Ningaloo Nights by Tracy Cooper-Posey

Author:Tracy Cooper-Posey [Cooper-Posey, Tracy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: A Sexy Romantic Suspense Tale
Publisher: Stories Rule Press
Published: 2017-07-13T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Four

Hunger woke her. She lay, pushing away the last tendrils of sleep from her mind and oriented herself. Her head was pillowed on Mason’s arm and his other hand curled over her waist. By the downward pull of his hand’s solid weight, she suspected that his elbow rested on the mat behind her. No other part of his body touched her—the day was too hot for that and neither of them would have slept comfortably. She could feel sweat under her cheek where she lay against his arm as it was.

The fire was low but had been tended recently and there was a big stewpot resting on a cooking stone. A mouth-watering smell drifted from the pot.

“What’s the time?” she whispered.

“Nearly four,” he said. “You must be starving.”

“How long did I sleep?”

“Three hours.”

“Did you sleep at all?”

“Enough. Lift your head.”

She raised her head and he extracted his arm, stood up and went over to the fire. He was wearing his moleskins again and she was vaguely disappointed that the fly wasn’t at half-mast.

But he was naked from the waist up and she contented herself with that small bonus.

“What’s in the pot?” she asked, her stomach protesting again as he stirred the contents of the pot.

“Crayfish stew,” he said. “I caught a couple when I went diving off the reef the day before yesterday. Didn’t want to waste ’em.”

“You cooked this yourself?” She sat up.

He grinned. “You don’t have to sound so amazed. No one else in Ningaloo is going to feed me. A-Grade bastard, remember?” He picked up a couple of bowls and served up the stew. “You probably want to put on your shirt, in case of spills. This is hot.”

She slipped on Mason’s shirt and did up the buttons as he carried her bowl over to her, sitting on a folded-up cloth. “Keep the tea towel under it,” he told her and put both the folded towel and the bowl on her hand. He handed her a spoon and went back to the fire to get his own bowlful and settled on the mat beside her.

She took a spoonful of the stew and was hit with a dozen delightful impressions. The stew was hot, both in temperature and with spices, which was unexpected. It was improbably good, the crayfish meat being sweet and soft and the vegetables a gracious contrast. The spices brought out all the flavors and enhanced them.

She finished her bowl before Mason did and burped, trying to cover it with the towel.

Mason smiled. “I’ll take that as a compliment to the chef.”

“Do that,” she told him and stretched. She felt utterly content. Even her concern for Pepper was momentarily held at bay by the knowledge that Mason would ensure she found her.

Sherry mentally paused. How long had it been since nothing had nagged at her? When had been the last time she’d had nothing to worry about?

Since Mom and Dad died. At least.

Here, in this most unexpected place, she had found a pocket of peace.

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