Resist Me (Change Me Book One - standalone): McCoy Raven Boys (12 page)

“I’m going to chop some wood for the stove. There isn’t much left. Colton used it all up when he was here last time and obviously didn’t bother to replenish the stash.”
 

“Something tells me you’re gonna have a little talk with your brother about that.” I chuckled.
 

“You bet. At least he had a decency to wash the bed sheets. I just checked.”
 

I looked at him questioningly.

“He brought his girlfriend here for the weekend. She likes to fish, so he decided this place would impress her.” He shrugged and then shook his head. “They left a whole stash of condoms in the bedside drawer though.”

An unexpected rush of heat shot through my body. It must have been a natural response to what Ethan implied at—that someone recently had sex in this cabin. I scolded myself for reacting like a hormone-driven teenager. Why should I care if some people I’ve never even met had sex or not? But I did care, no matter how much I wanted to deny it. This was making me extremely uncomfortable and even more confused.
 

Ethan smiled apologetically. “Sorry, I keep talking as if you were one of my brothers or male cousins. I spend way too much time with them.”
 

“Oh, no worries.” I tried to sound indifferent, but failed. And my cheeks turned red, which made me even more self-conscious than I already was. This was becoming ridiculous. Why couldn’t I relax around Ethan?
 

He watched me for a moment, but I was afraid to look at him. These spellbinding eyes were too much for me to handle. Suddenly, I felt very vulnerable. I got up and said, “Will you show me around?”

“Yes, I was planning on that. Just wanted to check if everything inside was left in order. Colton knows better than to leave a mess in my cabin, but you never know.”

“How old is he?” I was curious.

“Just turned twenty-one. He’s the baby of the family.”

“How old are you, in you don’t mind me asking?”
 

“Twenty-four. You?”

“Only one year younger than you.”
 

“Cool. Come inside.” He motioned for me to follow through the back door.

We stepped into, what I assumed was a living room, or maybe a family room, or something else all together. I didn’t know if there was a specific name for the rooms in such cabins by a lake. It was spacious, although far from lavish. Everything in here seemed to have its own place. The furniture looked comfortable and was positioned with one simple purpose in mind: the usefulness, not just looks. There were two identical, oversized recliners, a matching sofa, and a coffee table which reminded me of a sturdy block of wood. A few fishing magazines and books laid neatly placed in one corner.
 

A heavy duty wrought-iron log holder, presently housing just two logs stood in front of the fireplace. I looked to the mantel and saw a row of framed photos.
 

Ethan caught my gaze and pointed to each of them, while explaining who were they of, “This is my mom and dad on their thirtieth wedding anniversary cruise; this one here is Colton’s high school graduation picture; and here are the twins in the bar, getting shitfaced after graduating from college; that’s me and Nash, fishing; and this photo was taken of all of us on Grandma Ruth’s birthday, I forgot which one. She’s my dad’s mother.”
 

Grandma Ruth appeared tough. I suspected she wouldn’t put up with any crap from her huge family or anyone else for that matter. Ethan’s brothers looked so much alike, there could be no doubt they were related. I wouldn’t be able to tell the twins apart, at least not from the photos. Nash looked almost identical as the twins, and all of the brothers, with the exception of Colton, seemed as if they were same age. Not only their facial features and hair were so much alike, but their body type was totally the same. I wondered how it would feel to be surrounded by that many gorgeous males who shared such perfect genes. Probably very confusing.
 

I picked the photo of Ethan and Nash, each holding a huge fish and a fishing pole. They were grinning, looking carefree and suntanned. “When was this one taken?” I asked.
 

“Last summer in Key West. Nash and I went on a fishing trip with the twins. You see that fish? It was a good catch,” he sounded proud.

The scales on both fish shone silver in the bright Florida sun. I longed for that sun. I longed for my life there—the life I had before the nightmare had started. I put the photo back on the mantel and kept staring at it.
 

“You miss it,” Ethan said quietly.
 

I looked at him and nodded. Tears blurred my vision, and I turned away, hiding them from him.
 

“Hey.” He touched my arm.
 

A shiver ran through me, stirring more yearning inside. This time it wasn’t the yearning for my home town. “I’m okay.” I put on a smile and blinked the tears away. I had to stay strong—on all fronts.
       

“Do you want to see the rest of the place?” he asked.
 

“Oh, sure, I would love to.” I nodded maybe too eagerly.

“Kitchen is right there.” He pointed and walked away from the fireplace.
 

I followed. The kitchen was quite roomy. There was a lot of counter space, a fridge in the corner, and a solid-looking, square table with four heavy chairs. It was one of those tables that could be made bigger by placing an insert in its middle. There must have been more chairs for it somewhere then, maybe in some storage outside?
 

But the most eye-catching object was an old wood-burning stove, standing against the red brick wall. It has been obviously restored, because it looked clean and shiny. The stove was black with a nickel trim and antique handles. A large name plate adorned, what I assumed, was the oven door. It read QUAKER PRIZE. The stove stood on a short, stocky base decorated with elaborate scrolls.
 

I walked closer and ran my hand over the front of the stove. “This is really cool. Looks antique. Is it?”
 

“I guess anything over a hundred years old can be safely called an antique, right? This stove belonged to my great grandma, Olivia, Grannie Ruth’s mother. I had to nag Grandma Ruth for two years to give it to me, but she wouldn’t hear of it. Finally, when I left the Marines and bought this cabin, she decided it was a good home for her family heirloom.”
 

Ethan opened the little door with the QUAKER PRIZE plate and continued, “Here’s the oven. Like the rest of this stove, it works perfect. I even bake bread in it sometimes.”
 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like this up close. It’s really cool. So that’s what you needed the chopped wood for?”

“Yeah. And for the fire pit, to make s’mores.” He smiled a little. Gotta have s’mores by the lake.
 

“You’re going to make s’mores?” I laughed.
 

“Of course. Why not?” He shrugged. “So how do you like my kitchen? I did the whole remodel here with Nash and my cousin Jack. The one you met today.”

“It looks wonderful. There is so much light in here,” I praised. It was a cheerful kind of place, with its off-white cabinets and a beige granite tile on the countertops. One wall was done in red brick, while the others were covered in wooden planks.
 

Two windows, facing the Lake let in a lot of daylight. Ethan didn’t have any curtains in them, just the simple, wide-plank wooden blinds, as I would expect from a guy.
 

“Okay, let me show you the upstairs,” he said.
 

I followed.
 

Chapter Thirteen

ETHAN
 

Lisbeth looked around the cabin with such an appreciation in her eyes. She seemed genuinely interested in everything. Little exclamations of awe and surprise escaped her from time to time. She was either easily impressed, or a very good actress. But I leaned toward the former, because there was a certain degree of an undeniable honesty with which she acted.
 

We went up the stairs to the second floor. I pointed to the two doors on the right from the staircase, “Here are the bedrooms. Mine is that one. You will stay in this one,” I indicated the room to the left and then the door on the right. “There is one more bedroom.” I pointed to the room on the opposite side of the stairs. “But it’s the smallest, so you would be more comfortable in the one I chose for you. And here’s the bathroom.” I walked up to it and pushed the door open.
 

She nodded and peeked inside. I was glad the bathroom was clean. Colton knew better than leave a mess in my cabin. If he did, I wouldn’t let him come here with his girlfriend again. I liked the whole place neat and orderly—it must’ve been the military training that instilled that in me.
 

“We’re gonna share it. Sorry, there is only one bathroom upstairs, but you’re welcome to use one on the first floor,” I explained.
 

“I’m sure we’ll manage.”

No fuss, no arguments—I liked that. I actually liked that a lot. Easygoing women were rare. Although, she wasn’t here for any other purpose than to hide and be safe. I kept reminding myself that. Damn, that was going to be hard, especially because I enjoyed her company more and more, despite trying hard to stay indifferent to her.
 

I showed her the linen closet with clean towels and sheets. We went to see both bedrooms, and she smiled wide when we entered the one it was hers. It was a good size room, with a large window that let in a lot of morning sun. Like all the other rooms in the cabin, this one had an awesome view of the Lake.
 

Lisbeth walked up to the window and stood, mesmerized. “It’s so beautiful,” she whispered.
 

I stood next to her, more interested in watching her than the water and the boats. “It is.” I nodded, thinking really of her and not of the Lake. “Okay, you must be hungry.” I needed a distraction.
 

“Show me your bedroom,” she said.
 

“Sure. It has the same view as this one.”

I let her enter first, walking in behind her. I painted the walls of this room in soft beige and kept the bedding colors in dark-brown with lighter-brown accents. There were no knickknacks anywhere in here, but I had a large, framed photo of my whole family with three generations of the McCoys. My parents kept complaining about the lack of grandkids, since none of their sons was eager to get hitched and start their own family. All my cousins were quite young too and still single. We were all in our twenties; a couple were in college and the rest of us worked.
 

Lisbeth walked past my bed, running her hand over the dark wood of the footboard. It was a solid, large bed that used to belong to one of my grandmothers—just like that wood burning stove in the kitchen. I loved old stuff, especially if it came from the family.
 

She glanced at me and then quickly away. But that quick glimpse was enough to send a heat wave through me. That bed of mine has never looked as inviting.

“Let’s go to the kitchen.” I walked out of the bedroom and down the stairs. I hoped she would follow, because if I had to enter that room again and see her hand caressing the bed, I would lose it. I would throw her down onto the covers and fuck her senseless, no matter the consequences.
 

“We need to bring some food from the garage,” I told her when she joined me downstairs.
 

“Sure.”

Lisbeth helped me carry our groceries into the kitchen. She put some of it into the fridge and some on the shelves of my tiny pantry. There wasn’t much in there, since I only visited the cabin from time to time. But it was enough for me—a few basics, including enough of a non-perishable food for a few weeks, if necessary.
 

“What should we make for dinner?” Lisbeth asked, putting her hands on her hips. “Besides the s’mores.”

“So the s’mores ain’t enough?” I joked, keeping straight face.
 

“If we make enough of them, then sure.”

“I have a better idea,” I said. “Burgers.” I pointed to the ground beef in the fridge. “Get the meat, and I’ll start the grill.”

Ten minutes later, Lisbeth and I stood outside by my Webber grill. It wasn’t huge, but it served its purpose just fine. For the bigger family gatherings, I would bring two more grills from the other cabins. With the three of those grilling beauties, we were always able to cook anything we wanted to.
 

I lifted the lid and sprayed a cooking spray on the grates. Lisbeth already formed the burger patties and put four of them on the hot surface. She was quiet, and I wondered what went through her mind. She seemed relaxed though, so I decided not to pry. Her head shot up when she heard a motor boat somewhere on the Lake. I looked up in that direction too.
 

“What if they come?” she asked quietly, watching the boat. Her eyes pinched with concern.

I couldn’t deny the possibility. But I also didn’t want to freak her out by explaining about the pistol and the loads of ammo Colton put in my truck earlier today. That was better kept secret, unless the hell broke loose, and I had to kick some ass.