“Make yourself at home,” I tell her, already turning toward the kitchen. “This storm’s not going anywhere for a while, and judging by the state of that road, neither are we.”
Chapter Three
Tessa
The cabin is cozy, but bigger than it looked from the outside.
The main room has a vaulted ceiling, making the space look bigger than it really is. The focal point is the massive stone fireplace along the back wall with a couch positioned in front of it.
The kitchen’s off to one side, with what looks to be a large, handcrafted pine table. I don’t know much about furniture, but I can tell it’s high quality.
In fact, all the furniture in the cabin looks high-quality and handcrafted. And not at all like the bachelor, middle-of-nowhere furnishings I would have expected way up on the mountain.
My body is still buzzing after the treacherous drive up the mountain, or maybe it was the way Holt held me in his arms and carried me effortlessly from the truck that has my skin on fire?
At five-seven, I’m not a small woman. My curves are plentiful, and while I wouldn’t consider myselfbig, I am definitely not petite like many of my friends back at school. And I’ve most definitely never been carried by a man as if it were no big deal.
Then again, I shouldn’t expect anything less of Holt. After all, he’d been the standard I’d measured every man against since I was old enough to start caring about boys. In a weird way, it’s fitting that he’s my savior now.
I push the thought out of my head, because it’s nothing more than a child’s fantasy—right?—and quickly riffle through my duffle bag.
Holt insisted I take his bedroom for the night and deposited my things in there before I could argue.
His bedroom is clean and simple. The faint scent of him lingers in the air. A combination of wood, soap, and something uniquely Holt.
Man.
It feels personal to be in his space, but I can’t let my mind go there. Not yet.
I move into the attached bathroom, quickly wash my face, and pull my hair back from my face into a long ponytail.
Just like the rest of the cabin, his bedroom is also bigger than I’d expect for a small cabin in the woods. But it has to be to accommodate the giant bed that’s the focal point of the room.
It feels bigger than a king-size and, like every other piece I’ve seen in the cabin, is handcrafted from a light wood, with darker pieces inlaid to look like mountains on the headboard.
It’s a piece of art.
I change quickly, pulling on some warmer clothes, and when I come back out, he’s got a fire going. The flames crackle softly, throwing heat and warm light across the room.
I stand in the doorway and watch him moving through the space with quiet efficiency.
“Hey,” he says when he sees me. “You find everything okay?”
“I did. Thank you.” I cross the space toward him, but he moves quickly toward the kitchen, dodging my approach.
“You don’t have to give up your room,” I say. “I know you probably weren’t?—”
“It’s fine.” He gestures with his head toward a small hall at the back of the cabin. “I have a guest room. I’ll stay back there.”
“Oh.” I spin on my heel. “If you have a guest room, I’ll just stay?—”
“No.” His voice booms with authority, and I freeze in place. “No,” he says, softer this time. “I mean, it’s not really set up as a guest room. I use it more for storage than anything else. It’s not suitable for…well, it’s…you’ll stay in my room.”
There doesn’t seem to be any room for argument, so I let it go with a slight nod of acknowledgment and move toward the dining table instead, where he’s set out bowls and cups.
Dinner is easy. Soup heated on the stove with thick slices of bread. Nothing fancy, but better than the takeout I’ve been eating for the last few days.
We sit across from each other, the large table between us feeling far too big. The silence stretches until finally I ask, “You get a lot of company?”
