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Chapter Eleven
Jonathan yanked theblanket from the wooden rack and tossed it to the floor. Sparks hit his bare skin, and a flaming chunk of stuffing landed on his hand, burning partway through his gauze before he could shake it off.
“Here.” Bailey slid him the throw rug from next to the bed.
Within moments, he beat back the fire, until the quilt was nothing but a charred and melted shell in the middle of a scorch mark. Heavy smoke stung his eyes.
Bailey coughed until it sounded like she might evict a lung.
He wrapped an arm around her waist and guided them back downstairs.
They couldn’t open the windows in this weather or turn on any fans without power, but at least most of the dense air stayed upstairs, and Lucifer had beaten a hasty retreat to the kitchen table. He looked Bailey over. Ash smudged her nose, her bare arms, and her stomach. He was probably an even bigger mess. Something about the thought drew a laugh from him, and once he started chuckling, he couldn’t stop.
“Care to share with the group?” Bailey’s voice was hoarse.
He dragged in a few deep breaths and swallowed the amusement. “I think—given the number of disasters in the last forty-eight hours that led to one or both of us being wet, burned, or covered in sludge—we may be better off spending the rest of my visit naked.”
“I wouldn’t complain”—she trailed her gaze over him with an attention that threatened to make him hard again—“but it’s only fair if both of us are doing it.”
He pulled her close again, wishing he had shed his clothes too. Marveling at the sensation of her soft body pressed against his, he kissed her forehead.
“I don’t want to get splinters in my butt.” She draped her arms around his neck.
“We’re done in the attic, and all the other floors are polished. No worries there.”
“One worry.” She buried her face in his chest, muffling her voice. “You’re distracting, and we’re still on a schedule.”
The schedule. Right. The same one that meant he was heading back home in less than a week. For the first time since arriving here, he wasn’t in such a hurry to leave. The pressing desire to get back to the office was still there, but leaving Bailey behind...
Was exactly what he needed to do. It was a good reminder this entire thing was a means to close the door on his past. The house, the possessions, the fun with Bailey—he needed to enjoy it now, because it wasn’t his to keep. In a week he’d be back in L.A., she’d stay here, and life would return to what it should be. What it was always meant to be.
* * * *
THE LIGHTS WERE STILLout the next morning. Bailey wasn’t surprised. With mainland transportation cut off, and the horrific conditions, no one was worried about a little substation that serviced such a small population.
Not that she was complaining; the company was good. She snuggled back into Jonathan and pulled his arm more tightly around her. She slept well despite the lingering smell of smoke, and having him there made the couch feel comfortable. She didn’t know if she was relieved or just a little disappointed they found their way into some clothes before falling asleep last night.
“Morning.” He moved his lips against her hair.
