Backwater by Kate Boudreaux

Author:Kate Boudreaux [Boudreaux, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gilded Press

CHAPTER 15

After a quick dip in the river back at Eli’s camp, I slip inside and tiptoe across the gritty plywood floor. He sits at the table with his eyes closed, listening to Keith Whitley on the kitchen radio. I watch him for a moment, the slight flutter of dark blond lashes in rhythm with his slow, shallow breaths. His hand is bruised and swollen from the fight, so I touch his arm softly to get his attention.

He flinches and his eyes fly open.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” I say, taking a step back. “I just wanted to take a look at your hand.”

He shakes his head. “I ain’t hurt. Just a li’l scratch. It’ll heal up and hair over in a day or two. Why, I’ve had worse on my …” Noticing my wide-eyed anticipation of the vulgar statement, he trails off and clears his throat. “I should go get washed up.”

I put my hands on my hips. “Not until you let me take a look.”

His mouth opens to argue.

“I mean it,” I say, cutting off whatever tactic of evasion he’s about to employ.

His lip twitches, but he leans back in the chair. “Hurry up, then.”

I take his hand in mine, turning it over to inspect the damage from the fight. I can feel his eyes on me as I inspect his bloody knuckles, and the knowledge makes it hard to breathe. Heart hammering in my chest, I clean the wounds and do my best to keep it professional.

Covering both my hands with one of his own, Eli puts a stop to my fussing. “That’s enough. Get on to bed now.”

Flustered, I pull away. But my foot catches a chair leg, causing me to lurch forward, only to be caught by two strong arms around my waist.

For a moment, time slows and I enjoy the guilty pleasure of being held tight.

“Aw damn. I’m sorry,” he says, releasing me.

He’s still covered in mud, and now so am I.

“No problem. I will … uh … go get changed,” I say, glad for an excuse to escape his confusing nearness.

The mirror in the dressing area shows the evidence of our brief encounter in the form of several muddy hand prints. As I touch each one, my chest tightens at the delicious memory of Eli’s possessive grip.

Outdone with myself, I splash cold water on my face and stare at my reflection. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I whisper. “A few more days and he won’t even remember your name. Act like a damn professional.”

When I step from behind the curtain, I’m relieved to see that Eli is gone, no doubt taking a bath himself.

I scurry up the ladder and face the wall, lest he decide to walk in stark naked and shatter my dwindling self-restraint.

When I hear his bunk creak a little while later, I flip over and stare at the ceiling, trying hard to picture Jeffrey’s face instead of the man beneath me. He never responded to my last text and I can’t figure out why.

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