She pressed herself up on her feet, my gaze landing on her sweet cleavage.
I nearly growled, annoyed that I was so drawn to her. I didn’t like being drawn to anyone. It was a choice, like a commitment to myself, to stay as far away from people as I could.
“Trees don’t talk back. I like that.” I spit, turning on my heel and heading off down the side of the garage.
“I think they talk, if you listen.” Her voice was soft on the breeze and I turned to find her looking up at the towering hardwoods and evergreens that secluded me from civilization. “I always feel so at peace in the woods. No wonder you love it here.”
I almost choked on my own tongue when her eyes finally landed on my brutally hard ones. I felt so damn harsh at that moment compared to all her soft curves and quiet beauty. A woman like that didn’t belong here, not with a man like me. She deserved fancy dinners and elegant dates, not a man with calloused hands and a love for solitude.
“I’ve never shared this place with anyone. Guess that’s why I wasn’t sure what to expect when Bruno met you. I got him after Rita kept nagging me about the lack of security up here. He isn’t normally so friendly. I had no idea he could lick like that.”
Her eyebrows shot up, confusing me at first until I recognized the possible double meaning of my statement.
Did I want to lick her until she was a quivering shaking mess beneath me? Hell yes, but that didn’t mean a damn thing.
Little Miss Winters and I were a business arrangement, nothing more, nothing less.
“Is this the cabin?” She whispered, eyes wide as she peered over my shoulder.
“That’s it. I apologize, it’s in a real state. I’ve been trying to clean it out and get it ready for you. It’s not as perfect as I would want it to be. Most of them still have the same charm they had a hundred years ago.”
“It’s a hundred years old?” Her eyes trailed over the hand-wrought hardwood logs.
“More, actually, but no one’s been taking care of it. I lived in it the summer I built the cabin I live in now. It was a bit like camping out because the roof leaked so damn much, but it was an adventure. You never know how vulnerable you are until you sleep outside in the woods.”
She was still watching me, riveted. Even when we’d stepped into the one-room cabin, her eyes weren’t on it, but on me.
“You did all this repair work yourself?” Her eyes finally broke my gaze and looked up at the ceiling. “It’s beautiful.”
“Beautiful?” I looked up, almost seeing the intricate grains of the red-hued cedar I’d used to shore up the beams of the roof.
“It looks like art, see? Where you botched out the wood and fit it into the butterfly joint? It’s like a perfect fitting puzzle piece. And the variations in the coloring here?” She ran her fingers delicately along a beam I’d only just fit into place yesterday morning. “It’s like the design a wave makes across the sand, like a fingerprint in the history of the wood.”
And then it was my turn to be totally fucking taken with her. It’s good she was focused on the details of the finish, because my eyes were frozen on the way her delicate throat bobbed when she spoke and the way her plump lips formed a delicate bow when she was admiring my work.
Hell, why did the first renter at Shephard’s Lodge have to be so pretty?
Bruno wagged his tail at my side, a soft whine coming from him before Miss Winters turned and bent, holding his furry cheeks in her palms and cooing at him. “What a sweet boy. Are you hungry?”
I cracked a grin then, realizing she had both of us drowning in her sweet spell.
“Thought I’d make dinner tonight up at the house. You’re welcome to join Bruno and I. It’s not fancy. That’s not really our style.”
“Good.” She stood, eyes bright and landing on me. “I like that.”
I nodded, trying to steal my eyes back from her. If this was how she made the kids feel at school–seen and heard–I imagined she must be a pretty damn good teacher. The best, if I had to guess.
Thickwood was lucky to have her.
And I was starting to feel like so was I.
“How do you know all that about wood? Most people don’t realize how beautiful it is. They see it more as a functional material.” I said, closing the door behind us.
“My grandfather was a woodworker. He even built my grandmother her dream home. His favorite thing to do was to show me pieces of wood. I grew up staring at wood grain for hours at a time.” She shrugged, zipping up a sweater with bright yellow bananas on it. As we walked up the path that led the few dozen yards to my doorstep, I watched her out of the corner of my eye, admiring the way she admired my favorite place. I never imagined a woman could feel so at home here, but hell if she didn’t look it. With Bruno trotting up the steps at her side and that pretty dress swishing around her calves, it shocked me how she looked downright at home here.