I pulled the truck to a stop near the doorstep of my cabin. “Seems so.”
I exited the truck, trying not to think of her when all I could do was think of her. I didn’t like the way she made my chest ache whenever she smiled. I pushed a hand over my face, coming around the nose of my truck and avoiding her gaze as I opened the passenger door for her.
“You like venison stew?”
She didn't reply, forcing me to meet her eyes. She looked...offended.
“I’m not really a red meat kind of girl.”
“What kind of girl are you, exactly?” I tipped my head, gritting my teeth as I mentally counted the four stacks of venison piled in my freezer.
“I like seafood and fish.” Her smile was hopeful.
I nodded, slamming the door behind her and following as she ran up the steps for shelter under the porch roof. “I’ve got a month’s worth of rainbow trout in deep freeze. Aspen usually keeps me stocked with soups and casseroles but she’s been busier at the cafe lately.”
“Don’t worry about me.” She waved me off as we walked into my kitchen. Hot stew bubbled on the counter and filled the house with the scent of venison and thyme and gravy. “It smells great in here, you must be quite a cook.”
“I’ve been a bachelor for two decades. I don’t starve. Aspen is the real talent—takes after her mom—” I halted, the memories still stung.
She froze, eyes trailing around the kitchen. “Your home is beautiful...”
“It’s a work in progress.”
Her eyes dropped to the floorboards, my woodworking tools stacked next to my hunting boots. “You built this place yourself?”
“From top to bottom.” I scooped stew into a bowl and offered it to her.
Her eyes widened before she smiled and took it.
“Spoons are in that drawer.” I nodded next to the kitchen sink as the odd feeling of having a stranger in the house washed over me. A chill lit along my skin like an arctic blast, my heartbeat thundering to a slow stop as I tried to concentrate on the bubbling soup.
My vision darkened as old memories danced in my brain. A wedding. A honeymoon. A baby. A funeral.
My chest ached like it’d been sliced with a serrated edge.
“This is delicious.” The soft, bird-like quality of my Petal brought me back to reality.
“Ouch. Shit.” I dropped the soup ladle into the bubbling pot.
She was on me in an instant, cold tap already on as she cupped my big paw in her delicate hands.
“Youactuallysmell like rose petals.”
She grinned, continuing to stroke the now reddening patch of skin on my wrist. “Thank you.”
She was so graceful, I was so gruff. “Thanks.”
I backed away from the sink, wrapping the hand towel around my wrist to dry it off. I hid the wince as the cotton grated the fresh burn.
“Let me.” She scooped the stew into my bowl until full, and then brought it to the kitchen table that I never used.
She pushed a stack of hunting guides and magazines aside, then made room for herself at the other seat.
Winchester curled up on the floor near the door, eyes bouncing from me to her before he whined once and stood.
Poppy grinned, scooping a few chunks of meat out of the pot and onto a plate for my dog. “Give it a minute, it’s too hot for you right now.”
She patted my dog on the muzzle and he wagged his tail appreciatively. She sat, and his disloyal ass cuddled right up to her thigh as she began to eat.
