"But when it does," she presses. "I mean... I can't stay here forever. I have my own place."
"Your place is a wreck," I say bluntly.
She bristles. "It has potential."
"It has rot. And a leaking roof. And no insulation."
"I'm working on it!"
"I know." I reach across the table, covering her hand with mine. My palm completely engulfs hers. "That's why I'm going to help you."
"I can't pay you," she says quickly. "I have some savings, but the inheritance wasn't exactly a windfall."
"I don't want your money, Avery."
"Then what do you want?"
I look at her. The pulse beating in her throat. The faint mark on her neck where I bit her.
I want you safe. I want you here. I want you to never look at another man the way you look at me.
"We'll figure it out," I say instead. "Labor trade. You cook. I build."
She narrows her eyes. "That sounds incredibly sexist."
I smirk. "You don't know how to use a hammer, Avery. And I’m tired of being the only one who can sear a steak. It’s called playing to our strengths."
She laughs. The sound settles something in my chest.
"Deal," she agrees.
"Deal."
I finish my coffee. The urge to go back to bed, to drag her with me and spend the rest of the day exploring every inch of her, pulls at me. But the itch remains. The need to secure the perimeter.
"I'm going to go down to your place," I say, standing. "Check the damage from the storm. Get a list of materials."
"I should come with you."
"No." I say it too fast. I soften my tone. "Your ankle is still swollen. Rest it today. If you hurt it worse, you're no good to me."
She frowns, looking down at her ankle. Still puffy.
"Fine," she sighs. "But take pictures. I want to see how bad the porch is."
"I will."
I grab my coat again. I need to go back down there. Need to cover the blood in the snow before she sees it. Need to reinforce that door. Need to set a few traps. Just in case Lanky and Smoker decide to be brave.
I walk over to her chair. I lean down, capturing her mouth in a kiss. Possessive. Deep. She tastes like coffee and syrup. She melts into it, hands gripping my shirt.
When I pull away, she looks dazed.
"Lock the door behind me," I command.
"Oliver, we're in the middle of nowhere."
"Lock it."
