Home > With You Forever (Bergman Brothers #4)(6)

With You Forever (Bergman Brothers #4)(6)
Author: Chloe Liese

“Is that why you’re here? In the basement?” I ask. “With a flashlight?”

“Dealing with major plumbing issues. No electricity on for safety, thus the flashlight.”

Well, much more logical than him being a murderer. God, I can be such a drama llama.

Opening the front door, Axel follows me outside. As we step onto the porch, then face each other, every thought evaporates. The evening sun bathes him in golden light as he stands tall, his face unreadable but handsome as ever—rich brown hair, sharp cheekbones, eyes dark as the rain-drenched evergreens around us.

He looks different than when I’ve seen him at his parents’ house, or—holy God—that one time when he showed his art in LA and wore the fuck out of a charcoal-gray two-piece suit—bright-white button-up, cognac leather belt and dress shoes, no tie…

Wow, I sound creepy remembering all of that, but if you saw Axel Bergman looking like sin in a suit, you’d remember the fine details, too.

Today, though, his normally tidy hair is going every direction, and he has a thick five o’clock shadow of stubble that makes him look surlier. There’s mud and water all over his jeans and boots. He’s not wearing a jacket, despite the cold, just a threadbare flannel shirt, its plaid print echoing our surroundings—cloud gray, sky blue, thin stripes that are wet-earth burgundy. His shirt’s undone four buttons, revealing a narrow wedge of pale skin, a dusting of dark hair across the shadow of his pecs.

Axel notices me staring, then peers down. Twin splashes of pink bloom on his cheeks as he swiftly buttons his shirt two more, until it sits open just below the hollow of his throat.

“So…” I fold my arms across my chest, as much to hide my body reacting to that peek of Axel’s skin, as to brace myself against the wind. “What now?”

He runs both hands through his hair and swallows.

I do not watch his Adam’s apple bob.

Or think about licking it.

Shit, who am I kidding. If liars’ pants really caught on fire, these stretchy palazzos would be a heap of ash.

He finally glances my way, his gaze barely slipping across my face before he turns and stares up at the A-frame. He clears his throat. “I don’t know. It’s not safe for you to stay here.”

I turn and stare at the A-frame, too. So much for a cozy staycation.

Tears well in my eyes. I’m beyond disappointed. And, as if I wasn’t already feeling miserable, a fresh wave of pain hits my stomach.

I suck in a breath and bite my cheek to stifle a groan.

But Axel notices. His head snaps my way, and his gaze meets mine so briefly, I almost doubt it happened. Except I feel it. A millisecond of those sharp green eyes locked with mine knocks the air right out of me.

“Are you all right?” he asks.

There’s a softness in his voice, a gentleness I don’t recognize that inexplicably makes me want to cry. So of course, I force a smile. “Yeah. I could just use the restroom before I get out of your hair.”

He frowns, glancing over at the house. “Not here. The water’s shut off.”

Another spasm wracks my stomach, the pain intensifying. I grit my teeth. Sweat breaks out on my skin. I’m too uncomfortable to be embarrassed as I say, “Can you…tell me where I can find a working bathroom, then? I need it.”

There’s a long, heavy silence in which I start wiggling my knees and take a slow, deep breath. I can hear Axel’s gears turning. He’s been raised too well to do something like send me to a gas station and tell me I’m on my own, but what else can he offer? Not that I’m even sure I’d make it to the last gas station I drove by on my way here. Let alone find it.

I look around, desperate for some magical solution to appear. But it doesn’t. Trees. Water. More trees.

I’m screwed. I’m going to have to wander into the woods and pull a Laura Ingalls Wilder.

Ax hoists my suitcase tighter in his grip. “This way.”

Before I can ask where we’re going, he’s opened the Jeep’s trunk and is setting my suitcase inside. Then he opens the front passenger door. I could stay here and ask where he’s taking me that has indoor plumbing, but honestly, what does it matter? I’m not going to look a gift toilet in the bowl.

I hustle down the porch’s steps and slide into the passenger seat. After he shuts the door behind me, Axel smoothly rounds the car, starts the engine, then pulls a quick, efficient U-turn before he guns it down the drive.

My hands white-knuckle the worn leather upholstery of my seat. This is partly because I am focusing all my energy on not shitting my pants, and also because Axel has the hot forearm thing going, driving the car—it’s a stick shift, so those muscles and tendons flex as he drives, eyes fixed on the road. To add insult to injury, the car’s the first place I’ve ever been able to pin down his scent that’s as evasive as he is. He’s brushed by me a few times. And then of course there was The Charades Kiss, which was when I got a decent lungful, but so much was happening, my brain didn’t have time to sort it out.

Now I’m soaking in his scent, and it’s indecently appealing. Not a harsh cologne, like so many guys wear, but something gentle. A whisper of sage and cedar. Woodsy, warm, clean. Like maybe it’s just the bar of soap he washes with.

And there my horny mind goes, daydreaming about Axel showering, soap clutched in one of those big hands, slipping down his chest, that lean, flat stomach, lower, right over his—

“Rooney.”

“What?” I yelp.

There’s an awkward silence before Axel clears his throat, eyes on the road. “You said Willa sent you here?”

I need a word with the universe, whoever’s in charge up there, because I truly resent that this man who leaves a room whenever I enter it seems genetically designed to turn me on. Just hearing him speak, quiet and deep, makes me want to shut my eyes and arch into the air like his voice is a taunting fingertip tracing my skin. If I weren’t so physically miserable, I’d be despicably turned on.

“I told Willa I needed to get away. She said the A-frame was empty. Which is…” I frown, staring out the window. “Really weird. Why would she send me here if she knew you were here and that all this stuff was going on?”

An uneasy hum rumbles in Axel’s throat. I catch his hands white-knuckling the steering wheel and gear shift, but he doesn’t say anything.

Thank God, just a few seconds later, we’ve pulled into a small clearing surrounding what I can only describe as a modern cottage. Dark wood. Clean lines. It reminds me of a bigger version of those trendy tiny cabins that always advertise on Instagram with photos of couples cuddling in a sea of white sheets and fluffy pillows that definitely don’t make me feel hopelessly alone or anything.

Axel throws open the door of his Jeep, his strides long and brisk as he rounds the car and opens my door before I’ve so much as unbuckled my seat belt. He holds the door open, but backs away as soon as I’m out of it, like he both wants as much space between us as possible and can’t help being a gentleman.

“What is this place?” I ask him.

Glancing my way, he pulls my suitcase from the trunk. “Somewhere you can stay tonight.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary. I just need the restroom, then I’ll get back on the road.”

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