Sharon Sala - Don't Cry for Me

“Home sweet home,” Quinn said, as he pulled up to the cabin and parked.

Mariah couldn’t quit staring. All it needed was some gingerbread on the eaves and snow on the roof, and it could pass for a fairy-tale cottage from a picture book. The deck was deep and wrapped around the cabin on three sides. The railings were strong and sturdy, built for sitting or leaning. And just like that, all the tension she’d been feeling was gone.

“It’s absolutely beautiful,” she said.

Pleased that she hadn’t freaked about the isolation, Quinn relaxed, too. The first hurdle was over.

Mariah opened her door, carefully swung her legs toward the side, then slowly slid out of the seat.

“It feels good to stand up.”

Quinn quickly circled the Jeep and slid an arm around her waist to steady her.

“The ground can be a little rough. Hang on to me until we get up the steps.”

Mariah didn’t argue. The last thing she wanted was to bust her nose before she got in the house, although it wouldn’t be the first time she’d taken a tumble since she’d been wounded.

Once they got up on the deck, Quinn stopped to unlock the door. It swung inward on silent hinges, revealing a large open room with a two-story ceiling and a shiny hardwood floor. The walls were cedar paneled, and the massive stone fireplace at the far end of the room was a statement in itself. She could imagine being snowed in up on this mountain with a fire blazing and Quinn at her side, then shook off the fantasy. No need dwelling on things that weren’t going to happen.

“You must love living here.”

“It’s okay for a hillbilly, I guess.”

She frowned. “I wasn’t making fun of you. I only called you that because I…liked you, and because you always called me twerp.”

“Well, you were a twerp. Now you’re a corporal,” Quinn said, and started to tousle her hair when he felt the scar on her head and stopped short.

“Ooh, sorry. Did I hurt you?”

Mariah traced the crooked ridge of scar tissue with absent fingers.

“No.”

“How bad were you hurt?”

“Bad enough. It makes me nuts that my memory’s scrambled,” she admitted.

“But that means if I tell you that you always used to rub my feet and scratch my back, you’d have to believe me.”

She laughed out loud, startling herself with the sound. It had been a long time since she’d felt like laughing.

“Sorry, mister, but I’m not that bad off. I’m not the foot-rubbing, back-scratching kind.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Quinn said. “You were damn good at scratching certain itches.”

“And so were you, but that doesn’t mean we’re picking up where we left off, right?”

“Right.”

“So stop making me nervous and show me around, okay?”

“You get the fifty-cent tour, which means all of the downstairs. If you get strong enough to walk up the stairs on your own, you’ll get the other half.”

He proceeded to show her the bathroom, the little utility room next to the kitchen, then the kitchen itself. He stopped by the kitchen table to sort through the things Ryal and Beth had left for him, then moved to the sideboard and took a cell phone out of a drawer.

“As soon as I charge this up, it’s yours. It’ll keep me in touch with you, and you with the outside world, when I’m at work, okay?”

Another niggle of worry had just been laid to rest. “Very okay,” she said.

“I assume you know how to use a gas stove?”

“I can turn one on and off and I can use a can opener, but cooking like Beth cooks…no way.”

He frowned. “I didn’t haul your cranky ass all the way up here to cook for me. I just need to make sure you know how to heat a can of soup when I’m not here. Understood?”

She stifled a grin. “My cranky ass?”

He ignored her and led her out onto the back deck.

“This is a good place to critter watch or, if the weather’s nice, read a book.”

Now she was the one frowning. “Critter watch as in cute critters, right? Not killer bears?”

“Definitely not killer bears,” Quinn said, but he wasn’t entirely truthful. He didn’t want to scare her, but until the bear was found and put down, he couldn’t really guarantee anything. “However, you would be smart if you stayed inside the cabin or, if you’re out, don’t go farther than the deck when I’m not here.”

She shuddered. “Consider it done.”

He eyed the setting sun. “I need to unload the Jeep before it gets dark. If you want to walk around a bit before you go inside, you can hold on to the deck railing for stability. You saw your bed in the living room. The TV remote is on the table beside it if you’d rather stretch out. I’ll make us some supper later.”

“Do what you have to do and don’t worry about me.”

He’d started to go inside when, despite her words, she stopped him with a touch.

“Quinn?”

“Yeah?”

“I would never have believed when I got up this morning that I would be here with you before nightfall. The fact that I am is beyond amazing, and I want you to know how grateful I feel.”

He ran a finger down the side of her cheek. “I didn’t do it for your gratitude,” he said, then went back inside, leaving her alone.

She would have pursued the conversation just to ask him why he had done it, then, but she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to handle the answer.

Using the railing as he suggested, she walked the length of the deck and back again a couple of times, but as the sun finally dropped behind the mountain, she went inside.

Quinn was at the kitchen stove. A bowl of salad was on the counter, a pitcher of what looked like iced tea beside it.

“Something smells good,” she said.

“Hamburger steaks and fried potatoes.”

“Oh, my Lord, that sounds good,” she said. “I’m going to wash up.”

“Don’t dawdle. I’m dishing it up now.”

“Yes, sir, right away, sir,” she said, and headed to the bathroom.

She was halfway across the room when something hit her in the middle of the back. She turned, looked down and saw a wadded-up dish towel on the floor.

“Hey!”

“You’re dawdling,” Quinn said.

She rolled her eyes, picked up the towel and tossed it on the table as she passed.

Quinn could see the stiff set of her shoulders as she walked away, but he smiled as he filled their plates. If he kept her guessing, she would have less time to dwell on her situation. As for the nights, there was no way to prevent the inevitable as they slept. Hell was a hard thing to climb out of when your defenses were down.

* * *

One thing between them had not changed. Quinn knew he’d always had the ability to get on Mariah’s last nerve, and it was still happening. Before, they’d always ended their squabbles by making love, but that release was no longer available, and he found himself pushing and teasing to keep from taking her back to bed. By the time the meal was over and the dishes were done, Mariah wanted to hit him and Quinn knew it. He needed to disarm the situation and decided the best thing he could do was leave her alone.

“I’m gonna go upstairs and shower. Do you need anything before I go up?”

“Where’s my bag?” she asked.

“I put it on top of the washing machine so it would be close to the bathroom.”

“If I take a shower, will it use up your hot water?”

Quinn began to smile. “I don’t know. Wanna race to find out?”

Her eyes widened. “Are you serious?”

He shrugged. “I want a shower. You want a shower. I’m going up to my bathroom. You’ve got the one down here. I guess we’ll find out if the water heater holds up, won’t we?”

She didn’t know whether to laugh or light into him. “You have got to be kidding,” she muttered, as she swung her aching leg around and headed for the bathroom.