He held his breath, hoping he’d have enough of a signal to download the videos from the hard drive. Thankfully he did, but it was super slow. In the past, that usually meant the internet would peter out completely. The fact that he was able to download the footage from the last few days was a minor miracle in itself.
After the videos downloaded, he turned off the generator and went back inside, leaning against the counter in the kitchen and bringing up the app on his phone. Nothing he saw in the videos made him change his mind about Carlise.
Scrubbing through the footage, he watched her help him to the bathroom and back to bed several times, help him into a clean T-shirt, fret over him as she tried to get him to drink water or eat.
And he couldn’t stop watching, over and over, the moment when she’d sat on his bed to soothe him when he’d called out in his sleep. The way he’d reached for her, even in his delirium.
The way their bodies naturally wrapped around each other as they slept.
It was no wonder she’d felt so familiar in his arms when she’d been on his lap. She fit against him perfectly, curvy in all the right places, and he particularly enjoyed how touchy-feely the woman was, how her first reaction to his nightmares was to try to make him feel better.
The truth of the matter was, it had worked. When she shushed him, touched him . . . when he was holding her, all the shit in his head quieted down, giving him rare and blessed peace.
There was something special about Carlise Edwards, and while watching those videos, Chappy decided he couldn’t let her slip away.
Maybe he was desperate. Maybe he just hadn’t had a woman’s attention for far too long. But he didn’t think so. If he’d met Carlise on the streets of Cleveland, he had no doubt he’d feel the same draw toward her as he did out here in the wilds of Maine. He’d been prepared to take care of her, to nurse her back to health after finding her in that storm, but the roles had been switched. She’d taken care of him perfectly.
And based on the videos, she’d apparently done it without an ounce of disgust or exasperation. She’d done what she needed to do for his well-being, and her own.
That was the kind of woman Chappy wanted. Someone who didn’t freak out when shit hit the fan. Who rolled with the punches. She’d managed for three days without electricity or any way to heat the food she’d found in his pantry. She eventually would’ve figured out either the stove or how to heat something over the fire. In the meantime, she didn’t bitch about the circumstances she’d found herself in. Carlise merely adapted.
Chappy also couldn’t deny the way she acted with the dog went a long way toward endearing her to him, as well. He had a soft spot for abused animals, and Baxter was as abused as any dog he’d seen in a long time. He’d literally saved Carlise’s life, and Chappy was relieved she’d gone out of her way to give Bax a safe space, to make sure he was fed.
Yes, all in all, Carlise was exactly the kind of woman he’d dreamed about . . . back when he still thought he had a chance for a true relationship. Being held captive had changed him, changed his outlook. Since then, all he’d wanted was to be left alone.
Until Carlise appeared in his life. Now, he already couldn’t imagine her leaving.
Chappy felt a little bad about the cameras, but he’d tell her when she woke up. He didn’t want her to think he was spying. They were just there for security reasons when he wasn’t at the cabin.
A noise from the living area drew his attention, and Chappy turned to see Carlise sitting up on the couch. Her eyes were unfocused, her hair was a mess, and her T-shirt was twisted around her so tightly, he could see every delicious curve.
“What time is it?” she asked groggily.
“I’ve made us a warm meal,” he said instead of answering her question directly.
“It smells good. Although I think at this point anything other than PB&J would taste like heaven.”
Chappy smiled at her. “It’ll be ready when you are. I’ll start up the generator later, but I’ve heated some water on the stove that you can use to wash up if you want.”
“Oh, I’d love that,” she said, sounding and looking a little more awake.
“I’ll just move this pot into the bathroom for you then,” Chappy told her.
Carlise stood and her brows furrowed. “Should you be doing that? How do you feel? Do you still have a fever? Did you take any Tylenol today?”
Chappy couldn’t help but grin. “I’m fine,” he told her. “My fever is gone, and yes, I took some meds.”