Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
His words echo in my head, making me smile.
But what if he said those words in the heat of the moment and will regret them later? My smile fades a little when I think of how hard it’s going to be for Butch to come off the rig. It was an effort just to bring him this far.
What if it hurts him? What if leaving causes him to break?
And it’s my doing?
Butch carries my limp form into one of the offices near the laundry room, settling us down onto a couch where he tucks my head beneath his chin and falls asleep. I slumber for a while, but after some time, I’m woken by a noise upstairs.
On deck?
I’m reluctant to wake up Butch when he looks more peaceful than he’s been all night and I’m sensing he doesn’t sleep easy on a normal basis. So I slip out of his arms, returning to the laundry room briefly to dress. And then I head up to the deck to investigate the strange creaking noise that continues to echo around us.
I never expect to be picked up and thrown halfway across the rig as soon as I open the door.
Chapter Six
Butch
A scream wakes me up.
It’s not unusual for me to hear sounds like this in my head.
But they don’t usually come from a woman.
“Cindy,” I rasp, jackknifing on the couch. She’s gone. Her warmth still remains on the insides of my arms, my chest, but she’s not here. Where the hell is she? “Cindy!”
The cobwebs of sleep begin to disappear a little faster and when I hear the scream again, I realize it’s coming from her—and my blood turns to ice. Cold sweat pours down my back as I lunge to my feet, the walls of the office beating around me like a heart. What is making her scream? I’m already running into the common hallway, a million and one scenarios battering my mind.
Did she get a limb caught in a piece of machinery?
Did she fall down the stairs?
Is there someone on this rig besides us?
That last possibility makes me roar so loud that my teeth throb in protest.
“Cindy!”
This time, the sound she makes is less of a scream and more of a yelp of alarm. And I can no longer deny the fact that has been prodding my subconscious since the very first scream.
She’s upstairs on deck.
The screams are coming from outside.
A place I haven’t ventured in five years.
I don’t hesitate to run toward the staircase now, however. My Cindy is out there and something is wrong. I would run into an inferno if she needed me. I would go back and relive my time in the war to feel her mouth on mine. There might be a terrible pit forming in my stomach and my throat might be filled with cement, but my physical ailments will be nothing compared to how I’ll feel if she’s hurt. So help me God, I will tear down the sky.
“Butch!”
I’m halfway up the stairs when she calls my name, causing my heart to lurch painfully, but I don’t stop running. I don’t stop, even when my pulse seems to be pumping at two hundred beats a minute. I don’t stop when shudder after shudder starts to course through me. When I reach the top of the stairs, I kick open the metal door—and I’m greeted by a howling wind. Slanting rain.
That’s when I see her.
Lying on her stomach, holding on for dear life to a metal pole so the wind won’t carry her off into the pitching ocean. “Cindy!” I bellow at the top of my lungs, throwing myself out into the chaos. Wind rips at me, but I’m too large to be budged. Not my girl, though. She’s half my size. Any second now, a good gust of this powerful wind could send her hurtling down over the side of the rig. No, no, no. I’m not going to let that happen. Please God let me move faster. Fast enough.
The deck is slippery from ocean spray and I use that to my advantage, getting a running start and sliding like a baseball player the remaining distance to Cindy, wrapping one arm around her waist and gripping the pole with my opposite hand.
I’ve got her.
I’ve got her.
“You’re alive,” I wheeze, loud enough to be heard over the pound of rain and whips of wind. “You’re alive, baby. You’re not hurt? Tell me!”
“No. I’m okay.” She starts to cry, wrapping herself around me, arms winding around my neck, leg thrown over my hip. “Just scared. The wind…it picked me up a-and then I was…I almost…”
“Shhh.” I push her face into my neck. “It’s okay now.”
“I figured out what it takes to scare someone from New Orleans.”
Right here. This is when I fall uncontrollably in love with Cindy. When she’s able to make a joke in the middle of a terrible storm, after nearly having her life snatched away. My heart is already rioting in my chest from adrenaline, but now I worry if it races any faster, I’m going to pass out.