I’d forgotten about the fucking cat. “Where is he?”
Juniper looked around, her eyes wide. “I don’t know. Maybe in the bedroom.”
Her hands were already full, so I ducked into the bedroom and scooped the cat up off the bed. The whole room smelled like freshly laundered sheets and something flowery and feminine. I was entering dangerous territory by taking her back to my place,but I didn’t have a choice. I didn’t trust anyone else to keep her safe.
“I’ve got the cat. Give me your keys. Let’s get out of here.”
She tossed me the keys, and I locked up behind us. If someone wanted to get inside, the simple deadbolt wouldn’t stop them, but it might slow them down. I pushed the cat into the backseat and rounded the SUV to get behind the wheel. Once we got to my cabin, I’d figure out what to do next.
Seeing Juniper in my space was equal parts comforting and confusing. Neither one of us had been thinking clearly when we left Caleb’s lodge, so I hadn’t thought to have her grab something to wear besides those fucking tempting pajamas. I’d given her one of my flannel shirts, and she’d snuggled up on the couch with a blanket covering her legs. Scout nestled in next to her while Sir Aper Whatever surveyed his surroundings like a monarch perched on his throne from the dog bed by the fireplace.
At least the cat and dog had been tolerating each other. If they could do it, so could we.
Juniper had been rattled when I’d brought her into the cabin, but now that the initial shock had worn off, she was pissed.
“Who would do something like that?” She looked over at me from her corner of the couch. “Did Caleb ever tell you who had made the offer on his land?”
“No.” I propped my feet up on the coffee table while I tried to decide how much information to share.
“Would someone in town know?” She flipped her laptop closed and set it on the side table. She’d been searching through the photos she’d taken over the past several days and looking for clues to see if she’d missed anything. The woman might not belong on the mountain, but she was determined.
“Maybe.”
“Then I should go check.” She tossed the blanket aside and got up.
“I’m not letting you go anywhere alone.” I stood as well and we stared at each other, neither one of us willing to back down. She was even more beautiful when she was all riled up. Her cheeks flushed and her pulse fluttered, drawing my attention to her neck. “We can go first thing in the morning. It’s too late to get down there and back in the daylight today.”
That seemed to satisfy her, at least for now. Her shoulders relaxed and her breath slowed. “You don’t need to babysit me.”
Is that what she thought? It had been lifetimes ago that I’d had to temper my tone and share my thoughts with someone. Caleb, Finn, and the other guys down at the Rusty Elk didn’t require explanations. They took everything I said or did at face value. But Juniper, hell, she refused to blindly put her trust in me.
Yes, she was gorgeous but seeing the fire burning inside her… that made her infinitely more attractive.
“I’m not babysitting you. Your uncle was a friend. I don’t want anything to happen to you like it did to him.” Shit. I’d said too much. Hoping she wouldn’t pick up on my mistake, I moved to the kitchen. “Are you okay with venison stew for dinner?”
Her head tilted. She caught it. Caught me. But she didn’t say anything. Just followed me into the kitchen. “Is that what smells so good?”
The small kitchen had always been big enough for me, but with Juniper leaning against the counter, her eyes shining with interest, her body close enough to touch, it seemed to shrink.
“Can I do anything to help?”
“You can see if there’s anything to make a salad if you want,” I said, nodding toward the refrigerator.
Within minutes, I’d dished up two big bowls of stew and we sat down, her knee brushing mine underneath the small table. A shiver raced straight down my spine, and I scooted my chair a few inches away. Juniper didn’t acknowledge it but based on the slight smile that tipped the edges of her lips up, she could tell I wasn’t immune to her touch.
After spending most of the afternoon talking, I welcomed the silence. I dug into my stew and tried to keep my mind from wandering to how she looked earlier that morning, her hair falling over her shoulders, her dreams still hovering at the edges of her memory, that ridiculous shirt she was wearing when I’d pounded on her door.
She wasn’t content to keep the peace. “This is really good.”
“Why do you sound so surprised?”
Her hand paused, her spoon halfway to her mouth. “Nothing personal. I just figured a man who lived all alone at the top of a mountain who didn’t like to talk and barely ventured out wouldn’t be such a good cook.”
“Maybe we’ve both underestimated each other.” That was as close as I’d get to telling her I might have been wrong about her.
“Maybe so.” She slipped the spoon past her lips, and I forced myself to look away.
When we were done eating, she cleared the table and started filling the sink with soapy water. I hadn’t thought beyond getting her out of the lodge. With evening settling in, my stomach churned. I’d never planned on entertaining guests and only had one bedroom. No question about it, I was going to give her the bed, but how long would it take me to fall asleep knowing her fiery hair was fanned out over my pillow?
