Thunder cracked overhead like a whip.
"Three miles!" Kevin crowed. "It's getting closer!"
Pete whined softly from the back.
"It's okay, boy," Kevin soothed. "We're almost there, right Shane?"
"Right there." Shane pointed ahead where April could just make out the dark shape of a cabin through the downpour. "Hang on."
He came to the end of the driveway, which was at the base of a rock outcropping. A flight of wooden stairs led to the cabin about ten to fifteen feet above. Rain hammered the roof of the SUV, so loud April had to raise her voice to be heard.
"On three, we run for it!"
"I'll get Pete!" Kevin was already unbuckling.
“Hang on, you two,” Shane said, laughing. “Stay here. Let me get Pete out first, then we’ll make a run for it.” He handed April a collapsible umbrella.
“Don’tyouneed this?” But Shane was already out the door and into the storm. A moment later, the back of the SUV opened and Shane let Pete out.
"Okay, one—two—THREE!"
April and Kevin’s doors flew open and they entered the deluge, which seemed to be coming in sideways now. April shrieked as cold rain hit her skin, soaking through her shirt in seconds. She grabbed Kevin and held the umbrella over their heads as all of them raced up the steps to the covered porch. Lightning flashed again, turning everything stark white for a heartbeat.
Shane got the door open and they tumbled inside, laughing and dripping and breathless. Pete shook himself immediately, spraying water everywhere, which made Kevin dissolve into giggles. He decided to shake himself just like the dog.
"Kevin! Sorry about the floor," April told Shane, but he was already halfway through the great room and saying something about grabbing towels from somewhere. "Hang on, let me help at least."
But April found herself looking around instead, taking in Shane's space for the first time.
The cabin was beautiful. Not showy, not trying too hard—just clean lines and warm wood and a kind of masculine comfort that fit Shane perfectly. Log walls glowed honey-gold in the soft light. Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out on forest, rain streaming down the glass in sheets. A massive stone fireplace dominated one wall, cold now but clearly well-used. Its mantel was lined with photos.
The furniture was simple but quality—a big brown leather couch that looked butter-soft, draped with sheepskin throws. More throws scattered on the floor over what had to be radiant heat, because even soaked to the skin, April could feel warmth rising from the polished wood beneath her feet. Woven rugs—Afghan, maybe, from his time overseas?—added splashes of deep red and navy on the bare floors.
Everything had a place. Nothing cluttered or messy. Neat as a pin, the way Shane had always kept his locker, his truck, his life.
It was so perfectlyhimthat April felt her throat go tight.
"So." Shane appeared beside her with an armful of towels, watching her face with an expression she couldn't quite read. Hopeful? Nervous? "What do you think?"
April turned to look at him—really look at him, standing in his own home, offering her a towel and waiting for her verdict.
"It's perfect," she said, and meant it. "Very you."
His smile could have powered half of Colorado. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." She took the towel, resisting the urge to step closer, to touch him, to say something ridiculous likeI could be happy herewhen they'd barely started whatever this was between them. "It's really nice, Shane."
Kevin was already exploring, Pete trotting at his heels and shaking off water every few steps. "Whoa! Shane, you've got a huge TV! And is that a—Mom, he's got a whole shelf of books about wilderness survival!"
"Don't touch anything," April called, but there was no heat in it. Kevin was too excited, and honestly, so was she. “Actually, grab any book you want…if that’s okay with you?” she asked Shane, but he was already chuckling.
“Absolutely. I love that you’re comfortable enough to offer up my library.” Shane handed her another towel. "You're not too wet, but the house is a little chilly. I can turn up the heat, or..." He hesitated, then pulled a flannel shirt from a hook by the door. Navy blue plaid, soft from washing. "You could wear this. If you want."
April took it, fingers brushing his. The flannel was warm and when she held it up she caught the scent—laundry detergent and something underneath that was pure Shane. Clean and masculine and a little bit woodsy, like he'd been standing too close to the fireplace, or maybe the scent just lived in his clothes now.
She wanted to bury her face in it.
Instead, she smiled. "Thanks. I'll just—" She gestured vaguely toward what she assumed was a bathroom.
