“I understood what you meant.” But he was trying not to smile, which meant I was winning. “I see you’ve graduated to appropriate outerwear.”
I looked down at my jacket. “It’s the only thing I have that works for this weather. Gladys told me I’d freeze wearing my LA clothes.”
“She wasn’t wrong.”
“Apparently not.” I shifted the basket to my other hand. “I’m here to stock up. Food, firewood, possibly a space heater if they sell them. What about you?”
“Same. Minus the space heater. My fire management skills are clearly superior to yours.” He was fully smiling now, and it transformed his entire face. Made him look younger. Less guarded.
God, he was hot.
“Your fire management skills are the only reason I didn’t become a human popsicle last night,” I said. “I owe you. Can I buy you a coffee? I saw they have a deli counter.”
He hesitated, and I watched him wage some internal battle. Then: “Sure. But I’m buying my coffee. I don’t need charity.”
“It’s not charity. It’s gratitude for wood.” I couldn’t help myself. “For the firewood. That you gave me.”
“Stop saying it like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you know exactly what you’re doing.”
I grinned. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
We ended up at the deli counter, where a woman in her fifties took our orders with a knowing look that suggested she’d already heard about the two city boys renting cabins. Small towns. You couldn’t hide anything.
“So,” I said as we waited for our coffees. “My fire stayed lit all night, by the way. Thanks to your wood.”
Farley’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Did it now?”
“It did. Woke up nice and warm.” I paused, letting my voice drop just a little. “Your wood was very... effective.”
“I’m glad my wood met your needs.” His lips twitched, fighting a smile.
“More than met them. It was perfect. Exactly the right size. Burned all night long.”
“Jesus Christ,” Farley mumbled, his cheeks cherry red. But he was smiling now, a genuine smile that made my chest feel tight. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m grateful. There’s a difference.” I leaned against the counter, letting my shoulder brush his. “Though I need to get my own wood today. Can’t keep borrowing yours, as much as I’d like to.”
“Probably a good idea. I need my wood for myself.”
We stared at each other, both trying not to laugh, and I felt something shift between us. Something easier. Lighter.
“Okay,” I said. “New topic before we get thrown out of Shifflett’s for inappropriate wood conversation.”
“Probably wise.”
“So.” I shifted the basket to my other hand. “What are you shopping for?”
“The basics. Food. Coffee. More bourbon.” He paused. “Possibly cat food, even though I’m definitely not keeping that cat.”
“Right. The cat you’re not keeping that ate your fancy salmon.”
“Exactly that cat.”
“Does the cat you’re not keeping have a name?”
