She’s still got this look about her, like she’s still in shock that she made it out of the storm in one piece.
Cheeks flushed, a mess of stringy golden hair plastered to her face, but her wide hazel eyes,which reflect the firelight, don’t dare shy away from mine. She’s made herself at home, her small hands wrapped around the mug of tea, as she sips. Wearing one of my flannel shirts, which looks like a dress on her.
She should look ridiculous.
But she doesn’t.
She looks like she belongs here, and that’s what shakes me up the most. I’ve had enough strangers in my life, enough betrayals.
My old man always said trust is a tool you don’t hand out unless you want it broken. My so-called best friend proved that three years back. I’ve kept to myself ever since.
It’s simple.
It’s safe.
Or, it was, until Annie showed up.
“You always glare at your guests like that, or am I just special?”
“Don’t get many visitors out here,” I grunt, keeping my answers short.
She stands and starts wandering around the room, her eyes taking in the beams overhead, the custom stonework. All the while, I’m more focused on the way my shirt is playing peekaboo on those tanned, toned thighs of hers. Making my fingers flex, wanting to know what they feel like under my touch.
“This place is incredible. Did you build it yourself?”
“Yeah,” is all I say, not bothering to elaborate.
She stops in her tracks, grinning. “Seriously? Like, from scratch? That’s badass.”
I shrug. “It’s what I do.”
She comes back to the sofa, perched on the edge, directly in front of where I’m still leaning up against the doorway. “So, are you from around here, or did you just pick a spot on the map and go full Grizzly Adams?”
Once again, I just nod, trying to keep my gaze from focusing on those long legs of hers.
She laughs, running her fingers through her tangled hair. “You’re a man of few words, Garrett. What do you do…when you’re not rescuing women who get lost in the woods or building things?”
“Cabins. Furniture. My own business,” I say, leaving out all the messy details…the years I wasted on people who didn’t give a shit about me.
“Okay.” She nods. “Well, I work for this insane fashion designer in Charlotte. Elliot. He’s got pink hair; dresses head to toe in pastel every day…looking like a bottle of Pepto had a baby with a disco ball. I swear, he can’t remember my name half the time, but he sure as hell remembers if I bring his latte with one sugar instead of two. Half my job is organizing his chaos, and the other half is apologizing for whatever disaster he’s left in his path.”
She’s talking so fast, trying to make it sound funny, but I can hear how tired she is in her voice, and there’s an edge she thinks I don’t pick up on. I just stand here and listen, letting her words fill the space I’ve tried to keep silent for so long. Then, in the middle of her rambling, her stomach growls, loud. She tries to talk over it, but I catch the way her cheeks start to turn red.
I shake my head and mutter, “When’s the last time you ate?” My voice is rougher than I mean for it to sound, and there’s more concern than I want to show. She tries to brush it off, but I’m already heading toward the kitchen, pulling out bread and cheese, heating the skillet, and setting a pot of coffee to brew.
Behind me, I hear, “Garrett, you really don’t have to cook for me. I’ll be fine. I’m not that hungry anyway.”
I shoot her a look over my shoulder. “Your stomach says otherwise.”
She huffs, folding her arms, being stubborn. “I can wait till I get back to town. I’m not helpless.”
The knife in my hand clatters on the counter as my patience snaps. “Damnit, woman! Let me take care of you.” My voice echoes off the wooden beams, harsher and needier than I meant.
She clamps her lips shut, caught off guard by my sudden outburst. Hell, I think it stunned us both. I grip the edge of the counter, my head down. The silence is thick, electric. All I can think about is how empty this place felt before she showed up, and how easy it’s going to be to let the silence swallow me whole again once she’s gone.
I force myself to look up at her hazel eyes, big and searching. She doesn’t run away or even flinch.
I let go of a long breath. “I’m sorry,” I say in a lower, gruff but honest voice. “Didn’t mean to snap at you like that. I just…it’s been a while since I had anyone to look after.”
