A Reunion and a Ring

No particular emotion showed on her face when she spoke, still without looking up at him. “I’ve gotten behind on some business and personal paperwork and I thought it would be nice to have a little time to myself in peaceful surroundings to tackle it all. I needed a chance to concentrate without constant interruptions, and it’s usually hard to find that back at home.”

Leaning against the counter, he raised his water glass and murmured into it, “I know that feeling.”

She glanced at him from beneath her lashes. “You’re getting away from everyone, too?”

“In a way. I, um, had surgery on my shoulder last week and I’d rather hide out and heal alone rather than be hovered over by my mom.”

Her full lips curved then into a faint smile. “From what I remember about you, that doesn’t surprise me at all.”

He didn’t want to discuss memories, good or otherwise.

“So you drove straight here from Little Rock?”

“Yes. It wasn’t storming when I left. I had hoped it would hit later, or maybe skip this area completely.”

She looked up when thunder boomed again, louder and closer. “Thor’s really angry tonight,” she murmured with a wry, somewhat nervous-looking smile.

A chuckle escaped him. “The myth or the superhero?”

“The myth, of course.” She gave a husky little laugh that echoed straight from those memories he was trying so hard to hold back. “And the superhero. I’ve seen all the movies, even though my, um, friend calls them cheesy. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy more intellectually challenging films for the most part, but I...”

She stopped herself with a grimace. “I’m sorry, I’m babbling. This whole situation is just so...awkward.”

“Yeah.” He set his glass beside the sink, his attention lingering reluctantly on her mention of a “friend.” Something about the way she’d said the word made him wonder...

He motioned abruptly toward his bedroom. “I’m going back to bed. Make yourself at home. We’ll sort it all out in the morning. You’ll be getting a refund, of course, for anything you’ve paid up front.”

Lightning zapped so close to the cabin he could almost smell the ozone. The near-deafening clap of thunder was almost simultaneous. He saw Jenny flinch, her hands visibly unsteady around the mug. Wind-driven rain hammered the windows, and he thought he heard some hail mixed in. The full force of the storm had definitely arrived.

“Do you know if we’re under a tornado warning?”

He shook his head. “My phone would sound an alarm if we were. It’s only a severe thunderstorm warning.”

“You’ll let me know if it turns into anything more?”

“Of course.”

He took another step toward the bedroom just as another barrage of hail hit the roof and windows. Hearing a sound from Jenny, he looked over his shoulder. She sat at the table holding her mug, her face pale in the circle of lantern light. She made no move toward her own bedroom. “Are you okay?”

She glanced his way. “I hope this hail doesn’t damage my car.”

His truck was under cover in the carport, but he wasn’t about to offer to go out and swap places with her. He figured she had insurance. “Maybe the hail won’t last long.”

“I hope you’re right,” she said, her voice almost drowned out by thunder. The storm was so loud now it seemed to echo inside his aching head.

Raising his left hand to his temple, he said, “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thanks. I’m okay for now.”

Nodding, he turned and headed grimly for the bedroom, thinking he’d better lie down before he embarrassed himself by falling down. He’d been assured the wound infection was not serious and should heal quickly with a five-day course of antibiotics, but combined with everything else, it was kicking his butt tonight. He could only blame that for his inability to think clearly about the woman now sitting at his table.

He’d been far too rattled ever since she’d tumbled out of the storm, out of the past and into his bed.

* * *

Jenny watched Gavin walk away. His thin shirt emphasized the breadth and muscularity of his shoulders and arms. His well-worn jeans encased a tight butt. At thirty-one, he’d put on a few pounds since she’d seen him last, but those pounds were all muscle. She saw no evidence of his injury from the back, which only enhanced the impression of strength and power. She waited only until his bedroom door closed sharply behind him before she sagged in her chair and hid her face in her hands.

She had always wondered how she would feel if she saw Gavin again. She’d hoped she would have enough warning to brace herself. As it was, it had taken every ounce of control she could muster to hide her shock and dismay at finding him here.

Gavin had certainly shown no particular emotion, other than the initial, understandable confusion when he’d first recognized her. Since then, he’d given no evidence that he viewed her as anything more than an annoying intrusion. Remembering how angry he’d been when she’d broken up with him, she supposed that shouldn’t surprise her.

She felt suddenly alone in her little circle of lantern light. A crash of wind and thunder made her jerk, almost spilling the dregs of her tea. She swallowed, squared her shoulders and stood to carry the cup to the sink.

Retrieving her bag and the lantern, she moved into the back bedroom, which was even smaller than the one in which she’d found Gavin. A full-over-full bunk bed was pushed against the wall, leaving little walking room. She’d forgotten about the bunk bed. Just over ten years ago, on that pleasant Locke family getaway, she and Gavin’s sister had slept in this room. His very traditional parents had taken the bedroom and Gavin got the sleeper sofa.

Which hadn’t prevented her and Gavin from sneaking off a few times to be alone, she recalled with a hard swallow. They’d found one particularly inviting clearing in the woods, carpeted with soft moss, serenaded by the sound of lazily running water.

The unsettling memory was so clear she could almost hear that water now. She took a step forward into the room and started when her bare foot landed in a puddle of cold water. Lifting the lantern, she discovered a steady stream of rain pouring in onto the top bunk. Another, smaller leak dripped onto the floor where she’d just stepped.

She raised the light higher, looking up at the ceiling. Another surge of hail pounded the windows and more water gushed through the leak above the bed. Obviously, shingles had been loosened or blown off. She rushed back into the kitchen, set her bag on the table and began to rummage quickly in the cupboards for containers in which to catch the leaks. Maybe she could save the wood flooring if she intervened quickly. She tried to be quiet, but pans clattered despite her efforts. She pulled out the largest pots she found, then tried to juggle them with a couple of dish towels and the lantern. This no-electricity thing could get old very fast.

The other bedroom door flew open. “What are you doing out here?” Gavin sounded both sleepy and irritated.

“I’m sorry I disturbed you again,” she replied over her shoulder. “The roof in this bedroom is leaking in two places. I’m trying to catch the water before it does any damage.”

“Well, hell.”

Moments later, he knelt beside her with another towel, though she’d already mopped up most of the standing water. His now-bare shoulder brushed her arm as they reached out together, and she felt a jolt of electricity shoot through her. Just static, she assured herself, scooting an inch away. She stuck a pot beneath the leak and heard the rhythmic strike of drops against metal.

“Should we try to move the bed away from the leak?”

“Nowhere to move it to.” He picked up the other pot and set it on the top bed. Now the water splashed in stereo, thumping against the pots like miniature drumbeats. “There are waterproof covers on both mattresses. I’ll strip the beds and try to dry everything tomorrow.”

He turned toward her, his partially shadowed face inscrutable. “Obviously you can’t stay in here. That dripping would drive you nuts.”

“True.”

He let out a sigh and motioned toward the doorway. “Looks like you’re sleeping in my bed tonight.”

Her heart gave a hard thump simultaneously with the loud clap of thunder that accompanied his words.

Chapter Two (#ulink_7a84d394-7160-5068-9850-7b7255a684ca)

Jenny woke with a start Saturday morning at the sound of a closing door. Disoriented, she blinked her eyes open, only then remembering that she’d spent a restless night on the sleeper sofa in the cabin’s living room. Gavin had offered the use of his bed, but she’d refused. She wouldn’t displace an injured man from his bed because of a mix-up that was no fault of his own. Not to mention that the thought of crawling into sheets still warm from his body had been disconcerting enough to make her toes curl.

Though the fold-out mattress was comfortable enough, she hadn’t slept well, and the noisy storm had been only part of the reason. She’d lain awake for a long time trying to come to grips with the reality that after all these years her ex-boyfriend lay only a few feet away. Old memories—some bittersweet, some wrenching—had whirled through her head, leaving her too tense to relax. It had simply never crossed her mind that she might run into Gavin at the cabin she’d only visited before with him. Some might say there was a complicated Freudian explanation behind her decision to come here to consider another man’s proposal, but that was ridiculous. It had been the peace and quiet that had drawn her here, certainly not nostalgia.

Gavin stood in front of her when she turned her head toward the front door. Dressed in a gray T-shirt, jeans and boots, he was damp and mud-splattered. He pushed a hand through his wet hair, which was so long it touched the back collar of his shirt, indicating he’d missed a couple of cuts. He still hadn’t shaved, adding to his roguish bad-boy appearance. Her pulse jumped into a faster rhythm at the sight of him. If she’d had any doubt that she still found Gavin strongly attractive, that question was answered definitively now.