Page 81 of Dirty Beasts: Chance
I don’t have words for how peaceful it is. The only sound is the susurrus of the surf, a gull keening in the distance as it tilts on a wingtip just above the water, and the wind playing in the trees. I’ve never been anywhere this remote. I don’t think there’s anyone for miles in any direction.
I sit on the edge of the boat and twist, slip down into the wet sand, the water curling around my bare feet. I move up to Chance’s side, and somehow I end up leaning into him, his arm low around my hip, fingers toying at the hem of my shorts, teasing the bare skin.
“Thank you for bringing me here,” I murmur.
He huffs a laugh. “Been here thirty seconds, mama. Don’t thank me yet.”
I inhale until my lungs won’t hold anymore air, and then let it out slowly. “It’ssopeaceful.”
He nods. “My favorite place on earth, right here. I came here with mytutuand Aunt Lu a few times.”
“What happened with your aunt Lu?”
He shrugs. “I dunno, exactly. We spent some time together when I first came to Hawaii, but she just sort of…pulled away from me. She didn’t really believe in doctors or hospitals or any of that, and I think she was sick a long time before she passed. Maybe she was just…” He shrugs, waves a hand. “I dunno. Doesn’t matter. She left me the deed to this place in her will—it actually originally went to my dad, but he died, so it went to me, or…I don’t know. Back to her and then me? I don’t know. I just know I got the notice that she passed, and I had to mail out some paperwork to take ownership of this place. But I never thought I’d be here again.” He looks at me. “For a while, I wondered if I’d ever leave that club. You got me out of there, Nik.”
“Because my pathetic ass needed saving,” I quip, laughing.
He doesn’t seem to find it as funny, dark eyes peering down at me, glinting with intensity. “We saved each other, mama. You saved me every bit as much as I did you.”
I wrap my arm around his waist, rest my chin on his chest, and enjoy the feeling of being the small one. “Okay, Chance. You’re right.” I scratch my fingernails up and down his back lightly a few times. “Show me around.”
He tips my chin up and kisses me softly, quickly, and then gently pats my ass. “Good plan. Come on. You grab the duffel, I got the rest.”
I grab my cane and the duffel bag, and then watch, amazed, as he heaves the huge, heavy white Yeti onto one shoulder, dips at the knees, and somehow manages to scoop up the rest of the bags of supplies with his other hand. He strides easily toward the hut, as if entirely unencumbered, while I hobble far less gracefully after him.
And that’s when I make the vow to myself that if it’s possible to rehab my knee into increased mobility, I’m damn well going to, as soon as possible. I’m fucking done limping around and feeling sorry for myself.
This feels like another shift within me, leaving behind some old, sad, broken part of myself, like choosing the bright new future of what could be rather than clinging to the darkness and futility of what was.
There’s a few steps up into the hut, which he takes in two strides, and then sets the load of goods down. The walls are made of overlapping slats backed by screen netting, which can be rolled up and tied into place, or let down and tied down, with thick, heavy duty exterior storm shutters which can be latched in case of bad weather. Currently, the walls are open to let in the light and the breeze. It’s significantly cooler inside, with a breeze coming in off the water. There’s only one room—it contains a king-size mattress on a raised platform in the center of the space, freshly made with white linen sheets and a pale green handmade quilt. In the back right corner, there’s a small metal sink with a well-pump handle, surrounded by a short L-shaped span of countertop, cabinets built in underneath. There’s a two-burner propane stove, on which sits an old-school camping-style coffee percolator and a kettle. From the rafters overhead hang a few old, battered, but well-loved pots and pans. There’s also a very small fridge in the kitchenette area, and a leaf-bladed fan with a lightbulb over the bed, which I assume must run on some kind of generator.
He gestures. “Here we are. Rustic, at best. But it’s peaceful, and quiet. No cell signal, no TV, no past or future. Just you and me, here and now.”
“Um, yes, but…is there a bathroom?”
He laughs, moves toward the back of the hut, pointing. “Outhouse.” He grins. “It ain’t an all-inclusive five-star resort, I know.”
I shake my head, smiling. “It’s perfect. Outhouses don’t bother me too much, as long as nothing climbs up and bites me in the ass.”
He laughs. “Nah. Like I said, we got a guy who lives here on the island. There’s a little track you can use to get here. Thomas comes every couple weeks to check on things, make sure the generator is fueled up and working, make sure the outhouse is nice and tidy. I emailed him to make sure he checked up on it for us.” He points to the wall where the kitchenette is—such as it is. “There’s an outdoor shower, too. Once I fire up the generator, we’ve got a little hot water tank that mixes with the well. You gotta keep it short, but you can get a good five minutes of hot water out of it.”
“Wow, that’s fancy,” I say. “This place is amazing, Chance.”
He nods, proud. “Been in my family for a long, long time. Everybody who’s owned it has done something to improve it, but being that we’re way out here, there’s limitations. Won’t ever be electricity or plumbing or internet.” He shrugs. “I guess you could maybe get one of those new portable satellite things for internet if you really wanted, but I guess I like it this way. Makes it a real getaway from life, you know? I don’t wanna know nothin’ about nothin’ but sittin’ my ass on the beach, surfing, sleeping…” he gives me a broad, suggestive wink, “gettin’ it on with my lady.”
“It’s perfect.” Ridiculously, childishly, embarrassingly, I feel myself blushing at his last statement.
He touches my cheek with his thumb. “Ah, god, you’re blushing?” His grin is hot, teasing. “I dunno how, but you manage to be cute and fuckin’ sexy as hell at the same time.”
I frown up at him. “Cute?”
His big, hard, rough, strong hands frame my face, thumbs brushing over my lips in that gesture of his, which always makes my heart flip and my chest ache. “Yeah. Cute. Adorable. So fuckin’ unbearably goddamn cute it makes it hard to breathe.” My pulse hammers as his hands slide down to cup my neck, thumbs now ghosting over my throat in an exquisitely gentle touch. “And then at the same time, you’re so fuckin’ sexy, so hot, I don’t know what to do with myself around you. Never in my life have I known a woman like you, Annika Scott. You turn me on in a way there ain’t a chance in hell of ever turnin’ me off.”
“Chance…” I breathe.
“I fuckin’ need you more than I need my next breath.”
Now that we’re here, alone, with no possibility of interruptions, the prospect of being laid totally bare for him, of being held, touched, fucked…loved…it’s overwhelming. I can’t breathe. I’m frozen in place even as my cheeks flame and my core goes molten. My pulse pounds so hard and so loud in my ears it’s all I can hear. My hands shake. I can’t look away from his fiery, fierce, unrelenting gaze.