“Here.” I held out the logs, and he moved closer to take them. Our fingers brushed as he took the wood from me.
“Thank you,” he breathed. “Really. I know this is weird—a stranger showing up at your door asking for wood—”
“It’s fine. We’re neighbors. For the next month. Might as well help each other survive.” I stepped back, putting distance between us because proximity was not helping my ability to think clearly. “When you get back to your cabin, bring your wet wood inside. Not too close to the fire, but near enough to warm up and dry out. It should be ready to burn by tomorrow.”
“Oh, that’s smart. Thank you.” He adjusted his grip on the logs, and I definitely did not watch his pecs move under his tight hoodie. “You’re really good at this.”
“I’m an editor. I solve problems for a living. Usually manuscript problems, not wood problems.” Fuck me. Why did I keep saying the word wood? “Taking a break from my job.”
“An editor.” He looked interested now. “Like books?”
“Like romance novels, specifically.” I crossed my arms, suddenly defensive. “I know it’s not ‘serious literature’ or whatever, but—”
“I wasn’t going to say that.” His expression was genuine. “Romance novels are amazing. My friend Chandra reads them constantly, and they make her happy, which seems like a pretty important thing for books to do.”
I blinked. “Most people don’t—” I stopped. “Sorry. I’m used to defending my job to people who think it’s somehow less legitimate than editing literary fiction.”
“Sounds like you work with assholes.”
“Sometimes.” I thought about Ollie, about Roger, about everyone at that party who’d probably spent the entire night gossiping about my breakdown. “Yeah. I do.”
The cat chose that moment to jump off the couch and weave between both our legs, purring like a small engine, rubbing against Samuel first and then me, clearly playing us both.
“This cat is shameless,” Samuel said, laughing.
“Absolutely no standards. Just throwing itself at anyone who shows the slightest interest.” I was definitely talking about the cat and not projecting at all.
“Well, it’s working. I’m charmed.” He crouched down again, balancing the logs carefully, and scratched behind the cat’s ears. “You’re beautiful and you know it, don’t you?”
The cat’s purr intensified to jet-engine levels.
“You’re just encouraging it,” I said.
“That’s my California energy. We encourage everything out there. Feelings, crystals, juice cleanses, stray cats.” He stood up, and his hoodie rode up slightly, revealing a strip of tanned skin above his yoga pants that I absolutely did not stare at. “I should get back before my cabin becomes an actual icebox.”
“Right. Yes. Good plan.”
We moved toward the door, and I opened it for him. The cold air rushed in, making us both flinch.
“Thank you again,” Samuel said, pausing on the threshold. “For the wood.” He grinned. “Hey, if you need anything while you’re up here—someone to split a Shifflett’s run with, or just someone who gets that we’re both clearly hiding from our lives—I’m right next door.”
My throat tightened. “I’m not hiding.”
“Neither am I.” His eyes met mine, dark and warm and entirely too knowing. “We’re taking a break. That’s different.”
“Completely different.”
“Totally different.” He shifted the logs in his arms. “Goodnight, Farley.”
The way he said my name made something flutter in my chest. “Goodnight, Samuel.”
I watched him walk down my porch steps and disappear into the trees. The moment he was out of sight, I closed the door and leaned against it, my heart pounding.
“No,” I said aloud to the empty cabin. The cat had returned to the couch and was watching me with those unsettling eyes. “Absolutely not. We’re not doing this.”
The cat blinked slowly.
“I just had my heart broken. By a man I was planning to propose to, who was sleeping with my assistant.” I pushed away from the door and started pacing. “I’m in no position to be attracted to anyone. Especially not my neighbor.”
