Time is truly ticking for us and whatever it is we were doing here. We have a day. Two at most.
It doesn’t feel like enough.
“That smells delicious.”
I lift my head to see her watching me, a sly smile on those pretty lips that only a few hours earlier had been wrapped sinfully around my cock.
My body comes to life at the mere thought of her and what we’d done, but I quickly shut down that train of thought.
As much as I’d happily take my girl again and again, she needs to rest. She’s got to be sore after what we did, and I don’t want to overwhelm her.
Though something tells me that won’t happen.
“You’re delicious,” I reply, making her laugh. “I’m making stew,” I tell her. “You need to keep up your strength.”
“Is that right?”
She’s so sassy. Even from a distance, I can see the way her eyes flash with challenge. She likes to tease and push me. And God help me, I like to be pushed by her.
“Finish what you’re doing,” I tell her. “I’ll come join you as soon as this is ready to simmer.”
Like the brat she is, Tessa runs her tongue along her lower lip beforesucking the end of her pen into her mouth with a wicked grin.
I shake my head and turn my attention back to the vegetables that need slicing, or we’re never going to eat.
Just like my work in the shop, the steady rhythm of the knife anchors me.
Measure. Cut. Repeat.
It’s simple and predictable.
Unlike everything else in my life at the moment.
My gaze drifts back to her again. She’s once more immersed in her writing. The flicker of the firelight dances over the bare skin on her legs, and the late afternoon sun casts her in a warm glow.
She looks content.
I let that thought travel through me. Could Tessa truly be happy here on the mountain? With me?
Would she even be sitting here right now if the storm hadn’t brought her to me? If my best friend hadn’t been away on a business trip? If things hadn’t lined up the way they had, would we have crossed that line?
Would my heart be feeling things it hadn’t felt in years—no. It hasn’t felt themever.
Outside, the sky keeps clearing, the light stretching across the rough floorboards.
But instead of relief, all I feel is a quiet dread of what will happen when she doesn’t have to stay anymore.
I let myself feel that. But only for a second before I let it go.
Because standing here worrying about tomorrow isn’t going to buy me an extra hour with her.
I steal another look at my girl. Her pretty face is screwed up in thought as her pen scribbles furiously on the page in front of her.
She’s not counting the minutes. So why the hell am I?
Maybe the storm didn’t just trap us together. Maybe it handed me something I’ve been too damn stubborn to realize was missing.
I don’t know what’ll happen in the coming days, but I do know that right now she’s here. With me.
