Emma turns, surprise lighting up her face before a smile breaks through. "Do what?"
"Exist in the same space without trying to kill each other."
"Oh." She glances at the cats and reaches out to scratch Abel behind the ears. He leans into her touch, purring so loudly I can hear it from across the room. "They've been perfect gentlemen."
"Perfect and gentlemen are two words I would never use to describe them." I scrub a hand across my face. "Meet Cain and Abel. The one you're touching is Abel."
"Well, hello, Abel. Cain. I think they were just waiting for a woman's touch." She winks at me, and my throat goes dry.
What the fuck? I cannot deal with this without caffeine.
I move to the coffeepot, needing distance and something to do with my hands since my self-control is fraying thread by fucking thread. "Sleep okay?"
"Best night's sleep I've had in years, actually." She hoists herself onto the counter between the cats, her bare legs dangling. The sight of her pale thighs against the dark wood of my kitchen counter sends heat straight to my groin. It's so fucking early for this. "How about you? That couch can't have been comfortable."
I shrug. "I've slept on worse."
We fall into a surprisingly comfortable silence as I make coffee. My feelings tangle in aching knots, and I'm so busy unspooling all my filthy thoughts. When I hand her a mug, our fingers brush, and I have to force myself not to snatch my hand back like I've been burned.
"I should take you back to town today," I say after she's had a few sips. "If you want."
Her face falls. "Oh. Right. I guess I should..." She trails off, looking down into her mug. Then, with a determined lift of her chin, she smiles. "Actually, I don't want to go back yet. If that's okay. I mean, unless you're eager to have your house back to yourself."
Relief floods through me, followed immediately by concern about my own reaction. Yep, something definitely weird is happening to me.
"It's fine," I say, too quickly. "No rush."
Her smile is worth whatever internal battle I'm fighting. "Could you show me some of your favorite spots? I'd love to get some shots while I'm here."
I should say no. I should drive her back to town and return to my solitude. Stay as far away from her as I can.
Instead, I find myself nodding. "Sure. After breakfast."
I leadEmma along a narrow path only I know. She follows close behind, stopping frequently to frame shots with her camera. The oversized clothes she's wearing—my clothes—make her look even smaller, and I should not feel smug since it's nothing more than necessity.
She pauses to capture the way sunlight streams through a gap in the canopy. "This is incredible. How did you even find this place?"
"Got lost. Decided I liked it."
She laughs, the sound echoing through the trees. "That's the most on-brand response I could have expected."
I find myself wanting to hear that laugh again. It's a dangerous wanting. I've lived the past few years being content with what I have, but with her, the need to make her mine is overriding every other rational thought.
We reach a small clearing that opens to a view of the valley below. It's one of my favorite spots, though I've never shown it to anyone before.
"Oh my God." She freezes, camera halfway to her face. "Wyatt. Look."
At the far edge of the clearing, partially hidden by shadow, stands a magnificent elk. He hasn't noticed us yet, grazing peacefully in the morning light.
Emma raises her camera with painstaking slowness, her breath held. I watch her more than the elk—the intense focus in her eyes, the slight trembling of her hands with excitement.
Click! The elk lifts its head, sensing our presence.
Click! For a moment, it stares directly at us, majestic and wild, before turning and disappearing into the trees.
"Did you see that?" Emma whirls toward me, face alight with joy. "He looked right at us! And I got the shot. I actually got it!"
She pulls up the image on her camera's display and gasps. Even from where I stand, I can see it's perfect—the elk in profile, head raised, sunlight gilding its antlers.
