Page 53 of Goode Tidings

Eden nods.

"So does outrage. And horror. Any extreme emotion, really. And I'm seeing all this day after day, and I'm getting angry because the antidote isn't available. So one day I thought fuck it."

Eden grins sweetly. "The idea guy."

A warmth spreads across my chest. I like it when she calls me that. Makes me feel like I matter. Like my existence is a value-add. "My idea hasn't ended up the way I envisioned it."

"How often has anything in life ended up the way you envisioned it?"

"Almost never, I suppose. Can't say I envisioned ending up here at a lakeside cabin that isn't mine."

Eden reaches out, toying with the string hanging from the hood of my sweatshirt. "Me neither." She's quiet, rolling the string between two pinched fingers. "What would you say if I asked you to let me be the idea person for a few weeks?"

"I'd say it depends on what you have up your sleeve."

She crooks an eyebrow. "You don't trust me?"

"Not implicitly, no."

Her mouth shifts into a frown, her lower lip popping out.

"Don't pretend to be hurt by that," I tease, and then I do the stupidest thing. I reach for her, capturing with my thumb and side of my pointer finger the lip she's positioned into a pout. She blinks down at me, heavy breath lengthening the lift and lower of her breasts in that sports bra.

The wind outside picks up, a whoosh through the towering trees beyond this small structure. Inside this little building? Inside my chest? A storm.

Electricity burns through the air between us. My thumb drifts over Eden's mouth, dragging her lower lip. She allows it. Lets me gently tug her.

"What's your idea, Eden?"

I have a few ideas right now, and they all start with me pressing hungry kisses to the hollow of her throat.

A flush stretches over her chest. Her lips move like she wants to speak, and I take back my hand. A flush of embarrassment sweeps over me at the reckless way I've just touched her.

"You were pouting," I explain, as if that's any explanation at all. I'm hot all over. My body feels like it's on fire, and it has nothing to do with my warm clothing.

Eden runs a light touch over her mouth, tracing the path I charted. "Do you do that to Tim the hardware guy when he pouts?"

What the hell came over me? Eden's puffy lower lip popped out and my good sense disappeared. "Only on Mondays and every other Saturday," I croak, attempting to right my wrong with a joke.

"Hmm," Eden says with a note of disbelief. "I'll have to ask him the next time I see him." She clears her throat. Swallows hard. "In the meantime, here's my idea: No More Sad Man Hermit."

Her words penetrate, but they don't make sense. Pushing my chair away from the desk, I sit back, crossing one ankle over the opposite knee, and say, "Please elaborate." I'll listen to anything right now. I just need something to put distance between me and how close I came to stepping over the line with Eden.

Eden squares her shoulders, and though I know the movement is in an attempt to prepare herself to sell me on her idea, it draws my attention to her chest. It's not her fault her sweatshirt is coffee-soaked at the moment; in fact, it's my fault. I force my eyes up to meet hers.

Her eyes twinkle. She's caught me, and she knows it.

"Sorry," I mutter, wishing I could launch myself out of this chair and back into that freezing cold lake.

"Don't be sorry. I'm in front of you in a sports bra. If anything, it's a good sign."

"How's that?"

"You're showing interest. It means you're open to other women."

I'm not, actually. My interest starts and stops with the woman before me. Unfortunately. I've had opportunities over the past two years. Women visiting Snowflake for fall leaf peeping with friends. Women who I've seen in the grocery store, the liquor store, the coffee shop. Women who flirt, who talk, who make it clear their stay is short, and I know what that means. I haven't been interested, or attracted. I reserve intimacy for someone I care about. And those women? I didn't care about them.

But Eden? She wiggled her way into this slice of paradise, this cabin in the woods. She's made me think about her too much. Categorize her smiles. Care.