Page 15 of The Outpost (Jamison Valley 4)
“Night,” he said.
“Good night.” I closed my eye
s, willing sleep to find me quickly. Maybe with some rest, I wouldn’t feel the urge to curl up and cry for days.
“Tomorrow will be better, Sabrina,” Beau whispered.
I believed him.
Because really, how much worse could it get?
A loud cracking sound caused me to jerk awake. The sudden movement sent blinding pain through my ribs and I collapsed back onto my cot, clutching my side. When the white spots in my vision cleared, I opened my eyes to see the sunshine trying to peek inside. There were only a few windows in the outpost, one in the kitchen and two high up in the pitched roof, but all three were filthy. Their heavy coating of dirt blocked out more light than it let in.
Beau’s sleeping bag had been rolled up and stowed by the stove. Neither he nor Boone were anywhere in sight.
Slowly, I pushed myself up to sitting and did a quick assessment of my injuries. My face was puffy and no doubt an alluring shade of bluish purple. The lack of a mirror wasn’t overly upsetting since I really didn’t want to see how hideous I looked. My ankle was stiff and incredibly sore. The pain radiating from my ribs was excruciating and would likely kill me within the hour.
But if I died, at least I wouldn’t have to use the outhouse ever again.
I sucked in a fortifying breath and stood from the cot. Another loud crack sounded outside and I shuffled across the dusty floor to squint out the kitchen window.
Oh, boy. Beau, the sexy lumberjack, was outside chopping wood. The vision was swoon worthy. His white T-shirt strained against his cut biceps as he swung the ax above his head. When it came slamming down to split the log, his thighs strained against his faded jeans. The only way to describe his legs was beefy. Those thighs could no doubt thrust with incredible force and I bet he could fuck a girl into oblivion.
“Phew.” I leaned back from the grimy window and fixed my ponytail, giving my hormones a few seconds to settle before I went outside. I’d told myself last night that I’d eliminate sex from my thought loop and I had every intention of trying. But with him looking all manly and sexy? The struggle was real. When I was sure the flush had left my cheeks, I pushed out the door.
“Hi,” I called.
Beau’s ax stopped mid-stroke and he set it against a big stump. “Hi. Sorry if I woke you.”
“It’s okay. What time is it?”
“A little before noon.”
Whoa. I’d slept a lot longer than I’d thought I could. Once I’d gotten settled into my cot, it had been surprisingly comfortable. The heavy sleeping bag combined with the warmth from the wood fire had created a cocoon-like bed. That, combined with my exhaustion, had made me dead to the world for almost nine hours. I hadn’t slept that long in years. Six hours was usually my max.
“Have you been up for long?” I asked.
He nodded. “A few hours. I turned on the water pump so the bathroom should be working for you now.”
“There’s a bathroom?” I asked in shock. Last night, he’d said there was water but I’d assumed it was only for the kitchen sink.
“Yeah. Didn’t you see the door in the back corner?”
I’d thought that was another exit. The prospect of an actual toilet that flushed had me turning and practically sprinting inside. Ankle and rib pain be damned, this bathroom I had to see immediately.
Beau’s thudding footsteps followed and Boone appeared from somewhere to trot at my side.
“It’s not much,” he warned as my hand reached for the bathroom’s doorknob.
“Who cares? It’s not an outhouse.”
His chuckle echoed off the log-wood walls.
Pulling open the door, I stuck my head into the outpost’s bathroom. The toilet was old and the once-white porcelain had yellowed. The shower was no bigger than a standing coffin. The mirror above the pedestal sink was warped and cracked in one corner. The green tiles were about as clean as you’d expect to find in a dive bar.
Tears of joy filled my eyes. It was the most beautiful bathroom I’d ever seen.
“Thank you,” I said, turning around to Beau.
