Meant to Be Immortal (Argeneau #32) - Lynsay Sands Page 0,75
rivulets down her chest and legs, of the warm sand under her feet, of the cool breeze on her skin.
“So, this is your cottage,” Mac commented idly as he watched her pick up the towel and begin to dry herself off.
CJ smiled faintly, but took a moment to wrap the towel around herself and tuck the end in the top to hold it in place before saying, “This is my beach. That’s my cottage.”
He followed her pointing finger up toward the pretty white cottage on the cliff above them, taking in the board and batten siding, and the sliding glass doors with large windows on either side looking out over the lake. It was all there was to see from where they were.
“Would you like to see the inside?” she asked, and when he nodded, turned to lead the way toward the stairs on the other side of the outcropping of rocks that lay at the base of the cliff. She walked slowly, giving him the chance to catch up, but was almost sorry she had when he took her hand in his. The move caught her by surprise and made her steps falter briefly, but then she forced herself to relax and continue moving. It was a dream. Her dream. There was nothing wrong with holding hands.
CJ told herself that several times as she led Mac to the wooden stairs built into the face of the cliff. But it didn’t help her to relax any. His hand was cool, his hold firm, and he didn’t let her go when they started up the stairs so that they could mount them single file, but held on and walked a little to the side and one step below her, the back of his hand occasionally brushing against her hip as they moved. It was having a most disconcerting effect on her equilibrium and she found herself beginning to babble nervously as they ascended the stairs.
“This was a one-room cottage when my foster parents bought it,” she told him. “They worked on it every summer for years, adding on two bedrooms, a loft, and even a bunkie out front.”
“A bunkie?” Mac asked with curiosity.
“A small building with one long room and a bathroom. It’s fitted out like a sitting room with two couches, some chairs, and a dartboard, but the couches pull out into beds for extra guests,” she explained. “It’s where my friends and I used to sleep when I brought them over from the mainland with us, or if one of the friends I had here on the island stayed overnight. Otherwise, I slept in the cottage.”
They’d reached the deck by then and she led him to the sliding glass doors and used the need to open the door as an excuse to free her hand from his. Sliding it open, she waved him in and then followed and stopped just inside the door as the breeze from the ceiling fan brushed over her body. There was no air-conditioning in the cottage, but shade from the large trees around it, combined with the ceiling fan in the main room and the breeze off the lake blowing through the screens on the open doors and windows, kept it mostly cool. The only time she missed air-conditioning was on those really hot days when there was no breeze. That happened rarely, though, and when it did, relief could be found in the water.
CJ closed the screen on the sliding glass doors, and then watched Mac look around her home away from home. She did too, her gaze sliding over white walls, hardwood floors, dark leather furniture. Half the large space was a living room with furniture that was overstuffed and comfy, but definitely older and well used. A faux fur rug lay on the floor in front of the fireplace, a large coffee table to do jigsaw puzzles on sat in front of the sofa, and there were lamps by every seat for reading at night.
The other half of the room was the kitchen and dining area. Blue cabinets with white quartz countertops lined the wall facing onto the road and the side wall, while a long wooden table with eight chairs filled the rest of the space.
When she glanced back to Mac and saw that his attention had moved to the ladder leading up to the loft, she said, “All there is up there is a king-sized mattress. There wasn’t enough height for a proper bed, but it’s only used when