Up In Flames by Olivia Hutchinson

Author:Olivia Hutchinson [Hutchinson, Olivia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-07-01T16:00:00+00:00

8

Heidi reached for Liam as soon as she woke up. When she found the bed empty and the sheets cold, she sat up. The fire had died down to embers, the light in the room was dim. Pulling herself from the bed, she got to her feet and found the T-shirt he had pulled out for her the night before at the bottom of the mattress. The shirt fell almost to her knees but it was better than traipsing around naked. A minute later she left the room in search of him, the ache between her legs a constant reminder of the night they had spent together.

She found him sitting on the couch, reading a book. If there was anything Heidi hadn’t expected, it was Liam reading the autobiography of Vincent Van Gogh.

“Sleep well?” he asked her, setting the book down next to him and folding his arms behind his head. His long legs were propped up on the square coffee table, making him look massive. She was having an easier and easier time believing and remembering that he was more than human.

“Yes, better than I have in a long time.”

“Hungry?”

“Starving,” she said, her stomach choosing that moment to grumble audibly.

Nodding, he rose from the couch and she followed him through the carved out rock wall and into his kitchen. She sat down at the dark stained oak table and rested her chin in her hands as she watched him pull the plastic wrap off of a large white plate that was piled high with food. He put it in the microwave and filled a glass with water from the sink.

Candles hung from the wall and three more were lit on the table. “If you have electricity, why do you use candles everywhere?”

“I like the fire,” he said just as the microwave dinged. “I don’t like the harsh lighting of bulbs.”

The aroma of steak greeted her nose. When he set the plate down in front of her, her stomach growled audibly. It looked delicious. The thick cut of meat sat in the center of the white plate with scrambled eggs in a small pile next to it.

She dug in, conscious of his gaze still lingering on her.

“Why do you fear bees?” he asked suddenly. “I find it odd that you would fall off a cliff just because of an annoying insect.”

She swallowed before answering. “I’m allergic to them. When I was little I was stung. My throat swelled up and I couldn’t breathe. It took two Epi-Pens—two needles right in the thigh—before I could breathe again. I had to go to the hospital and I was there for a couple days before I could go home. So no, I don’t like bees but I think I have a pretty good reason not to.”

He leaned back in his chair as he surveyed her. “Are you allergic to anything else?” he asked after a minute.

“Seasonal allergies and some fabric softeners make me break out in hives. Why?”

He pushed the now empty plate away from him and sat back in the chair.

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