Wait. No. No, no, no. She couldn’t like him. He lived in the middle of nowhere. There wasn’t any electricity in his house. He was clearly a hermit. She was from the city. She liked going out for dinner now and then. Really liked hot showers.
And Tommy would not be happy if she started dating someone else.
She couldn’t like this man—
Her inner monologue was cut short when the door opened, and she barely caught Riggs before he fell flat on his face. She wrapped an arm around his waist, and he leaned heavily on her as she led him back to the bed.
He lay back as soon as his ass hit the mattress, closing his eyes. Carlise shifted his legs and got him under the covers once more.
After getting a wet washcloth from the bathroom, she returned to the bed and sat next to him as she gently wiped his face. It couldn’t be comfortable to have all that dried sweat on his body.
Deep down, Carlise knew she wasn’t helping him solely for his comfort. This was probably her last chance to be close to him. Now that his fever had broken, he’d remember what happened and they’d go back to being two strangers. Holding her in his arms, calming when she spoke to him, relying on her for . . . well . . . everything, would end.
Things might be awkward and uncomfortable, and of course, he’d want to know what the hell she was doing out in the storm in the first place. She was dreading that conversation. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to warn him about her stalker. She’d just enjoyed not having to think too much about Tommy or worry about him finding her.
Being here, with no electricity, was so . . . elemental. All the bullshit waiting for her in the real world had been taken away. Despite her worry for Riggs, she’d felt relaxed and needed for the first time in ages.
Sighing, Carlise forced herself to stand. Riggs was sleeping again, she could tell by his even breaths and his slight snoring. She probably should’ve gotten him to drink some more water before he fell asleep, but going to the bathroom had exhausted him.
She went back into the kitchen and picked up the knife to finish making a sandwich for breakfast. She’d been eating them for the last three days because it was the easiest thing to make. There were a ton of canned goods in the pantry, as well as pasta and rice, but she had no idea how to cook them without electricity. She supposed Riggs must use the fire, but she wasn’t exactly sure how to go about it. So PB&J it was.
She’d just finished eating when she heard a strange noise. It was especially noticeable over the now-familiar sounds of the fire and the continuing storm. It was a steady beeping. Electronic.
Frowning, she glanced around the kitchen and didn’t see anything that might account for the noise.
Before she could find the source, the sound stopped.
Only to start up again a minute later.
Curious now, and determined to find where it was coming from, Carlise began hunting in earnest. It could be some sort of alarm, like a battery-operated carbon monoxide detector. The last thing she wanted to do was ignore whatever it was, especially if it meant she and Riggs could be in danger.
She followed the noise to the dresser along one of the walls and frowned when she didn’t see any kind of device sitting on top of the wood. She didn’t want to go through his things; that just didn’t seem right. Yes, she’d had to open the drawers while searching for something dry to wear, but that was different.
When the sound stopped, then started a third time, she realized she was going to have to invade his privacy.
Opening the first drawer, all Carlise saw were boxers.
Blushing, she shut the drawer. It was silly to be embarrassed about seeing his underwear. He’d been walking around in nothing but boxers and a T-shirt for the last two days. Not to mention, she’d been plastered against said boxers while sleeping.
She opened another drawer—socks. Then another. Bingo. There was a phone nestled among what looked like shorts, and she picked it up. It wasn’t like any phone she’d ever seen. It looked like something she recognized from pictures of phones in the nineties. The big, bulky things people used before cell phones became more mainstream.
For a moment, Carlise considered ignoring the ringing, now that she knew it wasn’t some type of alarm. Answering Riggs’s phone seemed even more wrong than going through his drawers. But the caller was clearly insistent. He or she had called back three times, and she had a feeling they weren’t going to stop until someone answered.
Looking over at the bed, she thought about waking Riggs so he could talk to whoever was calling, but he was still out of it. The noise hadn’t even made him stir.