Page 11 of Double Take (Cosmic Mates #5)

Bragg awakened to a dead arm and a cold cabin. The fire had gone out, and a sleeping Faith pillowed her head on his shoulder and arm. His entire body could go numb before he’d disturb her.

He still couldn’t believe what had happened last night; making love with her had been heaven, but, having sampled paradise, the future seemed bleaker. How could he bear to walk away? How would he live without her? He wished they never had to leave this cabin, wished they could stay here eating potatoes for the rest of their lives.

She hadn’t been wrong to compare Dark Ops to prison. Hammond had enlisted for five years, reupping for another stint prior to his death. If he’d still been alive, he’d have been free and clear about now. Not so his clone.

Clones served for as long as Dark Ops deemed them useful, and Hammond’s public death complicated Bragg’s situation. When allowed to part ways, he would still have to clear where he could live and who he could associate with. It would be more like parole than retirement.

And that’s if they released him. If he didn’t get killed first.

This time on Terra Nova was all he would ever have with Faith. Further leave would be very closely monitored.

She stirred. “Are you awake?” she whispered.

“Yes.”

“How long have you been up?”

“Not long. How’s your head this morning? No headache?”

“My head is good. My body aches like I tumbled down an embankment.” She chuckled. “Is it morning?” She squinted at gray light filtering through dirty windows.

“Morning,” he confirmed with a sigh.

“We leave today. If we can get the vehicle running.”

“I’m no mechanic, but I doubt that’s possible. We can call for help with your tech-tab.”

“Oh, yeah. Good idea.” The reluctance in her tone buoyed his spirits a little. She doesn’t wish to leave this cabin either.

“We have peaches for breakfast.” Her gaze alighted on the fruit they’d never gotten around to eating.

“We do,” he agreed. “Would you like a shower this morning?”

“I would love one—but not with cold water. I’ll wait until we return to civilization.”

“I can heat water in the fireplace,” he explained. “No sense hiking to the vehicle until it’s light.”

“In that case, I’d love a hot shower.”

“Your wish is my command.” He pressed a kiss to her mouth before slipping out of bed into air cold enough to shrivel his nuts. His blanket from the night before puddled on the floor. He snagged it and wrapped it around himself then eyed the fireplace. He’d never built a fire. On Earth, if you needed heat, you flipped a switch. He would hate to embarrass himself by appearing inept.

But he’d watched her do it. Live and learn.

Sitting on the hearth, he poked at the ash with a metal hook and discovered a few sizable embers. He added kindling then blew on the embers until the sticks caught fire. When the blaze seemed steady, he placed a couple of small logs atop the burning kindling. They caught fire.

“Good job!” She clapped.

He grinned at her. “I’m a quick study.”

Grabbing the metal pot, he headed to the water pump, stopping along the way to feel their clothing.

“Are they dry?”

“Dryer than last night, anyway. There are a few damp spots.” He set the pot on the table and rearranged the clothing to expose the damp spots to air, although they probably wouldn’t be here long enough to make a difference.

He peeked into the pantry and discovered several jars pushed all the way to the back. “Two more jars of potatoes and three more peaches!” he announced.

“Whoever lived here must have liked potatoes and peaches,” she said.

“Or disliked potatoes and peaches and left them behind,” he suggested.

“What’s not to like?”

“Nothing, but I could sure go for bacon this morning. Or sausage. Or a sweet-roll. Hot coffee—”

“Stop! Stop! You’re killing me.”

He laughed. “Sorry.” His stomach rumbled for the foods he couldn’t have, but if he had to choose between bacon and Faith, she’d win every time.

After hanging the pot on the swivel arm in the fireplace, he added a large log to get the fire burning hotter, spread his blanket atop the one on the mattress, and crawled under the covers to wait for the water to heat. He pulled her close.

“Your feet are like ice!” she exclaimed.

“The floor is cold. I recommend we stay in bed until the place warms up.”

“Good idea.”

In companionable silence, they held each other, listening to the fire pop. Her breasts were soft against his ribs, and he could feel the beat of her heart. He reveled in being stranded—thanking the deer that darted across the road—yet couldn’t forget how fleeting time was.

Her stomach growled.

“Sounds like somebody’s ready for breakfast.” He grinned.

She eyed the jar on the table across the room. “Somebody’s going to have to get those peaches.”

“I get the hint. That means me.” He started to fling off the covers.

“I’ll do it. I need to use the bathroom anyway.” She slipped out of bed. “Holy beejeezus, it’s cold!”

Not as cold as it had been. The fire had already taken the edge off. He tossed her the second blanket from the bed. “Wrap yourself in this.”

She draped the blanket around her shoulders. “Have some p-p-peaches.” She handed him the jar and a scoop and then darted into the water closet. He got out of bed and checked the pot of water. Getting warm! She emerged a minute or two later with the shower bladder, set it by the hearth, and dove into bed.

“Now, who has cold feet?” he asked.

“You didn’t eat,” she said.

“I waited for you.”

They passed the jar and scoop between them, finishing off the peaches. “You want more?” he asked. “Or some potatoes? There are those extra jars.”

“Let’s save them for the next guests,” she said. “I wonder how many pots of hot water we’ll need.”

“Two.”

“You sound sure.”

“I estimate the bag holds three pots. One pot of boiling water would be enough to heat two pots of cold, but pouring boiling water into the bladder without scalding myself will be tricky. So, two pots of hot-not-boiling plus one of cold should give you a decent shower.”

“What about you?”

“While you’re cleaning up, I’ll heat the next batch. The first batch is probably hot enough now.”

Pouring the water from the pot into the narrow neck of the bladder proved tricky until Bragg figured out he could use a jar to scoop and pour. He set the bladder on the hearth, refilled the pot with cold, and hung it over the fire to heat up. The fireplace threw good heat, so he moved the chairs closer in to hasten the drying of their clothing.

“You take good care of me,” she said when he was back in bed.

He would take care of her for the rest of his life if he could. “Anything for you.”

She scanned his face. “You mean that.”

“I do.”

“Why me?” she asked.

“From the moment I saw you, there was never anybody else for me.” It had been love at first sight. He would die for her. He just couldn’t stay with her.

Dark Ops would hunt him down like a dog and euthanize him. And her, too; otherwise, he would have taken his chances and gone AWOL.

“You’re an incredible man.”

“Yeah, I’m unbelievable, all right.” A replica of a human being, he loved a woman he couldn’t have.

“I meant it as a compliment,” she said.

“Thank you, then.”

“I mean it!” She straddled his lap and palmed his face. “Listen to me! Don’t you know how special I think you are?”

His breath caught in his throat as he read the sincerity in her face, saw the warmth and tenderness in her eyes. She means it!

“If I didn’t think you were special and unique, I wouldn’t be here with you. I wouldn’t have asked you to attend the craft fair with me, and I damn sure wouldn’t have slept with you or be sitting on your lap stark naked.”

“We’re not moving too fast? You don’t have reservations?”

“Yes and yes. This is all very unexpected and unlike me, but maybe I don’t want to be me anymore. I want to be the woman who met an intriguing man who turns her on and has the courage to act on it.”

“I turn you on?”

“You know you do.” She wiggled. “As soon as that water heats up, I’ll take a shower, and then I’ll show you how much—again.”

* * * *

While she showered, he heated water for himself. When she emerged with a seductive curve to her lips and a promise in her eyes, he rushed through his shower, making do with lukewarm water. Who needed hot water when he had a hot woman waiting for him?

Hot indeed. One bout of lovemaking led to a second and then a brief nap before they awakened and did it again.

Curled in each other’s arms, relaxed and sated, he reveled in the closeness. He hated having to leave the cabin, Terra Nova, Faith.

So, don’t. Stay here.

Her head moved on his shoulder. She sighed and stretched. “We’re either going to have to eat potatoes for lunch or go to the vehicle and get help.”

Staying here to eat potatoes sounded wonderful, but he said, “You’re right. I’m not sure of the time, but I’m guessing it’s almost noon.” Midday sun streamed through the windows to spotlight dancing dust motes. In the light of day, the cabin appeared even more dusty and dingy, but there was no place he’d rather be.

She kissed him and then got up to dress. He ogled her, seeing her nude for the first time in bright light. Damn, she was beautiful and sexy. Despite the passionate workout, his cock readied for another round.

He’d started to grab her wrist, pull her back into bed, when she said, “I’m hoping enough pottery is intact to enable me to do one day of the craft show—if I can get somebody to take us there. Amity and I will need the money, seeing how I crashed our sole mode of transportation.”

“Let’s go see,” he said.

She pulled on her underwear.

He donned his clothes. They were mostly dry.

When they were both dressed, they set about restoring the cabin to its previous state, pushing the bed against the wall, rolling up the mattress, and returning the blankets to the chest. They rinsed the empty jars and set them on the counter.

“Should we lock the door?” she asked as they stepped onto the porch.

“It wasn’t locked when we found it.”

“Right. And maybe we’re not the only ones to use this as a way station.”

“It came in handy for us.” He surveyed the landscape. Weeds cluttered the overgrown garden, the shrubs in need of pruning. Beyond the gate, the countryside appeared lush and green, the freshness of rain tinging the air. Hills, daunting in the dark, appeared much more manageable.

“The vehicle is…thataway?” She pointed in the wrong direction.

“If memory serves, it’s this way.” He pointed to the opposite rise.

She grinned. “You must have been a Boy Scout,” she teased and then sobered. “You weren’t, were you? You couldn’t have been.”

“No.” Scouting was for kids. He’d never been a child. Again, the reminder that he was a 3-D copy stuck like a knife in his gut. “But I received ranger training so I could navigate through unfamiliar terrain. I have a better sense of direction than Hammond.” He paused then attempted a joke. “And I’m better looking, too.”

“You’re better than Mark in all respects,” she said. “Your expressions are different, transformative. He was an asshole, and it showed on his face.”

Yet she’d mistaken him for Hammond when he’d shown up at her cottage. But how could he blame her? He was the man’s genetic double. He shoved his insecurity into a dark closet and slammed the door.

They set out, tromping across wet, spongy ground. Reaching the crest of the hill, they peered down into the draw at the vehicle on its roof.

Faith winced. “It took a beating.”

“Maybe it’s not as bad as it looks. We can’t know for sure until we get closer. Careful, it’s slippery going down,” he warned and took her hand.

At the bottom of the hill, it wasn’t any more reassuring. Roof, fenders, and hood had crumpled like paper. The windshield had been shattered, the doors dented—and that was just the body damage.

“Dammit!” She kicked the vehicle.

The door on the far side hung open—he’d forced his way out after the crash. Everything inside appeared topsy-turvy. “You wait here. There’s broken glass. I’ll find the tech-tab.”

“In a brown tote.”

He squeezed inside. It took a while to find the bag, which had gotten wedged between the other door and the seat. “Got it!” He passed her the purse. “I’ll check on your pottery.”

He squeezed halfway under the seats to take a look. Wooden crates lay every which way, tops off, contents scattered, broken pottery everywhere.

“Well?” she called.

“It doesn’t look good.”

“I’m coming in,” she said. “I want to see.”

He’d prefer she remain outside, but this was her livelihood. “Okay. Be careful.”

Moments later, she wiggled in beside him. “Oh no.” She picked up a broken plate.

“Some pieces are still good.” He pointed to a couple of intact coffee cups. “Let’s separate the good from the broken, assess what we have. Maybe it’s not as bad as it looks.”

“I left my bag outside. I haven’t checked the tech-tab. This vehicle isn’t going anywhere without a tow. Let me get a rescue in the works, and then I’ll sort.”

“I’ll start while you do that,” he said.

“Back in a few.” She scooted out of the vehicle.