She looks good walking around my cabin, like she was always meant to be in this space. Even the blue of her hair blends in with the soft greens and blues of the curtains and pillows on the couch.
That’s why it’s so scary—waiting to see her reaction, wondering what she’s thinking about something I worked so hard on.
If she doesn’t like it, doesn’t feel the same way I do when I’m in here, it should shatter me more than I would ever admit to anyone.
Blood rushes in my ears, my heart beating far too fast under my ribs as I wait for her response.
Lucky’s eyes move over all the hand-hewn logs and the massive beams cut from trees that grew on this very mountain. Her wide gaze sweeps up the hand-carved railing of the stairs that lead to the loft above us, then down the stone fireplace that rises two stories in the living room and to the small kitchen at the back of the cabin.
Her jaw falls open. “You did this?”
I nod, rubbing my neck awkwardly and shifting restlessly where I still stand at the door. “With my brothers, yeah.”
“Liam, it’s…” She gapes, turning to face me with awe overtaking her beautiful face. “It’s absolutely stunning. You’re incredibly talented.”
My cheeks heat, and I tip my head slightly, overwhelmed by the compliment even when it was exactly what I needed to hear. I take the opportunity to toe off my boots and set them beside the door. “Thank you.”
I peek up at her again as I right myself, and she spins in place, her head tipped back, examining the high beams over us that come together in a triangle peak.
“I’m not just saying that, Liam. Really.” She takes it all in again, as if she can’t believe what she’s seeing. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
A second passes, and suddenly, that far-away look she seems to get anytime we talk about family or the past returns to her eyes.
The tight smile she offers doesn’t reach her eyes. “All the houses I grew up in were very plain. To be honest, I think most of the families I lived with were worried about doing anything too fancy, that all the foster kids would destroy the place.”
My heart clenches with her confession. Pain for the little girl she was replacing any personal concerns about her liking everything.
She trails her fingers over the bear carved into the newel post. They dip across the carefully crafted features of its face, its fur, its paws.
“Killian did that.”
Her lips curve as she examines it. “I assume there are bears up here on the mountain?”
I nod, leaning against the wall to let her survey everything without my interference. “Coyotes, bears, an occasional mountain lion.”
She cringes and glances at Gizmo, who’s sniffing every inch of the place, his little tail going a mile a minute during his exploration. “He’s lucky he didn’t get snatched up that night.”
“I agree.”
The fact that they were out near that road, alone, at almost midnight has bothered me since the moment she walked into that diner, but she never offered any sort of explanation for why. By now, I trust that she wasn’t trying to break into McBride Lumber or doing anything else nefarious, but I don’t like that she put herself and Giz in that dangerous of a situation.
Not one fucking bit.
“Are you ever going to tell me what you were doin’ out there?”
She pauses and turns back to me, and I can see the hesitation in her gaze.
Shit.
I’ve gone and ruined the moment by pushing her when I only told her an hour ago that I wasn’t going to force her to reveal anything she wasn’t ready to. But asking her these things just feels so natural because I want to know her.
I want to understand her.
I want her to let me in.
I don’t want her to run.
“You don’t have to?—”
