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“I’m fine,” she said.
He stared at her for a long moment. When he finally looked away, Annie felt the butterflies in her stomach intensify. It was clear he was attracted to her. He wasn’t even trying to hide it.
“Tea,” he said. “I’ll make some tea.” He shrugged out of his jacket and then moved to the sink. She watched as he glanced around, looking for the water faucet.
“You have to pump it,” she said. “There is no indoor plumbing.”
“No indoor—” He turned to face her. “You don’t have a shower? Or a toilet?”
“Sure. But they run on a rainwater catch system. I put it in about five years ago. There’s a shower in the lighthouse with a water heater. But here in the house, there’s just a bath, with water from the hand pump heated on the stove.”
“There’s no electricity either?”
Annie shook her head. “I don’t really need it. There’s nothing I need to run.”
“No television? No computer?”
“I have a phone. I recharge that in the lighthouse. There’s a little refrigerator out there, too, but I rarely use it. It’s really not that unusual. A lot of people live this way.”
“For this day and age it is,” he said. “Where do you get the firewood?”
“Sam Decker brings it around,” she said. “Except for food and taxes, it’s my only expense.”
Sam Decker had been one of the bullies who had taunted her as a child, making fun of her stammer by doing a dead-on imitation of her. But he’d come to regret his actions and one day, after her grandmother had passed away, he’d shown up on her front porch with a cord of split wood and an apology.
Since then, he’d brought wood every month and helped her with little jobs around the house. Though they were both adults now, and they were able to be cordial, even friendly, the wounds ran deep. She’d outgrown her stammer, but she still couldn’t fully trust Sam. And so she kept him at arm’s length.
Annie knew Sam had romantic feelings for her and hoped for something more than just friendship. But there was absolutely no attraction on her end. When there was attraction, she couldn’t deny it...like now...with Rourke.
She watched as he built a fire in the stove, studying his backside, clad in faded denim. He added small pieces of kindling from the basket beneath the sink and when the flames were high enough, he dropped a log on top of the fire. Rourke closed the cast-iron door, then worked to fill the battered kettle with water from the pump.
Annie walked over to the cabinets above the sink. She pulled back the gingham fabric and revealed two jars of loose tea. “I have black or green. Which do you prefer?”
“Black,” he said.
She retrieved an old china teapot from the breakfront and set it on the stove, then scooped a measure of the tea into it. After that, she found a pair of mugs and set them beside the pot. “I don’t have real cream. Or milk. Just powdered milk,” she said.
“Just a little sugar would be good,” he said.
* * *
ROURKE WASN’T QUITE sure what to think about all of this. Of course, he’d known there were people in the world who lived without the trappings of technology. He’d never actually met one, though. And a single woman living alone seemed like an unlikely candidate for pioneer of the year.
“What are you thinking?” she asked, watching him with an inquisitive expression.
“I’m just...I don’t know. Surprised. Maybe a little confused.”
“About how I live?”
He nodded. “That...among other things.”
“I didn’t really choose this life,” she said. “I guess it chose me—out of necessity. I don’t have a lot of money, so I have to be careful what I spend. You’d be surprised at how little you can live on when you simplify things.”
“I can imagine,” he said.
“I think everyone should at least try to reduce the impact they have on our environment. It’s just healthier. For me and the planet.”
“What about a car?”
“I don’t have one. I bike into town. In the winter, I walk. It’s only three miles. It’s good exercise.”
He’d never known anyone quite like her. And Rourke had known a lot of women. Though he’d admired beauty and wit in the opposite sex, there had always been something he found lacking in his female companions. But here was a woman who was strong and independent. She had courage and determination and a quiet confidence that he found endlessly attractive.
He was curious about her life. How had she transformed herself from that painfully shy girl with the stutter into a strong, capable woman? “You remembered my name,” he said.
Annie nodded. “You were kind to me once.”
“You’ve changed. A lot.”
“I’ve grown up.” She paused. “You probably mean the stammer? That disappeared after I got out of school. I didn’t want to live my life in a constant state of fear and I reached a point where I just stopped fighting. I didn’t feel it necessary to defend myself anymore. I found an inner calm and I think my mind caught up with my words.”
“You seem happy,” Rourke said.
“I am.”
“But you don’t have many friends on the island.”
“I don’t need a lot of friends. Those that I have are good to me. Besides, how many true friends do we really have? Most people in your life are acquaintances not friends. How many would come to you if you called?”
He shrugged. She was right. He didn’t have that many good friends. He could count them on one hand. The whistle from the teakettle shattered the silence between them and Rourke stood up and walked back to the stove. He poured the water into the pot.
“There’s a strainer on the stove,” she said.
He tossed the strainer into one of the mugs, then carried everything over to the hearth, carefully setting the china pot on the flat stone. “Don’t you ever get lonely?”
“All the time,” she said. “But there’s really not much I can do about it. Leaving the island would be like cutting out a part of my heart.”
“Have you ever left the island?” he asked.
This brought a laugh. “Of course I have. All the time.”
He could see it in her eyes. She was lying. But now was not the time to call her on it. “I live in New York,” he said.
“Good for you. When I imagine living my life there, it seems as difficult to me as my life here seems to you.”
A gust of wind rattled the windows and they both turned to look. “It’s going to get a lot worse before it gets better.”
Annie crawled out of her chair and sat down next to him on the hearth. Rourke felt his pulse quicken and he held tight to his tea in an effort not to reach out and touch her. But she had other ideas. She set her mug down and reached out, placing her hand on his cheek. Then, her gaze fixed on his, she leaned forward and touched her lips to his.
The contact sent a jolt running through him, like being struck by lightning. Only it wasn’t painful, but warm and pleasurable. He set his mug down beside him and slipped his fingers through her hair, pulling her into another kiss, this one deeper and more urgent than the first.
Rourke wasn’t sure what was happening, but he wasn’t about to stop it. From the moment he’d seen her in the hardware store, he’d wanted this to happen. He’d just never expected to get the chance. And now that he was here, Rourke wasn’t going to waste another moment.
His fingers twisted in the damp strands of her hair, but suddenly he heard her gasp and Rourke drew back. He’d forgotten about the cut on her scalp. “Let me look,” he said.
“It’s really much better,” she said. “It just stings a little.”
The interior of the cabin was dimly lit, the sun already down and the lamps providing a feeble kind of light. He gently examined her injury by the glow of the fire and found the spot. There was a substantial knot around the cut, but it looked as if it had stopped bleeding.
“I don’t think it will need stitches.”
“Good,” she said. “I hate going to the doctor.”
“What the hell were you doing out there?” Rourke asked. “You’ve lived by the ocean your entire life. Surely you know better than anyone how dangerous it can be.” He paused. “And what was the herring for? Who buys twenty pounds of bait before a storm?”
“Are you hungry? I should make us something for dinner.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” he asked. “What were you doing?”
“Talking to the sea,” she said. “When it gets like this, sometimes I think I can hear voices in the wind. If I just listen hard enough, I think I might be able to hear what they’re saying.”
“Voices? Whose voices?”
“My parents’,” she said softly. He saw a blush rise on her cheeks. “It’s silly. I know.”
Rourke said, “No, it’s not. It’s not.” He wanted to ask her what had happened. Town gossip had never gone into great detail. He knew they’d both drowned, but he wasn’t sure of the circumstances. No one in town had ever offered an explanation and until now, it really hadn’t mattered to him.
“I really should stop. This time it almost got me killed.”
“I guess you were lucky I was there,” he said.
She nodded. “I guess I was.” Annie tucked her feet up beneath her and wrapped her arms around her legs. “Are you sure you don’t have someplace you need to be?”
“Actually, I was on my way home to New York. I was hoping to put a few miles behind me before the storm hit. But I can stay.”
“Maybe you should bring your things in before the weather gets too bad. I’ll just get dinner started.”
Rourke nodded. He stood, grabbed his jacket and slipped into it. “What’s the dog’s name?”
“Kit,” she said.
Rourke patted his thigh and the dog looked up from where he was sleeping by the fire. “Come on, boy.”
The border collie jumped to his feet and scampered to the door, then hurried out in front of Rourke. As he walked down the steps, he noticed that the wind had picked up and the temperature had dropped close to freezing. If it got any colder, the rain might become ice or snow.
He moved toward the water. The color of the sky and sea now blended together until the horizon was almost impossible to see. The wind gusts were strong enough to test his balance and within minutes, his fingers had gone numb from the cold.
Kit stood beside him, sniffing at the wind. Rourke reached down and gave him a pat on the head. She wasn’t entirely alone, he mused. And maybe she would have been fine without his help. But Rourke couldn’t regret his impulse to stop and check on her.
After all, she’d kissed him. And he hadn’t been kissed—or touched—by a woman since he’d arrived on the island. It was rather ironic that all this was happening the day he decided to head home. He wasn’t going to question the timing. Whatever happened tonight between them could be a powerful counterpoint to the storm.
2
“CAN YOU PEEL potatoes?” Annie glanced over her shoulder at Rourke. He sat at the kitchen table, watching her move about the kitchen as she prepared dinner. “I think I can manage,” he said. “Unless you’re going to make me do it with a knife.”
“I do have a vegetable peeler.” She reached into a wicker basket on the shelf above the sink and grabbed it, then placed some potatoes in a bowl.
“I wasn’t sure you had one of these newfangled things,” he said, holding up the peeler.
“I’m glad you find my life so amusing.”
Rourke picked up a potato. “Not amusing. Endlessly fascinating.” His gaze met hers and Annie felt a shiver skitter down her spine. The longer they were cooped up in this cottage, the harder it was to deny the attraction between them. It was like waiting for the storm to hit. She wasn’t sure when it was going to happen, but it would happen. And when it did it would be powerful and impossible to ignore.
“I like being self-sufficient,” she said. “I like not having to depend on anyone.”
“Someone brings you wood.”
“I could get my own wood,” she said. “It would just take so much time out of my day that it wouldn’t be worth it. But I could do it.”
“I’m sure you could,” Rourke said. “I suspect you could do just about anything you set your mind to.”
She grabbed a small bunch of carrots she’d brought up from the root cellar and sat down, placing them on the table. Cupping her chin in her hand, she observed him as he peeled the potatoes. Annie was used to doing things her own way, so she fought the urge to give him advice.
“It’s going to be a long night,” she murmured.
Rourke glanced up. “Are you worried?”
She shook her head. Storms usually put her on edge, but Annie felt remarkably calm. Rourke was a wonderful distraction. “I like having you here. I’m glad you stayed.”
“Is that why you kissed me?” he asked.
Annie wondered when the subject of their kiss would come up. She couldn’t help but smile. “I’m not sure why I did that.”
“Oh, come on,” Rourke said. “I know enough about you already to know that you never do anything without a reason. So tell me, Annie. Why did you kiss me?”
He was right. She was the least impulsive person on all of Cape Breton Island. “I wanted to let you know I was...interested. And what about you? Are you interested?”
“Interested in kissing you again? The answer to that would be yes. I’m very interested.”
“I think we should try it again,” Annie said.
“Now? Because, I think now would be as good a time as any.”
“All right,” she said. They stared at each other across the table. “Are you going to come to me or am I going to come to you?”
“I think you should come to me,” Rourke suggested.
Annie wiped her damp hands on a dish towel, then slowly stood. As she circled the table, her heart began to race and she felt as if her knees would buckle. When she stood in front of him, she reached out to smooth her hand through his thick, dark hair. But he caught her fingers and opened her hand, pressing his lips to the center of her palm.
