He straightens and turns toward me.
Up close, he is even more devastating. Weathered in a way that only makes him better. Older than me, definitely. Mid-thirties maybe. Big hands. Strong jaw. Eyes so blue it feels unfair.
“Thank you,” I manage. “I’m Lexie. Lexie Crane.”
Something flickers across his face at my name. Something that looks a little like surprise and a lot like attention.
“Weston Stark.”
Even his name sounds rugged.
I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, painfully aware of everything all at once. My leggings. My oversized sweater. My bare face from the drive. The fact that I probably look like a woman one inconvenience away from a breakdown.
He doesn’t look at me like that, though.
He looks at me like he’s trying to figure out something important.
“You just get in?” he asks.
“About half an hour ago.”
He nods. “The cabin belongs to a friend of my family. I handle the firewood deliveries for the rentals on this side of the ridge.”
Of course he does. Of course the giant mountain man appears at my door carrying wood like some ancient forest god.
“That seems very on brand for this town,” I say before I can stop myself.
His mouth shifts again. Definitely almost a smile this time.
A little thrill flutters through me at the thought that I might be the reason for it.
“I guess it is.”
Silence settles for a second, but it does not feel awkward. It feels charged. Like the room knows something I do not yet.
He studies me, and I suddenly get the wildest urge to tell him everything. About losing my job. About Darren. About how tired I am. About how this place already feels more like peace than the apartment I spent two years paying for.
Instead, I say, “My sister sent me here.”
“Yeah?”
“Emergency mountain recovery plan.”
That actually does earn me a small smile. It hits me right in the chest.
“She smart?”
“The smartest.” I smile back. “Her husband’s from here. That’s how she found the cabin.”
Weston nods once, like that makes sense. Like of course family takes care of you.
“Town’s having a dance tonight.”
“A dance?”
“At the community hall.” He glances toward the window as if checking the light. “Nothing fancy. Music, food, locals pretending they don’t gossip.”
I laugh before I can help it.
