Page 18 of The Outpost (Jamison Valley 4)
But somehow, his rejection hurt worse than the kick Anton had landed in my side.
Day seven.
I’d started keeping a tally on a scrap of paper in the kitchen, otherwise, the days would have blurred together.
Why? Because I was bored out of my damn mind.
Every day was the same. Wake up. Take a shower. Do my very best to style my hair without a hair dryer, straightener or curling iron. Eat breakfast. Read. Eat lunch. Read. Eat dinner. Read. Sleep.
Without the company of Felicity’s Kindle, I would have gone mad by day four.
I had enjoyed the relaxed and sleepy pace at first. I’d lost myself in a few amazing romance novels and time had flown by, but then I’d started getting antsy. This girl was not made for sitting idle. My fingers were in a continuous state of twiddling, and every time I sat down, my legs started bouncing involuntarily.
I missed my job. I missed my city. I missed my apartment.
I missed my phone.
The phantom pains from its amputation were no joke. I reached for it constantly. Social media had never really been my thing but I’d gotten in the habit of checking it periodically throughout the day. I had used it to keep tabs on my brothers’ lives in Florida. To see what rumors the gossip rags were spreading about my favorite celebrities. To stalk enemy reporters at competing newspapers.
Now I was completely disconnected.
No texting. No Google. No online shopping.
Since my ankle had mostly healed, I’d resorted to pacing to pass the time.
That’s what I was doing now. Pacing. Eight steps to one wall. Eight steps back. If I went from the bathroom to the front door, it took fifteen.
And where was Beau, my so-called companion, during all these jittery steps?
Avoiding me.
He’d disappear first thing in the morning and come back right before dinner. Our evenings were spent mostly in silence. I’d read—or pretend to read while watching him from the corner of my eye—and he’d tinker around the outpost until he set up his bed on the floor and fell asleep.
Ever since his declaration that he had no interest in exploring our chemistry, things between us had become miserably awkward. Whenever he was around, I was so focused on avoiding his personal space that I could barely carry on a normal conversation. Beau must have sensed my discomfort too because for the last few days he hadn’t even tried to make small talk.
I had to break this silence.
Maybe tonight I should clear the air. Tell him that I was attracted to him but had no desire for a romantic relationship. Tell him that all I wanted was the elusive male/female friendship. Surely by day fourteen, my attraction for him would fade and I’d be back to normal. Friendship would be easy then. Right?
Right.
“Hey.” Beau’s deep rumble startled me. I spun toward the front door, clutching my hands to my pounding heart. “Sorry.” He stepped inside. “Thought you heard me come up.”
I shook my head. “I was thinking. What’s up?” I tucked my hands into the kangaroo pocket of my green hoodie to keep them still.
“I just finished with a project. I was wondering if you wanted to come out and see what I’ve been working on.”
“Uh, sure?”
His eyebrows went up. “Is that a question or an answer?”
“An answer? I mean, sure. I’ll go out,” I gulped, “there.”
I’d spent these last seven days inside. I wasn’t a nature lover, and without Beau around, I hadn’t wanted to go exploring on my own. The only time I’d ventured out the door had been to take a bag of trash to the burn barrel. Afterward, Beau had told me to make sure I locked the lid up tight to avoid attracting raccoons or bears. That had terrified me so much that I’d made it my personal mission in life to avoid creating garbage.
“Come on out when you’re ready. I’ll split a few more logs.”
I nodded and went to dig out my tennis shoes. The sound of Beau’s ax cracking through wood echoed off the walls as I bent to tie my shoes, breathing through the tenderness in my still-sore ribs.
