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
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.
“Sorry I woke you,” he said.
Self-conscious, she swung her feet to the floor and pushed herself upright, trying to smooth her tousled hair. It bothered her to think he’d walked right past her as she’d slept, leaving her feeling uncomfortably vulnerable. That was a little hard to deal with this morning.
Light filtered in through the windows. She could hear rain still falling on the roof, though the height of the storm had passed. She saw no lights burning inside, so she assumed the power was still out. “What time is it?”
“A little after eight.”
Later than she usually slept, but she hardly felt well-rested. “What’s it like out there?”
His response was blunt. “A mess. Lots of limbs on the ground. There’s a big tree over the road a few yards from the house, totally blocking the drive, and I’m sure there’s flooding beyond that. You’re lucky you got here when you did last night. You won’t be leaving for a while yet. No way to get down the hill in your car.”
Not promising. She moistened her dry lips before asking, “Is my car damaged?”
“A few hail dings. You were fortunate. A good-size limb fell only a couple feet away from your hood.”
While she was relieved her car hadn’t sustained damage, she wasn’t sure fortunate was the right word to describe her current situation. “How long do you think it will take for them to clear the tree from the road?”
“Them?”