Page 17 of The Outpost (Jamison Valley 4)
“So really, what happens when all this stuff runs out?”
“You are going to be on your own at times. I’ll have to get back to town for work but I’ll come up every other week or so and bring you groceries.”
“Right.” An uneasy feeling rolled in my stomach. I knew Beau couldn’t hide out with me forever but the reality that I’d be alone here was unnerving.
“Here,” he said, handing me my breakfast. “Eat that and stop worrying. You won’t be alone for long.”
“Uh-huh.” One day alone would be too long. A couple of weeks? I’d be crawling out of my skin. What I really needed was the internet. If I could just find out whether the Federovs had been immobilized by the FBI, then this nightmare would end and I could go home.
Beau left me to my granola bar while he disappeared into the bathroom with some cleaning supplies he’d unearthed from under the kitchen sink.
When he was done, he offered me the shower but I opted to help clean first. We spent the afternoon working our way from one side of the outpost to the other. Though the space was small, it took a while to sweep and mop the dusty floors, wipe down the windows and sanitize the kitchen.
But once it was clean, the place wasn’t all bad.
While Beau stocked the refrigerator and freezer, I washed the pots, pans and dishes that had been collecting dust in the kitchen’s cabinets. While everything was drying, Beau and I started unloading the dry goods.
“I don’t suppose there’s a washer-dryer hiding somewhere aro
und here?” I took the box of rice Beau was handing up to me from his crouched position by a plastic tub.
He shook his head. “You’ll have to hand-wash your stuff. I can take laundry back and forth to town though.”
“Okay. I’m gaining a new appreciation for modern appliances.”
“That’s not a bad thing.” He tossed me a loaf of bread. “I like that about roughing it from time to time. Makes you glad to be home.”
I missed home. “Once I get back to the city, I don’t know if I’ll ever leave again.”
Holding out my hand while shuffling boxes in the cupboard, I waited for Beau’s next deposit but it never came. He was staring, unfocused, at a bag of pasta.
“Beau?” I called.
His eyes snapped to mine and he shook his head out of wherever his thoughts had gone. “Here.” He set the last few items on the counter and stood, disappearing outside with the now-empty tub.
“Ooh-kaay.” What had that been all about?
I went back to unpacking, organizing the cramped kitchen as best I could. Beau came back inside and dragged over another tub, setting its contents on the counter in silence. I decided to give him a bit more space and turned to leave the kitchen but my bad ankle gave out.
Stumbling to the side, I braced for a hard collision with the floor but Beau rescued me first. He caught me around the waist and spun me so quickly I ended up cradled between his knees. My heaving chest pressed up against his. His soft beard just centimeters away from my forehead.
Tipping up my chin, I looked into his eyes but didn’t make a move to leave his lap or strong arms. I just wanted to savor this fleeting moment for a few more seconds. Then I’d let him go and resign myself to putting some barriers up to block our magnetic connection.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
I shook my head but couldn’t break from his gaze. Those stormy ocean pools were as dangerous as the undertow.
The intensity of his stare snapped and in one powerful movement, he picked us both up off the floor. When I was steady on my feet, he took a step away, running a hand over his beard and then raking it through his hair.
“I’m just going to lay it out there,” he said. “You’re beautiful.”
Those words, ones that should have elicited a beaming smile, made me brace. His tone was dreadfully serious. The next statement was certain to ruin his pretty words.
“We’re from two different worlds. Let’s not get wrapped up in this physical connection, or whatever this is, and do something stupid.”
“Sure,” I said, swallowing my disappointment. “I agree.”
He was right, obviously. Beau was the type of man who needed someone with much less baggage than I was carting around. Nothing could happen between us. A fling would certainly lead to disaster.
