Cabin Fever (4 page)

Whatever. She allowed a mask of indifference to slip over her features. “I’m the little girl who just pinned a big bad cop to the bed. Looks like you’ll be using a bedpan.”

“Genevieve…”

She didn’t want to hear him. If it wouldn’t have looked childish, she would have pressed her hands over her ears and hummed.

Instead, she went through the back door to the room that had been added on to her home. The large closet in there held the nursing supplies her mother had been forced to use at the end of her life. She fetched what she needed and returned to Alex. “Look at that, it’s pink too. Bet you’ll love that.” She placed the pan next to him and did her best to walk casually to the front door. “Have fun.”

“Wait, where are you going?”

She jammed her feet into a pair of boots and swung her coat off the coatrack. “Sorry. I’ve got other bodies depending on me too. See you later.”

“Genevieve! Genevieve, damn it, get back—”

The snick of her door cut off his tirade. A grim smile crossed her face as she envisioned him swearing at the door and then struggling to use the bedpan on his own.

What
, indeed.

G
enevieve expected
to return to a barrage of insults and a bed full of angry male. Instead, Alex was dead asleep. He didn’t even stir when she crept close to take care of his bedpan. Nursing her mother for as long as she had, the chore was just that to her, a chore.

She was still irritated with the guy, but her outrage had burned off as she stomped in the snow outside. To be fair, she had wanted him to look at her like that—she’d deliberately done something which would take his pride away and instill fear. He’d be wary of her now, keep his distance. No more of that bantering and flirtation.

Alex needed his rest so badly. She slipped out to the back room. It had been fashioned as a sunroom with a large closet on one end and a small bathroom at the other. A huge bag filled with her crafts took up one end of the beaten-up couch. She settled into the cushions and removed a half-finished blanket. She entered her crafting Zen mode. The silence in the small cabin was broken only by the sounds of the house settling, the wind rustling and the click of her needles. From her position, she watched the afternoon slip away, the darkness of night overtaking the darkness of a snowy afternoon. She snapped on the small lamp next to her.

When the sky had become pitch black, the falling snowflakes only visible thanks to the light from inside, Genevieve heard a slight stirring coming from within the main cabin. She laid down the thick blanket and made her way inside.

Sure enough, Alex was struggling to sit up. Just as she was about to help him, he managed to haul himself up on the pile of pillows. When he noticed her, his gaze was still a bit blurry. With the short strands of his hair sticking up and the stubble on his jaw, he should have looked crazy, not sexy. She waited for him to stare at her in horror, or call for her to be burned at the stake. Instead, he rubbed his hand over his face. “Did I fall asleep?”

“For most of the day.” She waited. Now. Now he would start looking for a pitchfork.

He shook his head. “I didn’t mean to. Is it still snowing?”

“You needed the sleep. And yes. Phone’s still out too.”

“I guess I did need it. I’m still tired.”

What game was he playing? Were they going to pretend she hadn’t messed around with his body? Well, that kind of didn’t surprise her. Most people repressed what they couldn’t explain. He’d convinced himself, no doubt, that it had been a figment of his imagination. She didn’t know if she was disappointed or elated, neither of which made sense.

“Genevieve.”

She couldn’t help but stiffen.
You shouldn’t like the way he says your name.
“What?”

“I’m sorry.”

She blinked. He was apologizing to her? “For what?”

“You know for what. I shouldn’t have said what I did. It was wrong and cruel, and I apologize. Can you forgive me?”

Genevieve studied him, looking for the catch. What the hell? His gaze was direct, his expression open. Sincerity dripped off of him. She couldn’t help but be suspicious. “What’s your angle?”

“No angle. I was wrong.”

She shrugged. “Fine.”

“Seriously. You saved my life, and I paid you back by treating you like I was scared of you.”

“You are scared of me.” She meant for the words to be low and a bit threatening, not the plaintive statement it came out as.

His response was instantaneous. “No. I was pissed when you did what you did, though I get that it was for my own good. But I knew from the start something was extraordinary about you, so I wasn’t completely blindsided. As I was lying here, my mind cleared and I was finally able to put all the pieces together.”

Extraordinary? “I took your strength away. Do you get that?”

“After you gave it to me, right?”

Yeah, that was the only way she’d been able to weaken him without it hurting her. If she’d weakened or injured him on purpose, she would have been charged a greater price. Still, he shouldn’t know that. “I’ve hurt people before. Your first reaction was right. Keep that in mind before you start romanticizing me.”

“You won’t hurt me.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I trust you.”

His words were so simple, they stunned her. “Why the hell would you go and do that?”

His brow furrowed. “I don’t know. There’s this…connection between us. Don’t you feel it?”

Yes. Hell, yes. “So you’re telling me on the basis of your…feelings…you’re going to decide I’m a trustworthy person. Despite the fact that I can do stuff that isn’t readily explainable. Is this how you do all your cop stuff?”

He smiled. “You mean, am I a naïve fool? I don’t think so. But I’m willing to bet my life you couldn’t hurt a fly.”

She froze. “Don’t.”

“What?”

“Don’t make that bet. You don’t know what I’ve done.”

He studied her, and his voice gentled, as if he were talking to a spooked animal. “Okay. How’s this? I bet you couldn’t hurt me. You saved me. You’re a healer, aren’t you? What else can you do?”

When she remained silent, he exhaled. “You don’t trust me. I’m really just interested. You know, I’m a Hispanic mutt. My dad was Puerto Rican. Mother is Columbian, Brazilian and Costa Rican. Our culture lives and breathes supernatural stuff. You don’t know how many stories I was told over the years about my grandmamma and my aunt. They were healers too.”

A spike of interest rose. She’d never met anyone, outside of her own family, with legitimate powers. “Yeah?”

“Yes. They worked as midwives. My cousin, she still lives in Puerto Rico, carries on their work. Though I don’t believe any of them are anywhere near as powerful as you are. They’ve certainly never saved anyone from a fatal injury.”

The admiration in his gaze was so unexpected, she didn’t quite know what to say. Nobody had ever accepted her. In high school she’d been the freak, in college and after she’d kept her abilities tightly under wraps, and when she’d moved back…well, that had effectively turned the people who’d considered her a freak into people who used her to scare their kiddies into behaving.

He must have mistaken her contemplation, for he lay back against the pillows and sighed. “Do it.”

“What?”

“Do it again. Whatever you did before. Make me weak.”

“What?”

“I want you to understand that I do not fear you or find you disgusting. I will never hurt you. I owe you everything, and I’m ready to swear on my father’s grave I won’t harm you. However, if you feel threatened or nervous around me—and don’t tell me you’re not wary of me—I give you full permission to make me weak again. Now or whenever.”

She stared at him, stunned. The fact he was willing to voluntarily give up his strength, submit to her mercy, for no other reason than to make up for her hurt feelings and make her feel safe—her, a woman he barely knew—it was just unbelievable. She’d never heard of such a thing.

She didn’t bother trying to see his aura. For the first time in her life, she wondered if she could trust someone from their words alone. “You mean that?”

“I would have died without you.”

All right, that solemn, devoted look was a bit too much for her. “You’re exaggerating. You weren’t really that bad off. If you were, I wouldn’t have been able to do a thing.”

“So you
are
admitting you did something?”

What the hell. His little-boy eagerness was so damn endearing she could barely resist eating him up with a spoon. “Yeah. I’ll admit it.”

“That’s…amazing. Have you ever done anything like this before?”

“Not of this magnitude. Plus, my abilities have been on the blink for a few years.”

“Think of what you could do for those who are suffering—”

“Stop right there.” She held up her hand. “You said you owe me, right?”

A guarded look crossed his face. “Yes.”

“I want to collect. I need your vow that you won’t tell anyone else about me. You can tell them I’m fearsome, that I can kill men with a single look, but not about the rest of it.”

“Why?”

She hesitated, but decided she could give him a little bit of the truth. “My safety depends on it. Right now, most people in your town fear me. They call me a witch and stay away. I’ve encouraged that for reasons of my own. If you blab that I’m pulling in strays and mending them, then I don’t know who would come out here and try to hurt me.”

His face darkened. “Nobody will hurt you.”

“The best way to ensure that is for you to keep quiet about me. You can say you came across an abandoned cabin or whatever you want. Just don’t mention me.”

“Deal. Though I will not consider my debt paid, since this is such a small thing.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s not a small thing to me.”

“One thing though—I’d rather you not go outside. Especially if you make me weak like I was before. Whoever shot me could still be out there.”

She stiffened. “You said it was a hunter.”

“What’s to stop an unscrupulous hunter from coming and poaching out here?”

Nothing. And if it was someone who wasn’t familiar with her reputation…aww, fuck. “I’ll do my best to stay inside,” she allowed. She couldn’t let the animals go hungry.

“Okay, then. Do it if you want.”

She should have been thrilled at this opportunity. He’d be alive, still healing, but no threat at all to her, physically or emotionally. When the phone came back online, she could call someone out here to get him to a hospital to receive proper care. She’d be on her own, the way she liked it.

She couldn’t do it, though. Couldn’t emasculate him like that. No matter how much he unnerved her.

As she stared at him, it was like a switch flipped in her brain. He wasn’t bluffing, which meant he trusted her enough to put himself at her mercy. Perhaps she could try trusting him back?

She hadn’t trusted anyone in three years. What a novel feeling. He had given his word not to blab all over town about her and she believed him. He said he wouldn’t hurt her, and she couldn’t see him raising a hand to her. Was she being foolish? Maybe. But she liked this, liked the easiness and lack of worry that came from being able to let go of the constant fear. Honestly, Genevieve wasn’t even sure she knew how to trust anymore. Maybe he’d been sent here for her to…relearn?

It was too much for her to think about all at once, the ideas overwhelming her. She broke their gaze and stood. “Are you hungry?”

“Genevieve…”

“Are. You. Hungry?”

“Please, yes.”

She crossed to the fridge and pulled out the makings for dinner. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast either. “Do you like chicken?”

“Love it.”

“Great. Just wrung this one’s neck yesterday.”

At his silence, she looked over her shoulder and slammed the fridge closed with her hip. “Is there a problem?”

He swallowed. “No. I wish you hadn’t told me where that chicken came from, though.”

“You mean this chicken?” She held up the meat in her hands. A little imp of mischief prompted her to speak. “Sorry, does it bother you that I pick it up from the pen, grab its neck and twist it until it snaps?”

Alex closed his eyes. “Actually, I’m not hungry anymore.”

“Where do you think meat comes from?”

“I think the meat fairy puts it in my grocery store.”

She laughed, a bit startled. It had been a while since she’d heard herself laugh. “Sorry to disappoint. The meat fairy doesn’t come out this far.” She proceeded to put dinner together.

When she brought his bowl of broth over to him, he looked at it with dismay. “Are you punishing me?”

She wasn’t that petty. Okay, she was, but she wasn’t mad at him, so no, she wasn’t punishing him. “You need to build your strength.”

“I’ll build it a lot easier if you give me real food.”

“You can eat this, or nothing. Your choice.”

He glared at her, but she had no intention of budging. Especially now that she had an inkling of what a marshmallow he was beneath his scary job and huge physique. Sure enough, when she started to turn around, bowl in hand, he breathed out a rough sigh. “Okay, fine. Give it to me.”

Alex sat up on his own and took it from her with ill grace. She returned to the stove and ladled some of the soup and chicken into her bowl. She ate standing over the sink. Blessedly, he didn’t speak much, as if sensing her contemplative mood. When he was finished, she washed both of their dishes.

“You don’t have any psychic powers, do you?”

She cast a startled glance over her shoulder. He spoke about her abilities with the same kind of casual tone someone would use to ask if she had blue eyes. “What? No. Why?”

“Guess I couldn’t be that lucky. I was just thinking of how worried sick my mom must be. She’s listed as my next of kin. I’m sure they called her when I didn’t show up to work, if not the next day, then Monday for sure.”

Her heart softened at the worry and concern in his voice. “You sound close to her.”

“My dad died when I was twelve. She raised us by herself. It was hard enough to move down here when she was still in Westchester. I can’t even imagine what she must be going through, thinking I’m lying somewhere dead.”

“My mom raised me by herself too.” The words slipped out before she could stop them.

He paused. “Yeah? Did your dad die too?”

“No. I never knew him.” Genevieve wiped her hands on a towel and turned around. “I wish there was some way to get word down.”

“Yeah, well. What can you do, right? Like I said, I’ve probably hit my quota for miracles this week. You know, with the gorgeous woman saving my life and all.”

Her face flushed at the warmth and clear sexual interest in his tone and smile, but she disguised her flustered state with a toss of her head. She walked over to her small cupboard and pulled out a blanket.

“What are you doing?”

“I need a blanket. I have a couch out there. That’s where I’ll sleep.” Their eyes met, and by the wicked glint in his eyes, Genevieve knew he must recall exactly where she’d slept that first night. To her relief, though, he didn’t bring it up.

“You’re going to bed?”

She shrugged. “I thought you might want to sleep. Figured I would read for a while.”

“Could you read out here?” He grimaced. “I’m not tired, and I think I’ll go crazy if I have to lie out here by myself. It’s so damn quiet outside.”