The cabin smells like pine, leather, and coffee. Simple furniture, a big stone fireplace already crackling (someone must have come by), and one very prominent king-sized bed visible through the open bedroom door.
One bed. Called it.
Harlan sets me on the couch and kneels to tug off my boot. His fingers work the laces with surprising dexterity. “I’ll call Eli to check this out. He’s the medic.”
“I’m okay, really. Just a twist.” But I don’t pull away. I watch the way his dark hair falls over his forehead, the flex of muscle in his forearms, the absolute focus he gives my stupid ankle like it’s the most important thing in the world right now.
When he looks up, our eyes lock. The charged silence stretches. His gaze is intense, protective, with something hotter flickering underneath. Like he wants to wrap me in blankets and never let the world touch me again. Like he’s already deciding I’m his to keep safe.
My heart does a cartwheel. Dangerous, Sunny. This man could ruin you for all other cowboys.
I smile anyway, bright and wobbly. “So, Harlan, got any of that famous Montana hospitality? Maybe some coffee? Or should I just keep talking until you crack a real smile? Because I’ve got stories. So many stories.”
He stands slowly, towering over me, but there’s the tiniest softening around his eyes. “Stay put.”
As he heads to the kitchen, I sink back into the couch cushions, ankle throbbing, heart racing, and a ridiculous grin spreading across my face.
Welcome to Haven 7, Sunny. Population: one very grumpy, very gorgeous cowboy who just hauled you out of trouble like it was his job.
And something tells me this is only the beginning of the best kind of trouble.
TWO
HARLAN
This woman’s going to be the fucking death of me. She hasn’t stopped talking since I walked into the kitchen. I prepare her a cup of coffee, and head back into the living area as she babbles on about missing her new job.
I set the mug of coffee on the table in front of her. Black. Strong. My fingers brush hers and the spark that hits me is damn near electric. She nearly drops the cup. Those big blue eyes widen and lock on mine.
"Careful," I say. My voice comes out rougher than I mean it to. Protective instinct I can’t shut off flares hot in my chest. I want to wrap her up, keep her from every bump and bruise the world tries to throw at her.
"See? Already taking care of me," she teases, that bright smile lighting up the whole damn cabin. "This is prime romance novel territory. Next you’ll be insisting I stay here while my ankle heals because the lodge is too far and the storm is coming in. I read the forecast on the way up. Blizzard warnings. Perfect for forced proximity tropes."
I cross my arms and lean against the counter, watching her. She talks a lot. Too much. It should annoy me. Instead it settles something restless in my chest. Makes the cabin feel less empty. "You talk a lot."
"I do. It’s a medical condition. Sunshine overload. Doctors say the only cure is more cowboy." She winks at me. Actually winks. Her cheeks flush pink and I have to look away before I do something reckless like smile back.
A muscle jumps in my jaw. I grab my own mug and drop into the armchair across from her. The fire cracks and pops. Outside the wind is picking up, rattling the windows like it wants in. I should take her to the B&B. Or take her to the main Haven 7 lodge. Get her settled with the other women. Instead I’m already thinking about the blizzard rolling in and how that ankle means she can’t walk the path safely.
Eli shows up twenty minutes later. Good man. Quick with the wrap and the meds. Tells her to stay off the foot. I walk him out, keeping my voice low. "She's staying here tonight. Storm’s coming in fast. Lodge path will be slick."
Eli raises an eyebrow but doesn’t argue. He knows better. "Keep it elevated. Ice every couple hours. And Harlan? Try not to scare her off with that grumpy face."
I grunt and shut the door. Back inside I grab the thick quilt from the chest and the wool socks I knit last winter when the nights got too quiet. "Shower," I say, pointing toward the bathroom.
Her eyes go wide. "Shower… um, with you?"
I nearly laugh at her question, but growl instead. "Shower for you. I’m going to call Nancy at the barn and tell her you won’tbe coming into work until you’re healed up or the storm passes, whichever comes first."
She stands, putting all the pressure on her good ankle. I move in, fast. Like lightning. I help her to the bathroom and show her where the clean towels are.
Fuck, this woman is all pure sunshine and sass.
I step out into the hallway, shutting the door behind me. Fuck. I can’t get the image of what she’d look like naked in the shower. All soaped up and ready for me.
Down, boy.
I head back into the living area, cleaning up the mugs of coffee. I clean while I wait for her to get out of the shower. I can’t stop my mind from picturing what it would be like to kiss her. Taste her. Have her.
