I head back to the cabin. At least there I know I don’t have to worry about prying eyes.
Chapter Eight
Felix
The timer startles me from my daydream. I pull the casserole from the oven, the savory aroma of beef and vegetables filling the small cabin. I’m not sure what’s come over me, but I’m imagining life back here in Collier’s Creek. There’s a lot to be done around here and my head’s filled with a list of things I’d like to do. I imagine the cabins as they were in their heyday, before time and Dad’s health decline took their toll. But my stay here is meant to be temporary; I’ll have to work on a plan and figure out a way to help Uncle Shawn when I’m gone.
I glance around, ensuring everything is in place—the table set, the cushions plumped, a fire crackling away in the fireplace. I change the playlist on my phone so that soft music fills the space. Maybe the change in pace will help calm the nervous energy that courses through me as I wait Kit’s arrival.
I’ve been thinking about him all day, our conversation from yesterday replaying in my mind. The way he focused on me, his smile. Maybe it’s just lust, but I felt a connection, an attraction that’s impossible to ignore.
A knock at the door jolts me back. I take a deep breath, trying to slow my racing heart. Opening the door, I’m momentarily speechless seeing Kit standing there. He’s wearing a jacket over dark jeans, paired with a gray knit sweater with a zip at the throat. The short scruff along his jaw has been trimmed and his dark hair swept back from his forehead. He’s so GQ cover worthy, I almost groan.
“Hey! I’m so glad you could make it,” I say, trying to appear cool as I step aside. “Come on in.”
Kit enters, glancing around. I try to see the cabin through his eyes. Homely? Rustic? A little tired?
“Something smells amazing.” He holds out a bottle of red wine.
“Just a beef and veggie casserole. And thanks, this looks great,” I say, accepting the wine.
“Thanks for having me over. It’s been a while since I’ve had a home-cooked meal.”
“It’s nice to have the company. Make yourself comfortable.”
He shrugs off his jacket and I hang it on the hook near the door, then take the wine to the kitchen counter and hunt for a corkscrew. “Did you have a productive day?” I ask as I open another drawer and rummage through the utensils.
“I didn’t get as much done as I would have liked, but things are progressing.”
I look up to see him standing in front of the fireplace, holding his hands to the warmth. The shadows of his cheekbones are accentuated by the flickering flames. He flicks his gaze to mine and I immediately duck my head, delving back into the drawer. “There should be one in here somewhere,” I mutter.
When I next look up, Kit is standing nearby. “I assume you don’t drink a lot of wine,” he says with a wry grin.
“What gives it away?”
He laughs, a proper laugh that comes from somewhere deep inside him, and just like that, I relax.
“Do you like beer?” I ask. “Or there’s a bottle of whiskey around here somewhere.”
“Too much of anything is bad, but too much good whiskey is barely enough.” he responds.
I raise a brow.
“Mark Twain.”
“Ahh. Got ya. So whiskey it is?”
Kit shrugs. “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
“Oh, I know that one! When Harry Met Sally.”
Kit’s laughter fills the room. “Close enough.”
I grab a bottle of beer from the fridge. It’s my usual Collier’s Pale Ale, but I decide to mix it up a bit. I find the bottle of rye Uncle Shawn usually drinks and put both bottles onto the counter. I take two highballs and two shot glasses from the cupboard. Kit is watching my every move. “Have you ever tried a Wyoming Boilermaker?” I ask.
“I can’t say that I have.”
“Not exactly fine wine, but it’s definitely an experience and something you should try at least once.”
