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I whimper again when the noise resumes. Without hesitating, I run to the kitchen and grab Sawyer’s business card.
I toy with it, flicking the corner of the paper as I wait in suspense for the sound to come back. Maybe it’s gone. Maybe it’s—
The cranking thumps louder, and I hold my breath as I call Sawyer.
He did say to call if I needed help…
Chapter 10
Sawyer
I have to wonder what she needs this time. Claire just called me, and with the desperation in her tone, I know she’s looking for another rescue from a slight issue with the cabin. Something about a sound in the basement, but I’m not too worried. When I was there to check the circuit box and repaired that wiring, I gave the underbelly of the cabin a quick look. No obvious holes for vermin to come in. No strange cracks or leaks that stood out. I’ve never needed to dabble with home-inspection services, but since I was there, I gave it a quick look.
I yawn as I get in my truck to drive over, curious, to say the least, but not worried. I imagine she’ll be tracking each minute it takes for me to arrive, and even though I warned her that I was about twenty minutes away at my home, she’s going to be one of those impatient people who obsess about the timing and hold a slight minute over as a grievance forever.
I should be amused about it all. Whatever is making those noises is probably nothing worrisome, but to a city girl like her who’s never had to deal with any maintenance or repairs of anything at all, it probably seems like the world is ending for her. It’s just another way I can see the differences between us. A woman used to living further from civilization wouldn’t freak out like this. A small-town woman could rationalize that something needed to be looked at in the morning. But not Claire. She didn’t insist that I come right away, but she asked. Nicely. And I’m just enough of a sucker to want to give in when she’s begging and pleading, so clearly needing me.
My younger brother, Kevin, used to give me so much crap about having a hero complex. He’d tease that I wanted to save everyone and deliver on every promise made. That being a “simple” minded man who works with his hands, that’s all I would ever have going for me. When he made those jabs and insulted me like that, it was when my high school girlfriend tried to two-time us. She was with me but broke up with me to hit on him. Then, when she grew bored of him, she’d end it with him and wanted me back. If I hadn’t been so young and stupid, I wouldn’t have entertained any of it, but I was just that, young and stupid, and Kevin’s words hurt just like he knew they would.
I could just see it now. Kevin would see me hurrying to Claire’s cabin because I wouldn’t know how to impress her in any other way than to “save” her. It was bullshit, but the thought struck me as I pulled up to her cabin and approached her door.
Why was I rushing to help her?
Why did I have to be so aware of her when I know she’s my opposite?
I don’t have a chance to knock on the door. She must have been looking out for me, because by the time I step onto her porch, the door flies open.
And there she is.
Damn, girl.
Last time, when I gave her those shoes, she wore a thick, plush white robe. Tonight, she gives me a peek at something else. In a short, silky robe, she taunts me to wonder if she is wearing a stitch of anything beneath it.
I draw in another deep breath, raking my gaze over her from her curly hair, down the robe she clutches together, all the way along those toned legs, to her bare feet. Hot pink polish glints from her nails, reflecting the light from the lamps.
“Claire.” I nod in acknowledgment, hopeful the next time I speak that it won’t sound so breathless.
She furrows her brow and licks her lips. “I think it’s a bear.”
She says it so gravely, so soberly, it’s comical. I want to laugh. It’s waiting right at the tip of my tongue, bubbling up my throat, but I settle for a smirk and roll my eyes instead.
“It’s a bear,” she insists, reaching forward to grab my wrist and tug me into the cabin.
I lurch forward, having just enough time to reach back for the doorknob to shut the door after me. I highly doubt a bear is in her basement. I saw no sign of one getting in there the other day. Unless Yogi Bear rented an excavator to drill his way down there in a tunnel, she is more likely to receive a bear visitor by leaving her front door wide open.
That push and pull makes me stumble forward, and I reach out and grab her arm. The shoes I bought for her are right there on the floor just inside, near the entrance. She hasn’t worn them. They remain as clean and brand-new as they were the day I delivered them. A small part of me worries that I was an idiot. That I never should have considered buying such a stupid, practical thing for a high-maintenance woman like her. I knew she probably wouldn’t use them. I haven’t seen her set foot outside for days. Unlike when she was spying on me and watching me from afar, my act of gifting her shoes made her do a one-eighty and stop looking for me at all. Which means I’m the one seeking her out.
I learned my lesson long ago. I won’t chase another woman with expensive tastes again. But here I am, falling against her with her haste to get me inside. If she were hurrying me in for something naughty, I wouldn’t be opposed to that. But she’s not. Her eyes are still wide with panic, frantic to usher me toward the imaginary bear.
That annoying need to please and deliver takes over me, so when I find my footing, almost caging her to the wall, I want to soften and comfort her. Against my better judgment, I want to soothe her and solve her worries.
“It’ll be okay, Claire.”
She swallows, darting her gaze all over my face. I don’t know what she’s searching for, but for once, I want her to see that I’m not here to rile her up. Not this time.
“What does it sound like?” I ask. I ball my free hand into a fist to stop from reaching up and brushing her hair back, and I can’t bear to think of releasing her upper arm. She sucks in a deep breath and parts her lips, darting her stare from my lips to my eyes. She’s still uneasy about this sound that she’s panicked about, but I might be distracting her with a hard hit of attraction, too.
“It’s a cranky sound.”
