“Uh, I came solo.”
I glanced at her, “All the way from Boston?”
“Yeah,” she laughed softly. “Coming to Red Oak Mountain is something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time. I ran into iton a travel forum a few years back and put it on my list of things to do. I thought I’d be here with…” She trailed off, and I heard her footsteps falter slightly before she caught herself. “Well, I decided to come even if I couldn’t talk any of my friends into taking the vacation.”
I didn’t pry, but I wondered who she’d been about to say. A boyfriend? A husband?
My eyes dropped to her left hand before I could stop myself, but in the darkness I couldn’t make out whether she wore a ring. I’d have to check later when we got to the cabin and had some light.
Not that it mattered. She was a tourist. I didn’t mess around with tourists.
But still. If shedidhave a boyfriend, he was an idiot for not coming along. A soft city woman like her shouldn’t be wandering around in the wilderness by herself.
If I had a woman like Leah, I wouldn’t let her take a trip like this alone.
The thought caught me off guard, and I shoved it aside as the old trapper cabin came into view through the trees.
“Here we are. Home sweet home. At least for the night.”
I set down my pack on the small covered porch, then did a quick circuit of the structure. I checked the roof for any obvious damage from the storm, tested the door hinges, and made sure the chimney flue was still intact. The old trapper cabin had weathered worse than a spring rainstorm in its time, but it never hurt to be careful.
“Looks solid,” I said, pushing the door open. “Come on in. I’ll get a fire going.”
The cabin was dark and cold, filled with the scent of dust and the faint musk of the bear pelts hanging on the walls. I crossed to the stone fireplace and crouched down, pulling my pack open to grab the fire-starting supplies I always carried.
“You can relax,” I told her over my shoulder. “This won’t take long.”
She settled onto one of the wooden chairs while I worked.
First, I cleared out the old ash from the fireplace, then arranged a small nest of dry tinder I’d pulled from my pack. It consisted of birch bark shavings and a few scraps of fatwood I’d carved off a stump last week. Over that I built a teepee of kindling, thin dry sticks no thicker than my pinky, leaving plenty of gaps for airflow.
“Have you ever built a fire?” I asked, hitting my ferro rod against the striker. Sparks showered down onto the tinder and caught immediately. A small flame licked up through the birch bark.
“Does a gas fireplace count?”
I chuckled, leaning down to blow gently on the flame. “Not really. Come here. I’ll show you. Everyone should know how. It could save your life someday.”
She moved closer, crouching beside me, and I was suddenlyveryaware of how good she smelled. Everything about Leah was soft and inviting, including whatever perfume she’d put on this morning.
“You start small,” I said, my voice coming out rough. “Tinder first, then kindling, then bigger fuel. And you need airflow. Fire needs oxygen to breathe.”
I added a few larger sticks as the kindling caught, then finally a couple of split logs from the stack beside the hearth. Within minutes we had a decent blaze going, warm air starting to push back against the chill.
“That’s impressive,” she said quietly, her eyes resting on me like I was a superhero or something. Not a man who’d built a basic fire any rookie outdoorsman could accomplish.
“Naw. Just takes practice.” I stood and grabbed the old cast-iron pot from the display table, checking it for rust beforehanging it on the fireplace hook. “Hope you like soup. I’ve got a couple of packets on me.”
I dug out the instant soup mix from my backpack and poured it into the pot with some water from my canteen, then set it over the flames to heat.
“You have everything in there,” she marveled.
“It pays to be prepared. The only thing I don’t have in this backpack is a lock pick set. Don’t usually needthatin the woods. But after this, I might need to add one,” I grinned back at her.
The fire was putting out good warmth now, enough that my damp wool sweater was starting to steam slightly. I needed to get it dry. Right now it was wet enough that it was pulling heat from me.
Without thinking too much about it, I pulled the sweater over my head and draped it across one of the chairs near the fire.
The cool air hit my bare skin, and I heard a small intake of breath behind me.
