Chapter 11: The Lake Cabin

The key was under the frog, where Dot had said it would be.

The cabin was one big room with a stone fireplace, a plaid couch and a bed in the corner under a window that faced the lake.

Rain hit the tin roof so hard we had to raise our voices.

Jared lit the stove while I found the can of chili and a pot.

We ate it standing at the counter, out of two mugs, because we couldn't find a bowl.

"This is the worst dinner I've ever had," I said.

"It's the best I've had in a month."

"You've been eating out of the shop microwave."

"I've been eating out of the shop microwave for three years."

He said it lightly, and then his eyes came up and caught mine and stayed there.

The fire popped.

I put my mug down.

"You said something at the hospital," he said, low. "You said no patches. Nobody wearing the club's name."

"I remember."

"I'm not wearing it. Thirty days."

"I know."

"But on the thirty-first day I will be again, unless you tell me not to."

"Jared."

"I'm only saying it so you know I'm not lying to you tonight."

"Then stop talking," I said.

I crossed the floor and took his face in both hands.

His jaw was rough under my thumbs, and there was a pulse going hard in his neck.

"Mara. Your side."

"The stitches have been out a week, and I've got the surgeon's blessing to do anything I'm comfortable doing."

"Did he say that?"

"He said it in a different tone of voice," I said. "Kiss me."

He did.

It was slow for about two seconds.

Then his hands slid down my back and gripped my hips, and he lifted me against him.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, and he carried me to the bed.

He set me down on the edge of it and stood between my knees.

"Let me," he said, and reached for the hem of my shirt.

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