He pulls his hand back and defaults to what he does best. “You ever shut up?”
“That’s the third time you’ve asked me that. I’m starting to get a complex.”
“Well, do you?”
“Only when I’m kissed,” I tease, voice thick with sarcasm.
He holds my stare with one eyebrow raised and the corner of his mouth curves into a real, dangerous smile. “That so?”
My breath catches in my chest. “Guess you’ll never find out, huh?”
He stands slowly and leans across the table, deliberately close. His eyes sparkle with amusement, but his face staysunreadable. I hold my breath as he comes even closer, then snatches the fork right out of my hand.
“Hey!” I protest.
“Breakfast’s over,” he mutters.
I blink, and he’s out the door, leaving me sitting here with my heart in my throat and words on the tip of my tongue.
4
SIERRA
The storm had been relentless all day, burying the cabin in a thick, white silence. Snow drifts against the windows, soft and endless, muting the world until it feels like we are the only two people left alive. Outside, the only sign of life was a trail of Hunter’s large boot prints from when he’d gone out to grab more firewood.
Inside, I sit cross-legged on a blanket in front of the fireplace, surrounding myself with a sea of tiny paper snowflakes I’d been folding to pass the time. No internet. No television. No distractions.
What did hedoup here all day?
Across the room, Hunter sits in a rocking chair, a book open in his massive hands. I almost make a crack about him looking like a retired grandpa, but think better of it. I’ve learned a few things about Hunter in the last forty-eight hours.
He doesn’t like small talk.
He doesn’t like being watched.
He doesn’t like being questioned—and he definitely doesn’t like being teased.
But really, what else was there to do herebesidestalk?
“Whatcha reading?” I ask.
He doesn’t look up.
“Is it a mystery?” I try again.
“It’d be a mystery if you’d be quiet.”
I arch a brow. “Are you calling me loud?”
“I’m calling you annoying. Your boredom isn’t my problem. Find something to do.Quietly.”
He means it as an insult, but I can’t help the small grin that’s tugging at my lips. I pick up another paper snowflake and fold it slowly. “You could just admit you like the company.”
He doesn’t even pause. “I like the quiet.”
“So you’ve said.”
The fire crackles softly, its glow painting his face in a warm gold color. His beard is thick and dark, matching the tousled hair that could use a haircut. Those blue eyes are the only bright thing on him and they keep flicking toward me in quick glances. Like he wants to make sure I hadn’t vanished. Or, maybe he’s hoping I will.
