“You said the cabin is used for hunting.”
“During the summer, it’s used to hunt fish,” Van said with a grin. “Instead of a gun, a fishing pole is used. There’s a large lake nearby.”
“Nectarines.” I reminded.
Leaving the waders on the bed, Van put his coat back on, his orange hat, and his gloves. When he turned my way, he winked. “I don’t think I’ve ever looked more forward to seeing that old shirt.”
His gaze lingered a bit longer than it should’ve before he turned and disappeared beyond the door, leaving a powdering of snow on the floor in his wake.
Despite the gust of cold air, Van’s comment warmed me from my head to my toes.
How was it that this man I barely knew could incite that visceral response with a relatively benign comment about clothing and the man I was engaged to couldn’t or didn’t make me feel that way even when he was kissing and touching me?
I refused to give that any more thought.
Besides, I wasn’t engaged.
Not anymore.
Lifting my left hand, I stared at my bare ring finger.
The last time I saw the huge four-carat diamond, it was on the counter next to Skylar’s phone and a note:
Beth needs you. Goodbye, Julia.
Of course, since I left, Skylar has tried to call and text. I haven’t answered.
Taking one last look at the closed door, I dropped the quilt. As I reached for Van’s flannel shirt, the tempered air sent goose bumps over my skin and caused my nipples to tighten beneath my bra. Without thinking, I brought the soft material to my nose, closed my eyes, and inhaled.
The fresh scent of soap, the aroma of fire, and the spice of cologne all created an enticing concoction that even in this short time had me thinking of Van. Slipping my arms into the sleeves, I realized that Van had been right; this could be a dress. As I began to button the front, the tails in the front and back came to just above my knees.
While I had dresses that were shorter, wearing this man’s shirt—a man whom I barely knew—somehow felt more scandalous. I was in the process of rolling the sleeves up when the door opened. As he’d done before, Van used his booted foot to kick the door closed. This time, instead of logs, his arms were filled with a wooden crate that he set down on the floor. Between the slats of wood, the orange spheres made my mouth water.
After shedding the hat, gloves, and coat, Van retrieved the crate from the floor and brought it to the kitchen counter. Once there, he turned in my direction and smiled. Without a word, his green stare scanned me from my messy hair to my bare toes.
With each passing second, I became more self-conscious, and yet he didn’t speak. Van’s lips formed a straight line, his cheeks rose, and his eyes sparkled with flecks of gold I was just now noticing.
“Thanks for the shirt,” I said, slapping my thighs with the palms of my hands. “It’s better than wearing that quilt.”
“It definitely is.”
His deeper tenor and slower cadence twisted my core and returned my nipples to their hardened state from the earlier cool air.
“You’re making me self-conscious. What are you thinking?”
Van walked around me, all the way around, the entire time keeping his eyes on me. “I think it’s better if I don’t say.”
“What?”
His smile grew. “I’m thinking that if I ever plan an abduction in the middle of a blizzard, I need to remember a flannel shirt because on you, it’s sexy as hell.”
I lifted my hands to my cheeks, feeling the growing heat.
Van took a step toward me. “Come on, Julia, there has to be a man in your life who tells you how damn sexy you are.”
Swallowing, I turned away, avoiding the subject, and began to open the crate of nectarines.
As I tugged on a plastic cord holding the lid in place, Van’s hand came over mine.