Page 33 of Auctioned to the Devil

Then stop.

The cabin is warm.

Not just warm. Comfortable.

A fire burns behind a stone hearth. Thick rugs cover wide-plank floors. Leather furniture surrounds a low wooden table, and books fill shelves along one wall. The kitchen has dark cabinets, butcher-block counters and copper pans hanging above a massive island.

Everything is clean.

Organized.

Masculine without looking like someone decorated it using a sporting goods catalog.

“This is disappointing.”

Caleb drops my bag.

“What?”

“I expected at least one animal head.”

“No.”

“Bear rug?”

“No.”

“Possibly a human skull?”

He stares at me.

I smile.

“You’ve heard the rumors.”

“Apparently everyone in Devil’s Peak has.”

“Most are bullshit.”

“Most?”

He takes off his coat.

My attention catches on his shoulders.

That shirt should be illegal.

The black fabric stretches across his back when he hangs his coat, and I force myself to examine the bookshelf instead.

Safer.

Books don’t have sexy forearms.

“Which ones aren’t bullshit?” I ask.

“You ask too many questions.”

“You answer too few.”