Visions (Cainsville #2)(71)

He made it first, entering the code before it went off.

“I thought you’d changed your mind and gone home,” she said. “I was just going to throw the bolt. Is everything okay?”

“I stepped out for some air. Did I wake you?”

She shook her head. “Something . . .”

He tensed. “You heard something?”

She waved off his concern. “No, no. You’re okay, then?”

“I am.”

“I’m sure that sofa isn’t very comfortable. That might be why you aren’t sleeping. If you’d like to leave . . .”

He searched her face for a sign that she wanted him gone. He knew he wouldn’t find one. Even when she was annoyed with him, she never seemed to really want him gone. Still, he looked. He probably always would, watching for that signal that he wasn’t wanted, and if he sensed that, he’d be out the door before she could say goodbye.

“I’m fine on the sofa,” he said.

A smile, sleepy but genuine. Happy that he was staying.

“Go on,” he said, waving toward her room.

Another smile as she retreated. “Good night, Gabriel. Sleep well.”

“I will.”





CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT


I served Gabriel breakfast the next day—Larry cooked it; I just served. Once Gabriel left, I stepped outside to call Ricky.

“What time do you start work tomorrow?” he asked.

“Ten. Gabriel has a morning appointment and doesn’t need me there until then.”

“Perfect. I have class at ten. How about an overnight trip to Wisconsin? We have a cabin up there. Monday nights are quiet, and the forecast is clear.”

“Sounds good. Are we riding up?”

“I figured you might want the car for this one. It’s almost two hours from Cainsville. A bit long for a bike if you’re not used to it. I imagine you were a little sore after the other day.”

“A little. But I don’t think it was the bike.”

He laughed.

“Either way, I’m not complaining,” I said.

“Are you sure? I could slow down.” He paused. “The bike, at least. I’m not sure about the rest.”

“I’m not even sure about the bike. You’re pretty damned unstoppable either way.”

“Mmm, maybe.”

“Bring the bike.”

—

I’ll admit that I’d wondered if the excitement of that first bike ride had been more about the fact that I hadn’t had sex in over a month. It wasn’t. The rush was still there, in every way, and we made it about twenty miles before pulling off on another empty road for another lust-fueled pit stop. After that, I changed out of my skirt and into my jeans and Ricky made me wear a helmet—he’d brought an extra this time—and we headed onto the highway for the rest of the trip.

Ricky had warned that the cabin was rustic. It was also a bone-jarring five miles down a dirt road that tapered to a trail no car could breach. While our destination wasn’t anything like the so-called cottages I’d visited growing up—million-dollar lakefront homes—it was surprisingly nice. A thousand or so square feet of log cabin with a massive deck. The deck did not overlook a lake, but there was a stream burbling past. And trees—lots and lots of trees—with no other dwellings in sight.

“Wow,” I said, leaning on the railing, looking out into the endless green.

Ricky came up behind me. “It’s okay?”

He wore the same expression he’d had after we first had sex, that uncertainty and doubt, his eyes anxious, hair still mussed from the helmet. It made him look deliciously vulnerable, and I pulled him over.

“Why wouldn’t it be okay?” I asked.

“No lake,” he said. “No swimming or boating. Definitely no jet-skiing.”

“Not really my thing.” I leaned back against the railing. “I like this. Completely quiet. Completely private.”

A hint of a grin. “It is private. No need to worry about the neighbors.”

“Not just that,” I said. “It feels like . . .” I looked around and felt the calm of the forest slide over me. “Beyond peaceful. I’m pretty damned sure I can’t get a cell or Internet signal. No need to check my phone. No need to feel like there’s something else I should be doing. A complete break from everything and everybody.”

“Except me.”

“You don’t count. You are the most low-maintenance guy I’ve ever dated, and this is the least demanding relationship.”

“I do make demands.”

“Sex would only be a demand if I didn’t want the same, which is never a problem.”

“I’ve noticed that.” He slid his hands under my ass, shifting closer. “I’m glad you’re okay with coming here.” He looked out into the forest, and something glittered in his eyes, a hunger, a yearning. “I love this place. When I was a kid, my dad had to mark our weekends here on the calendar so I’d stop bugging him about when we were going. I still bugged, because it was never often enough. I’d spend hours out there, tramping through the woods. It was like Disney World for me.”

“No place like it on earth?”