Page 9 of Tell Me Again
“Kind of a slut, aren’t you?” Trevor asked as he bent to pet the dog. He waited a few moments, expecting Sam to appear, but the cabin remained quiet. “Where is she, buddy?” The answer came in the form of an unholy clattering from deep inside the building.
Frank flipped back to his feet, whining softly.
“Let’s check it out,” Trevor told him then called out, “Hello?”
When there was no answer, he followed the sound through the cabin. The dining hall had several wide-plank pine tables situated in its center and an oversized buffet at one end. The room had an incredible view of the lake shimmering from a hundred feet behind the cabin, and the enormous fireplace and hearth on the far wall gave the setting a cozy, mountain feel. As he moved toward the kitchen, he could see the outcome of the storm’s damage. There was a distinct breeze blowing in through a hole in the ceiling at least five feet in diameter, and the limbs of the top half of a pine tree covered the counters, island, and floor.
He moved into the doorway between the dining hall and the kitchen and stopped. Sam was standing at the far end of the kitchen, trying to lift a bulky metal cabinet from the floor. She’d wedged herself underneath it, clearly intending to lever it upright but her shoes were slipping on the tile floor, and the front edge of the cabinet was tottering precariously. The whole thing looked like it was going to crush her under its mass, and Trevor rushed forward to grab the other side.
His muscles screamed as he gripped the edges and used his body weight to heft the massive piece of furniture. Sam let out a little yip as his fingers slipped, but he managed to get the cabinet back against the wall. Around them pots, pans, strainers, and other kitchen accessories littered the floor.
Sam’s eyes widened as her gaze crashed into his. She ripped a pair of earbuds from her ears and glared at him. “What are you doing here?”
“I stopped by to save you from killing yourself,” he said, wheezing a little from either the effort or the scare—he couldn’t tell which. The tinny sound of country music came from the earbuds she held in her hand.
“I had it under control.” She pulled an iPhone from her pocket, hit a button to turn off the music, then placed the device on the stainless-steel counter behind her.
“Like hell you did,” he muttered, and her eyes narrowed.
“I’ve been on my own for a lot of years, Trevor. I manage just fine without help.”
He surveyed the mess of pots and pans then glanced at where pine needles littered the floor. “Obviously.”
“Not a lot I can do about a storm knocking a tree into the cabin.” She lifted a hand to push her hair out of her face and he saw the splotch of red on the back of her arm.
“You’re hurt.” Instinctively he took her arm, holding her steady when she tried to shrug him off.
“I must have scraped it on the edge of the cabinet.” She lifted her arm and tried to see the injury, but couldn’t because of the angle of the cut. “It’s nothing.”
“Where’s the first aid kit?”
She wrenched her arm away and reached for a dry rag on the counter, then pressed it to her arm. “It’snothing,” she insisted but winced.
“That nothing is a deep cut which is going to drip blood all over the floor if you don’t bandage it. Where’s the first aid kit?”
She looked at him a long moment and then nodded. “In the cabinet next to the sink. I can get it.”
“Sit down,” he said, pointing to a stool at the far end of the kitchen island.
“You were always too bossy,” she muttered, but lowered herself to the seat.
“And you never listened,” he shot back. He pulled out the red vinyl bag from the cabinet, wet a paper towel, and returned to her.
“I can handle it,” she insisted, reaching for the kit. Their fingers brushed and she pulled away.
“Do you have to argue about everything?” He set the kit on the counter, opened it to look for the supplies he needed. He glanced up to find her studying him.
“Yes,” she said quietly. “With you I need to argue about everything.”
He felt one side of his mouth curve because he understood her answer. Anger was the least complicated of the emotions he felt toward Sam, annoyance the most straightforward. It was slightly gratifying to know he wasn’t the only one affected, but it didn’t change the fact that she was dangerous to him. Those other emotions were there, just below the surface, murky and intriguing. They beckoned to him like a siren’s song, whispering of a desire and devotion he’d left behind long ago.
He swallowed his emotions and made his voice casual. “Let’s take a short time-out so I can patch you up, then we’ll get back to it.” She gave a small laugh and nodded. He put his hands on her shoulders to turn her to a more accessible angle and heard her breath hitch. The energy between them swirled and shifted, and he was once again caught in the black hole of his unwanted attraction to her.
A piece of hair slipped from her ponytail and fell over his hand. The weight of it was so whisper-light he barely felt it, but the sight of that shiny, golden tendril against his tanned skin made his body tighten. Memories of another time battered against his mind, and he forcibly pushed them away.
He released his grip on her and picked up the paper towel, dabbing it at the cut. “It’s deep but small.”
Sam glanced at him over her shoulder. “That’s what she said,” she drawled. When he snorted and shook his head, she shrugged. “Time-out, right? I can make a joke during a time-out.”
