She would be lying if she didn’t admit that the sight was disturbingly attractive. It was good that he kept that grin to aminimum or the ladies of Northfield would break laws all over the place.
He picked up the gun and cuffs and slid them into the back of his jeans in one smooth motion. “There’s no better time to use them, darlin’.”
Lily’s brain short-circuited. Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. Nope. No witty comeback. She gave up on words and fiercely willed the telltale pink flush that she knew was creeping up her neck and cheeks to go away.
“Um.” She coughed, suddenly fascinated by the interior design of the cabin. “Look at all that rustic… paneling. Really cabin-y.”
The sheriff’s grin widened, and she scrambled not to make any more idiotic comments. “Do you—um—chop wood?”
Oh my God.What was wrong with her? She wanted to sink into a puddle of humiliation and die, but the look of amusement on his face when he flicked a glance at her kept her rooted in a belated attempt at dignity. Clearly, she had none.
She wasn’t afraid of Sheriff Callahan, exactly. Logically, she knew he was an upstanding citizen and a good man. A hero, even. The kind of man people called when they needed help.
But he was also tall and broad shouldered and oozed a masculinity that made her very jumpy. He also had another very serious, very impressive “weapon” that she’d been pressed intimately against—naked, oh my God!—that she had no doubt he knew how to use. And Lord help her, that image sent her already overworked nervous system into a full-blown meltdown.
“Yes,” he said with extreme patience that let her know he was feeling anything but. “That’s how we’re going to keep warm. There’s no power or cell service, but we’ve got plenty of canned food, water, and whiskey. It won’t be fun, but we’ll be fine up here for a few days until someone can plowus out.” He was all calm authority again, with no trace of that wicked teasing grin, and Lily breathed a sigh of relief.
Despite herself, a tiny spark of curiosity flared. A part of her, the part that had never done anything unexpected or adventurous, perked up. “What kind of food?” she asked, realizing her stomach was growling. Aside from some toast that morning, she hadn’t eaten all day, and she was starving.
“Canned soup sound good for dinner?” he asked, already turning away. “There’s some in the cupboard.”
“Sure, I’ll look.” Grateful for a task, she crossed the room to explore the kitchen. The cupboards held a mismatched set of utilitarian dishes and cups. On the counter, an electric coffee maker caught her eye. She briefly mourned the absence of coffee for the morning, but even that didn’t get her down.
The alternative, she reminded herself sternly, was being on a honeymoon right now with a man who had lied to her.
She opened another cupboard and scanned the shelves. Her stomach sank. “Um… do you have anything that doesn’t involve meat?”
Callahan turned, one brow raised. “You don’t eat meat?”
“I’m a vegetarian,” she said, a little defensively. “It’s better for the planet.” She shot a quick glance at the mounted deer head on the wall and winced. “And no one wants to eat Bambi,” she muttered under her breath.
“Bambi tastes great in chili,” he said mildly.
She turned back to the pantry with a huff, muttering to herself about Neanderthals. A moment later, she felt him behind her, close enough to raise the fine hairs on her arms. He reached past her, his solid arm brushing hers, and set a can on the counter.
“How about tomato soup and crackers?” he asked.
“Perfect. Thanks,” she said.
When she turned around again, he was lighting tapercandles on the table. The warm glow cast more shadows along the walls and made the room feel even cozier.
“Mood lighting?” she teased.
He shot her another look of infinite patience. “We don’t have power, Lily.”
“It was a joke,” she said, trying not to smile. He was so serious.
“I’m going to get more firewood,” he muttered, shrugging into his coat.
Lily busiedherself heating up two cans of soup in a small saucepan and pouring it into two bowls while Callahan and Cujo went back outside.
When the door opened, a blast of icy wind knifed through the cabin, making the fire in the stove flicker. She shivered, glancing through the window beside the door. Beyond the porch, the world was dark, the night sky swallowed by swirling snow that drifted thick and heavy, blanketing everything in white.
Outside, the dog leaped through the snow with a happiness at odds with his beastly appearance. Callahan tossed a stick and then gave him a good rubdown when he brought it back. She felt better. A man who could love a dog like that had to have a good heart buried under all that gruffness. She hoped so because they were stuck together now.
When he came back inside, stomping his boots to shake off the snow, ice clung to his dark lashes, and his cheeks were red from the wind. His energy sucked up all the air in the cabin and made her jittery again.
“I heated up dinner,” she said, watching surreptitiously as he stripped the sheepskin coat off. It must have been heavyfrom the snow, but his movements were easy. Snow melted along the collar of his flannel as he moved toward her, and it took effort not to stare at the way it clung lovingly to his wide shoulders.
