses during my time in the cabin that went beyond working out.

I closed my eyes and let out a soft sigh. “That feels so good.” Releasing my death grip on the pillow, I arched my back.

He stuffed what felt like a stiff tower of pillows beneath me. My spine appreciated the support, and I mumbled my thanks to the pillows, floating on fluffy darkness. An oxymoron as well as a mixed metaphor, perhaps, but it suited him.

Suitedus.

Robe squeezed my sides, and I knew we both valued the warmth and silence of the moment he’d created.

For nearly six months, every inch of me had been terrified of Robe—and wanted him pressed against me at the same time, while he worried I might freak out or sneak away. And I had my own hang-ups. But suddenly, none of them seemed as important as they had before. The trust we’d generated over our time together that had stretched out inch by coveted inch landed us… here.

And I didn’t want to leave.

I strangled the pillow in tight arms that undid all the work he’d put into my back.

“You’re not the only one who feels… good.” Robe snorted and started to free up my muscles again. “The girl who has my boys in knots fantasizing about what they think they can’t have.”

“They don’t think that.” I paused, letting my mind wander. Alan had said plenty of things along those lines while flirting. “Maybe one,” I conceded.

“You’re too nice, sweetheart.” He traced a word on my back, too fast for me to make out. “Do you enjoy working on the accounts?”

“You told me to do it. It’s not like anything else is taking up my time.”

“Isn’t it?” He hesitated over my ribs. “We need to cover you up before you get too cold. Are you tired?”

“Which do you want me to answer first?” I yawned again. By the time I managed to mumble some inaudible response, I’d forgotten half his questions. “I’m not bored with the work, exactly. I like to be active, and I like to feel useful. That somehow I can help. That was why—” My breath caught, but he didn’t push. I swallowed. “Why I chose the job I did.”

“You’re helping.”

“How so? The job feels fake, like it’s something you could all do without me, something to, I don’t know, keep me here. Occupied. I take up everyone’s time, alcohol, food, and hot water. According to Alan, I am a pretty cu—um, pussy you all want to fuck.” I closed my eyes and stopped—everything.

Stopped worrying, stopped fighting the edge of sleep and combating my fears.

Robe’s presence left me safer than I could ever ask for. Nothing could hurt me here, and if he stayed, I would sleep heavy and dreamless.

Which sounded pretty dandy at that moment.

Robe stilled. “A pretty pink cunt to fuck,” he amended, adding his own touch to another man’s words.

Shit.My tongue got loose with this man.Noted.“Okay, so I paraphrased.”

“Did you?”

I winced. “It’s pretty close?”

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