Page 8 of Double Take (Cosmic Mates #5)

Her entire body ached. Her head hurt, too, and somebody kept jostling her—and spraying water in her face. She turned her head away from the annoyance—to press against a warm, damp, hard…shoulder? Faith’s eyes flew open to dusky light. Strong, hard male arms held her against a broad chest covered by heavy fabric.

She raised her head to catch a glimpse of her husband’s scruffy square jaw. Mark? Wh-what?

“Thank goodness.” The arms around her tightened. “How are you feeling?”

John. Fogginess dissipated. “Like I crashed into a tree.” She remembered the deer, the skid, the roll. And the precipitating transformation that diverted her attention. An insidious little thought slipped out of the shadows. If John could transform himself into Mark, couldn’t Mark transform himself into John? What if he had been messing with her all along?

“No tree,” he said. “But we did quite a roll.”

He couldn’t fool Rusty. And he ate the nuts.

But Rusty had never met Mark. And what if he’d dosed himself with epinephrine?

That’s elaborate, even for Mark.

More than the clone story?

The water sprinkling her face was rain. He was carrying her uphill through the rain. Crazy ideas faded away, and she got a wild urge—to just relax against him.

“I can walk,” she said.

“Not yet. You hit your head when the vehicle flipped.”

“Which doesn’t affect my legs.” Although it explained the knot. She touched the sore spot on her head.

“It can affect your balance. You were unconscious for a bit. You might have a concussion.”

“Is the vehicle all right?” The beater was all she and Amity could afford.

“I’m more concerned about you than the transport,” he said.

“I’m fine.”

“The roof is crushed. The hood, doors, and fenders are caved in. I had trouble getting the door open and getting us out.”

If the vehicle had sustained such damage, the pottery must have been reduced to dust. Faith moaned.

“You are hurt!”

“No, my pottery! It’s all smashed, isn’t it?”

“I heard breakage,” he admitted. “But some of it might be all right.”

So much for the craft fair—and the next one. And the one after that. She could make more pottery, but it would take a while to save up for another vehicle.

A temperamental spring stubbornly clung to winter’s chill. The only warmth came from his steamy body heat. She shivered. It was cold—and dark. She could barely see his face. “Where are we going? We aren’t anywhere close to a village.”

“Before we went off the road, I spotted a cottage. We’re almost there. Just a few more steps, to be exact.”

She craned her neck. “I don’t see any lights.”

“No,” he agreed.

“How do you know we’re headed the right way?”

“I have an excellent sense of direction,” he said with a slight boast, arriving at a metal gate. It squeaked as he pushed through and moved toward the dark shape of a cottage.

“I don’t think anybody’s home. The place looks deserted.” She eyed shapeless, gnarled forms that were probably shrubs. The garden appeared overgrown.

“Doesn’t look promising,” he agreed and stomped up rickety steps to a porch. “I’m going to set you down,” he said.

“Okay.” She needed to move under her own steam anyway. It was disturbing how much she liked being held in his arms.

He eased her to her feet.

A bit dizzy, she swayed. Instantly, he gripped her elbow.

“I’m all right.”

He rapped the heavy door knocker. No lights came on. No one called out.

“Deserted,” she said.

“Yeah.” He rapped the knocker again and pounded his fist on the door. “Hello? Anybody home?”

“Somebody would have answered by now—if only to tell us to go away.” Her shoulders slumped.

He twisted the knob. The door opened. A musty odor wafted out.

“Hello?” he called. “Nobody’s here. Let’s go in.”

“We can’t break in! This is somebody’s property!”

“You said yourself it’s deserted. Nobody has lived here in a very long time. We can go in, or we can spend the night outside in the rain.”

“I guess you’re right.” She followed him in. The interior smelled dusty and stale, and she thought she heard a skittering of rodents. But they were out of the rain. Shivering, she hugged herself. It was still cold.

He moved behind her. She heard the flip of a switch. “No lights. Not that I expected there to be.” He bumped into a table. He chuckled. “Of course,” he murmured.

There was a snap , then a tiny flash of light as he struck a match, and a second later, soft illumination lit the cottage. “No electricity,” he said. “But there are candles and matches.” He lit another from the first one, and the cabin brightened.

Candlelight caressed the angles of his face and warmed his gaze. In the shadows, he appeared even larger, fit and virile. He has to be in great shape to carry me all that way. He wasn’t even out of breath.

Stomach fluttering, she tore her gaze away to inventory their accommodations.

The stone cottage consisted of a single room furnished with a hand-hewn table, two sturdy wooden chairs, and a rope bed pushed against the wall. A mattress roll lay atop the rope lattice platform. The only other furniture was a large wooden chest. Even in the dim light provided by the candles, she could see a thick layer of dust coated flat surfaces, and she spied cobwebs in the corners.

There was a fireplace. However, the small stack of logs atop the raised hearth wouldn’t last long. She blew on her frozen hands. Fortunately, they’d only be stuck here for one night. Tomorrow, help would come.

She risked a glance at him. He’d removed his shirt and draped it over a chair back to dry. The sight of all that smooth bronzed skin further disturbed her shaky equilibrium. The whole situation felt weird. How could she be attracted to a stranger who looked like the late husband she despised? “You called for help, right?” she said, wiggling out of her wet jacket and hanging it over the other chair.

He pulled a shattered comm device from his pocket. “Tried to. My MCD didn’t survive the tuck, duck, and roll down the embankment.”

“My tech-tab was in my overnight bag.” Protected by her clothes, it might have survived the impact.

“I never thought to check your bag. I saw the house. I assumed we could call for help from here.”

“Well, crap.” She hugged herself. She wished she had her bag because it contained a change of clothes. She was soaked through.

“I’ll hike to the vehicle in the morning.”

“We can both go then.” She shivered. “I’ll get a fire started. I wish we had more wood.”

She knelt beside the fireplace and peered into the flue. Hopefully no bird or rodent had built a nest. She opened the damper to allow for airflow. The previous tenant had left some kindling, which she piled on the grate and lit with a candle. It caught quickly, and she nursed the flame with a gentle breath. When the fire built, she added a couple of the smaller logs.

“Excellent work! You’re like a pioneer.” He applauded.

“Necessity. I have a fireplace in my cottage. I have solar heating panels, but I supplement solar with wood. I’ve had to learn a lot of new skills since coming here.”

Mark would have made a crack like driving obviously wasn’t one of those skills, but John didn’t. He hadn’t said anything about her crashing the vehicle. “Let me check on something.” He grabbed a lit candle and stepped outside.

Peeking into the wooden chest, she was relieved to find bedding. They wouldn’t freeze tonight.

He reentered with a couple of logs under his arm. “We’re in luck! There’s wood stacked against the cottage at the end of the porch” He set his load on the hearth.

“Excellent!” She checked out the wood. It wasn’t rotted, which indicated it hadn’t been that long since the cabin’s resident had vacated—a couple of years, maybe? However, the firewood would be well seasoned and burn easily. They’d have heat!

“How’s your head?” he asked.

She touched the knot. “Sore, but I don’t have a headache, if that’s what you mean.” Her hip and shoulder ached, no doubt from the impact. In the light of day, she’d probably discover many bruises.

“If you can hold the candle, I can bring in more wood,” he said.

“Let’s do it.”

After he brought in a couple of armloads, they decided they had enough to last the night. He brushed dirt and leaves from his chest, and she tried not to stare. She’d always thought Mark handsome, but she’d never reacted so viscerally to him.

“Um, there are blankets in the trunk, I found.” She pointed.

“Great. Heat. Bed. Blankets—this is almost like staying at the Happy Night Inn.”

She chuckled.

“What’s this?” He strode to a sliding panel against the back wall.

“Storage closet maybe?”

He pushed the panel to the side.

“What is it?” She couldn’t see around him.

“A lavatory…of sorts.”

“Oh, thank goodness. We won’t have to use an outhouse.” Or squat outside. She hadn’t thought that far ahead, but she was immensely grateful for indoor facilities.

“They don’t really use outhouses, do they?” he asked.

“In some of the remote areas, they do.”

Bringing a candle, she peered into the lavatory.

There was a commode. A metal tub on a wooden stand under a hand pump served as a sink. A large bladder with a nozzle hung over a bigger metal tub on the floor.

“It has a shower.”

“A cold shower—unless you heat up the water first.” She pumped the sink faucet. With a groan, it spit out rusty-brown water. A person would emerge dirtier after bathing. She wrinkled her nose. “Maybe if we run it for a while it will turn clear.” She wasn’t going to bathe in or drink rusty water.

She surveyed the cabin amenities. A cabinet stood against the side wall, along with a short counter atop upon which sat another corrugated metal sink-bucket and hand pump. In the fireplace, she noticed a metal swing arm with a hook and a cast-iron pot on the hearth. “I guess they heated water over the fire.”

“Looks that way.” He strode to the water pump in the main part of the cabin and cranked the handle.

Taking a candle, she moved closer. Brown. Ugh. No thanks.

Her stomach let out a growl of hunger. If they hadn’t crashed, they would have been at their destination, enjoying dinner in a bistro or café. There were snacks in her bag, but it was in the vehicle. “I wonder if there’s anything to eat in here.”

She opened the cabinet door. Rodents had gotten into a sack of legumes on the lower shelf, but on the upper shelf, she spied several sealed jars. “Bonanza!” she cried.

“What did you find?” He continued to pump. The water didn’t look nearly as brown.

“Peaches.” She plunked a jar on the counter. She blew off the dust and squinted at another. “And…potatoes.”

“Do you think they’re safe to eat?” he asked dubiously.

“As long as they’re sealed, they’ll last for years.”

“Well, good because it looks like that’s how long it’s been here.”

“You can sample them first,” she joked.

“Gee, thanks.”

“We can heat up the potatoes in the fireplace.” She snagged the cast-iron pot from the hearth. “Let’s wash this out.”

The water ran clear now, so he rinsed out the pot, and Faith opened the potatoes and emptied them into the pan. Using a fireplace poker, she adjusted the swivel arm over the fire and hung the pot.

John rinsed the empty jar. “Now we have a drinking glass.” He filled the container and took a sip and then handed it to her. “Water tastes fine. Better than fine, actually.”

“Well water. I didn’t realize water didn’t need to taste like chemicals until I came to Terra Nova.” She took a drink. “We’ll have to eat with our fingers.”

He bent the jar lid into a crescent. “A spoon, madam.”

“That will work.”

“I’m assuming we’ll eat the peaches tonight, too?” he asked.

Her stomach growled. “My stomach says yes.”

He opened the peach jar and then bent that lid into another scoop. “Another spoon. Let’s move closer to the fire, where it’s warmer.”

“Good idea.” The fire was throwing heat, but the tiny cabin wasn’t warm yet.

After setting the jar of peaches on the hearth, he dragged the rope bed near the fire, unrolled the thin mattress, and spread it out.

“When you said move closer to the fire, I didn’t know you meant the furniture.”

“Beats sitting on the floor or standing up in front of the fire. We need the chairs to dry our clothes. I’m hoping by morning my shirt will be dry.”

He hadn’t worn a coat, so he’d gotten far wetter than her. But while her jacket and his body had shielded her from much of the rain, her shirt and pants felt clammy, and she didn’t relish sleeping in them. “We ought to drape the rest of our clothes over the chairs.”

“Much as I’d love to see you naked, I don’t think you’d feel comfortable.”

He desired to see her naked? Awareness and arousal hummed beneath the surface of their casual conversation and cooperation. Her nipples tightened, and not because of the cabin’s chill. She already had a good idea what he looked like naked, having seen her late husband many times. But as her gaze took in his muscular chest and biceps, she realized he was more toned and defined than Mark had been. Were there…other differences? She resisted dropping her gaze.

The chilly cabin suddenly felt very warm.

Maybe I am concussed. The knock on the head rattled my brain. “We’re adults; these are exigent circumstances.” Faking nonchalant confidence, she met his gaze, only to go weak at the knees at the longing in his eyes. Mark had never looked at her with such naked yearning. “We can...uh…wrap ourselves in the blankets I found.”

“We’d both be warm,” he agreed.

“Yes.” She already felt like she had a fever. “I’ll get the blankets.”

“I’ll get the potatoes. Looks like they’re hot.” Using a fireplace poker, he removed the pot of bubbling potatoes from the hook and set it on the hearth. A bland meal, but it would be filling.

There were three blankets in the chest; she removed and shook out all three, noting a few holes eaten by moths or rodents. They were barely large enough to cover the mattress, but they would serve their purpose.

She handed one to John, spread another over the mattress, and kept a third for herself.

Okay, this is awkward. Modesty wasn’t the issue—not exactly. She could duck into the lavatory to undress, but somehow that seemed more awkward, like making much ado about nothing.

But this didn’t seem like nothing. To shed her clothes would be to let her guard down, to be vulnerable. That felt momentous.

Act natural. She didn’t know what natural was anymore. Normalcy had gotten entangled with a false sense of familiarity and unexpected attraction. John didn’t act or talk like Mark—except for that frightening transformation in the vehicle—but the comfort and connection in his presence had to be an illusion due to his resemblance to her late husband whom she’d once loved. Didn’t it?

He’s the one.

Could she trust her judgment? Did she dare allow herself to be vulnerable? Did she dare to care?

Overthinking, much?

Ducking her head, Faith unbuttoned her shirt.