Page 4 of The Cabin

I give a small wave and turn back towards the way I came.

The next thing I hear is a loudthudas my body slams into the ground. My foot is caught in one of the many potholes on the porch, and I definitely twisted my ankle on the way down. An, ‘Oof,’escapes me.

“Shit, are you alright?” Grayson drops the wood back on the porch and rushes to kneel beside me.Oh sure, I’m great. Definitely not embarrassed. Because I definitely didn’t just eat shit in front of the world’s sexiest lumberjack slash engineer.

I start to sit up. “Hang on, take it slow. Your foot is still caught in the hole.”

Groaning, I silently pray my face isn’t as beat red as it feels. I’m too cute and quirky for my own good. Eye roll.

Grayson gently touches my ankle. “Does this hurt?” He turns to make eye contact and I melt a little, his green eyes are filled with concern.

“Not really.” I murmur, breaking the connection and looking down at my lap.

He starts to pull my foot out and I stifle a yelp.

“You okay?” He pauses, hands holding my ankle, blasting me with his hot guy smolder again. I nod.

Once my foot is out of the hole, Grayson stands up and holds out one of his strong, weathered hands. I reluctantly grab it and he pulls me up with ease. I can’t even pull my own self up with ease, let alone somebody else.

“I don’t have a first aid kit up here. It’s on my grocery list…”

“Oh, I’m fine! Don’t worry about it. There’s one in my cabin. I’ll be totally fine. Thanks so much for all your help.” I rush the words out, hoping to get out of this situation as quickly as possible so I can be mortified in the peace and comfort of my own, dead animal smelling home. I am now very much in support of leaving all the muscles behind.

“I’ll walk you back –” he starts and I am immediately shaking my head. Absolutely not. That cannot, and will not happen.

“No, no, no. I’ve taken up enough of your time already. I’m totally good. Please, your wood needs you…” I mentally punch myself in the face.Your wood needs you? Sol, what the actual fuck.

“If you’re sure…”

“Yes, totally sure. Never been better.” My tone is excessively chipper and I begin to shuffle towards the creek. Unfortunately, my ankle hurts. Like a lot. And I sway a little when I try to put pressure on it.

“Okay, you’re definitely not alright. Let me carry you down to your cabin and I can help you wrap it.” The world’s largest protest is on my lips when suddenly his strong arms slip under me and I am being carried, bridal style, through the woods by a shirtless man with an eight pack. Absolutely, 100% normal.

If I thought I was mortified before, I am triple that now. My face is so, so close to his, because where else can I possibly put it? Do I look at his jaw? Should I turn and look down at his neck? I could just give myself a triple chin and stare down at my stomach? And I am so very,veryaware that I smell like that dead animal still. There is literally a zero percent chance he doesn’t smell it. Oh mygod.

Underneath the embarrassment, there is definitely something else. My body is very aware of every single location he is pressed against me. Grayson’s hands are gripping my upper thighs, very close to my ass, and my upper arm. I can feel the way his stomach muscles shift as he walks. I don’t know if it’s impressive or pathetic that I feel tingles everywhere. Especially downthere.

I decide on looking at his neck, and his Adam’s apple bobs slightly, muscles pulled taught from carrying me. It suddenly occurs to me that I could have slipped on a rock on my way over the creek, hit my head, and this could all be a coma-induced fever dream brought to life by the desperate state of my attention deprived life.

He navigates the creek with annoying ease, and doesn’t even need to set me down to open the door of the cabin. Show off.

“Woah.” He coughs, setting me down on top of the table where all my meditation papers are scattered.

“Yeah, something died in the coal stove.”

He walks over to check it out. “Holy shit, that’s fresh.” He’s laughing, but I’m dying. Inside.

“Where’s the first aid kit?” he asks, stepping back in front of me. I motion towards one of the cabinets and wait for him to grab it. He comes back with an ace bandage and some ibuprofen.

“Thank you” I reach for the bandage, but he pulls it towards him and begins taking my shoe off.

I refuse to look at him. I mean,come on. It would just be too much. This big, gorgeous man,kneelingat my feet. You’re joking, right? I mean, you have to be joking.

Grayson makes quick work of it, and I try not to notice how gentle he is, how patient and determined. I make no note of all the places his fingertips graze my skin, pay no attention to the way his breath fans over my ankle from being so close. Absolutely none.

“You should stay off of it for a couple hours. I’m going to head into town, grab some ice and some other stuff I need. When I get back we’ll ice your foot and I’ll clean out the coal stove.” He’s packing supplies away and gesturing towards me like he’s going to pick me up again.

“Oh, you don’t have to—” but I’m cut off.

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