Star Crossed Hurricane (7 page)

No, you were given shoulders that broad just to torture me. Fate is cruel.

She blinked, trying to channel every helpless puppy she’d ever encountered. Finally, Sawyer sighed, pushed her out of the way, and rammed the door open with those massive shoulders of his.

“See? I told you they’d have no problem.”

“I’m not sure how I feel about this conversation,” Sawyer said, following her in.

The rest of the house that they’d seen so far was empty. No furniture, no decorations, no wall hangings. This one, though, was different.

“Oh my gosh,” she breathed, taking tentative steps further into the room. The floor was still intact, but the walls were black and the furniture was mostly burned, unidentifiable heaps. Until she looked closer, her heart dropping. “This was a nursery.”

Sawyer had wandered away from her and was on one knee, poking at something on the floor. When he looked up, he had a small, burned doll in his hand. “It’s like they just closed the door to this room and pretended it didn’t exist.”

She nodded, her fingers running across the edge of a bassinet. The mobile was on the floor to the side, and she had a horrible vision of panicked parents tossing it on the floor after it had fallen on their baby, flames licking the room around them. Her eyes burned with tears and she finally backed up, up against Sawyer’s chest. They left silently, closing the door behind them. Then she turned in his arms and sobbed.

He held her tight, stroking her hair, leaning his cheek against the top of her head. “Hey. We don’t know what happened. Maybe they weren’t here when it happened. Maybe they were on vacation and it was too much work to try to clean it up.”

That wasn’t what had happened, and they both knew it. But she nodded. “Yeah.”

After that, exploring wasn’t as fun. They wandered up and down the second hallway in silence, although Sawyer kept a tight grip on her hand, and she felt like, for the moment at least, she wasn’t fighting the world alone.

Which was stupid, because she wasn’t really fighting the world
at all
.

The first floor seemed untouched by any fire. The windows were all intact, but the floors were nearly overrun by vines, weeds, grass, all growing up through the floorboards, reclaiming what was theirs. “This, I want in my dream house,” Sawyer said, spreading his arms wide as they walked down the wide hallway. Again, four rooms on each side, and they looked up into the second floor through the square holes.

“The forest floor in place of carpet? It would be hard to vacuum. Or… mow, I guess?”

“Mowing is manly. I can mow.”

She snorted. “Manly. Right. I was the official lawn mower at my house.” She noticed that they both stayed away from the room underneath the burned nursery, and she was grateful.

“I’ve never actually mowed a lawn. We didn’t have grass in Texas. Just decorative rock.”

“No wonder you think it’s manly.”

“On TV, it’s always the man doing it. Name one show that has women mowing lawns.”

Savannah wracked her brain, but came up blank. “I can’t think of any
right now
. I’m sure it’s because of the bump on the head.”

He laughed, a sound that she would never, ever get tired of hearing. Sawyer didn’t laugh often. Mostly, he just chuckled in that way that melted her into a puddle at his feet, or he snickered. She spent a lot of time trying to get more than just a playful grin, and when she succeeded she tried to memorize the sound, to get her through until she could hear it again.

“Nice use of space,” he said, ducking into the little closet under the stairs. It was dark and close, so close that she was pressed up against him. He looked down at her, and she would swear his eyes dipped to her lips. Her blood hummed through her veins, her mind screamed and squealed and begged, and her eyes drifted closed.

But he did not kiss her. Instead, he left the closet, and then reached back and yanked her out, too. “Duck, Savvy!” he yelled, shoving her to the ground. He threw himself on top of her as the entire stairwell fell around them.

They were going to die. It would be her fault Sawyer was dead — and the world would be a much darker place without him.

It felt like the world around them collapsed and crumbled for hours, or maybe years. She wanted to scream or cry or something, but her body seemed frozen in fear, and she waited, absolutely silent, for death to take them.

“Are you okay? Savannah, are you okay?” Sawyer struggled to his knees, reaching for her. She sat up cautiously, unsure whether or not they were, in fact, still alive, and immediately started to cough — the room looked like a dust bowl.
I probably survived that collapse to die from asbestos poisoning or something.

Sawyer’s hands ran over the top of her head, along her face, down her jaw and neck, and while she was hyper-aware of the fact that this magnificent building was falling down around them, she couldn’t help the way her body reacted to his touch — even if he was just checking for injuries.

“I’m fine, Sawyer. Are you okay? You were on top.” And then her cheeks flamed, because that sounded so much dirtier than she’d intended.
Holy snowballs, floor open up and swallow me now.

Instantly, she regretted that thought, because this place might actually do just that.

Sawyer smirked, running his thumb across her cheekbone. “I’m fine. We dove far enough away that I didn’t get hit. Sorry I smashed you.”

I’m not
.

Her laugh was shaky. “It was very brave of you. I will do the same if or when the zombies and vampires show up.”

“I’d appreciate that.” He didn’t move, just sat on his knees, watching her. He was dusty and dirty and his arms were still streaked with dried blood from the window, but still, he was the most gorgeous thing she’d ever seen.

And she’d been around a while. She’d seen a lot of gorgeous things.

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” he said quietly.

Savannah was suddenly unsure whether they were talking physical or emotional. Maybe he did know how she felt. Was he saying he was going to hurt her and didn’t want to? Was he saying he would never feel the same way she did? Was he saying he knew how she felt and there wasn’t a snowball’s chance she’d get through this without a broken heart?

There was a chance she was over-analyzing everything and he just meant he didn’t want her to get crushed to death under the stairwell she’d just proclaimed so beautiful.

He cleared his throat, rising to his feet, and held his hand out to pull her up. “We’re not safe here. Let’s see if there’s a basement or something that isn’t going to collapse around our heads.”

“Isn’t a basement the last place we want to be? The whole house will fall on us!” She struggled to her feet, staring in horror at the devastation around them. If fate had been against them just a bit, they would have been under that pile of rubble. She started to shake, suddenly more afraid than she had been their entire adventure, unsure where, even, to put one foot in front of another.

It had only taken her almost getting killed to put the right amount of fear in her. She wasn’t her brightest, at the moment. She stared around her, panicked.

Sawyer misread her terror as disappointment. “We’ll have to explore later, Buttercup. Can’t have you getting crushed if this place comes crashing down around our ears.”

Lest he think her a coward, she tucked her fear way down deep where she could pretend to ignore it. “Can’t have me getting crushed? But it’s perfectly fine for you?”

“If you’re crushed, I’d lose my reason for living.” He blinked, as if realizing what he’d said, and quickly added, “And plus, if you’re gone, who’s left to protect me?”

She returned his nervous smile, mentally picking up her broken heart pieces and taping them back together as she backed away from Sawyer. “Very true. Lead on, fearful knight. Find us a basement.”

“Don’t you mean fearless knight?” he asked, passing her, grabbing her hand and interlacing his fingers with hers. They’d held hands like that a thousand times, maybe a million, but never without Beckett breathing down their necks. It felt terrifying and wonderful and bad, all at the same time.

“I meant what I said,” she teased. At his scowl, she rearranged her face into one of perfect seriousness. “I think this must have been the parlor. The kitchen would be toward the back of the house.”

“And we are looking for the kitchen… why?” he asked, detouring around what had once been the staircase to the dark, mostly hidden hallway.

“Look at these sconces. They’re beautiful!” She stopped, tugging him to a stop with her, and rose up on her toes, trying to get a better look. She could feel those gray eyes on her, and her skin erupted in delicious shivers. She glanced at him, saw him hide a smile, and said, “Basements are usually entered through the kitchen. Are they not?”

“Not in Texas. Mine was entered through a bedroom.”

“Well that’s just weird. Come on.” He chuckled as she dragged him through the dark, emerging on the other side. “This is not a kitchen.”

“Nope.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I think this is the sun room.”

They explored in silence for several more minutes, the only thing louder than the storm bellowing outside was her heart hammering against her ribs. She was also astounded by the forgotten beauty of this massive house — once obviously grand and luxurious. But that took second on her attention ladder. First and foremost, as always, was Sawyer.

“So… what’s in your dream house?” she asked as they wandered through dust and broken floorboards. Outside, lightning continually lit up the sky, seeming to strike right outside the windows, and with every growl of thunder, she half-expected the rest of the house to fall in on them. They didn’t get storms like this in Utah, at least not that she’d ever seen.

“Funny you ask — it’s actually very similar to yours.” He was watching out the window, too, his brow creased with concern, but his voice was calm — no hint of worry or fear.

He must have forgotten about the zombies.

“Log cabin on a lake. Fireplace in my bedroom. No one for miles and miles but the woman I love.”

Heaven. He has just described heaven.
And she would sell her soul to be that woman. Stifling a lovesick sigh, she stumbled through the side door and found her way to the kitchen.

“Right at the back, like you thought,” Sawyer said. “Smart girl.” And he winked like it didn’t send her knees crashing into her toes or her breath catching in her throat.

“I—I am a smart girl. Look for a basement entrance.”

“It might be outside. If it is, we’re stuck in here.” They both risked a look again through the windows, but there was zero visibility beyond the furious storm. She wondered if it was possible to drown in the rain. It wasn’t something she wanted to find out with personal experimentation.

“Agreed.” Reluctantly, she let go of his hand so they could search the kitchen. The floors were once hardwood, but now they were rotting. Her foot sank through one, of course, because she hadn’t made it clear just how very accident-prone she was yet this evening. She screeched as the sharp edges dug into her ankle, sounding very much like an angry harpy eagle.

Sawyer was instantly by her side. “Are you okay?” he asked, dropping to his knees so he could break back the board and free her foot. “You’re bleeding. We’ll probably have to get you a tetanus shot. And you’re lucky this isn’t my favorite shirt, or I’d let that blood ruin your running shoes.” Savannah watched him, intrigued. He rambled and talked very fast when he was stressed.

She pulled a face. “You’re very kind, Sawyer.”

He nodded, sliding his hand up her calf, checking for more injuries.

Oh holy snowballs. I’m going to melt right here on this spot.

His hand lingered, gentle fingers stroking down her skin. “I think you’re okay,” he said softly.

She bit her lip and nodded, staring down at him.
Please kiss me. Please kiss me. Please kiss me.

Clearing his throat, he sat back on his heels, tearing more shirt. “You’ll notice that I have yet to get even one injury, and you now have two. Remember this the next time you’re trying to call me klutzy.”

“Will do. However, I’d like to point out that you cut yourself on the broken window.” She clenched her fingers at her side, lest they gain control and run themselves through his hair.

“You okay?” he asked, ignoring her pathetic attempts at evening the wound score as he stood, hands on her hips to steady her as she took tentative steps forward.

“Yeah, I think so.” Plaster rained down on them as the walls moaned and creaked. “This is seriously not the greatest place to be trapped in a hurricane.”

“Agreed. Let’s find that door.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

L
IGHTNING SHOT THROUGH THE SKY,
thunder following immediately after. The house shrieked like Death itself was at the door. Savannah threw up her hands to protect her head as plaster rained down on them. “I think the house is going to fall in on us. We’re going to have to brave the storm, Sawyer. The basement won’t be safe if the whole house collapses.”

Sawyer shook his head, pointing vaguely at the cracked kitchen window. “You don’t understand how hurricanes work, Buttercup. There’s flooding out there. Mudslides. It’s
dangerous.
Haven’t you ever had a massive storm in Utah?”

She shrugged. “It’s Utah. We have the world’s worst weather for fifteen minutes, then we get the sun back for at least a half hour before another storm hits.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s normal? I thought you guys were just having a really weird year.”

She smiled, shaking her head. “Nope. It’s normal.”

Thunder shook the house again, and the already crumbling walls cracked. Some fell, others looked dangerously close. “What do we do?” she asked, unconsciously edging closer to Sawyer. He took her hand, running his thumb over her palm. It was only now occurring to her that they were in a very dangerous situation. She’d been so busy fawning all over the old house and the hot guy she was trapped there with, she’d completely overlooked the threat that they could be seriously injured. Or even killed.
Holy creak.