“What’s next on your list?” Her mouth dried out like the Sahara, and her voice came out a throaty whisper.
His mouth lifted on one side in a dangerous smile that threatened to buckle her knees. “You.” His declaration had her eyebrows winging to her hairline. He chuckled. “Just hanging out with you, doing whatever you want to do.”
Her eyes darted to his lips, like they were a compass and his mouth was north. His smile broadened even wider. She was on hazardous terrain with him, ground she’d never been on before.
“Come on. I’ll make us some lunch while you pick a movie to watch.” Bjørn pulled her toward the porch. “I don’t know about you, but I could use some downtime after this morning.”
“Yeah.” She whistled to the dogs as he led her up the porch stairs.
Actually, relaxing in front of the TV sounded wonderful. She wasn’t much for watching a lot of movies. Dad always said the screen rotted a person’s brain, plus there were too many things to get done to just do nothing but sit. Yet, taking a few hours to recuperate from her episode might be the perfect thing to do, especially if it meant she could snuggle up against Bjørn on the couch.
She stepped into his cabin and froze. The inside proved a complete opposite of the outside. Organization reigned in the small, open space. A leather couch sat against four enormous windows that lined the front, looking out at the porch. A dark, stone hearth covered the walls behind a Blaze King wood stove, protecting the walls from the heat. He had perfectly piled a neat stack of firewood on an iron stand next to the stove.
On the opposite side of the room, a rustic kitchen spread along the back corner like an L. Two-by-one board shelves full of spices, coffee, sugar, and other miscellaneous cooking supplies hung above the propane stove. Cast-iron skillets in various sizes dangled from the log beam above the kitchen. One cupboard supported the sink and tiny countertop situated under a window. The frame-structured walls weren’t even sheetrocked, just pink insulation shoved between lumber and covered in plastic. So typical of Alaskan homes, the lack of finished walls and plywood flooring didn’t surprise her.
What had her gaping like a salmon on the river bank was how meticulous everything was. His desk, placed in the corner by the couch, didn’t have a loose paper in sight, just a notebook propped open with a pen in the binding crease. No dishes waited to be washed in the sink. No boxes of cereal hung out on the table. Did everything Bjørn do have to be in order? What would he do if she rearranged his spice shelf?
She pressed her lips together to keep her laugh in and peeked at Bjørn. He ran his hand across the back of his neck, his gaze darting around the room like he was embarrassed. She bit her lip to keep from saying anything.
“I know it’s a mess. Just haven’t had time to work on it. I’m hoping once winter comes, I can get the sheetrock up and finish the flooring.” Bjørn sounded dejected, and Sadie couldn’t hold her laugh back.
“Are you kidding me?” She stepped away from him and fingered the books lined on a bookshelf next to his desk. They were in alphabetical order by author. “Do you take hours cleaning and organizing?” She turned back to him and lifted her eyebrow in mirth. “Do you have a list to make sure you don’t forget anything?”
He shook his head and waved his finger at her. “Laugh all you want. I’ve always liked things in their place.” He shrugged. “The military kind of multiplied that trait to borderline obsessive heights. Pick out a movie, make yourself comfortable, and I’ll warm up some leftovers.”
She wandered to the shelf of movies and chuckled at the selection. He had everything from Disney movies to action to even a few romances. What should she pick? If she picked a romance, would he think she was hinting too hard? She had little desire to watch a cartoon, and after her terror-filled adrenaline spike earlier, action held no interest either. She pulled out ThePrincess Bride, deciding it was enough of a mix of everything that hopefully it would do.
“How about a classic?” She held up the movie.
“As you wish.” His cheeky smile made her stomach flutter.
After getting the movie cued up on the TV, she turned to the small kitchen. “Need any help?”
“Nope.” He pulled a container out of the microwave, filling the room with the savory smell of Italian. “Just relax.”
She rolled her eyes and sat on the couch. She wasn’t one for lounging around, but getting to watch Bjørn prepare their lunch might just make her okay with being lazy. He moved around the small kitchen with an efficiency that told how comfortable he was there. So, he flew choppers and could cook? A man in the kitchen had never been more attractive to her.
Reggie and Rowdy barreled down the stairs she assumed lead to the bedrooms. Their tongues hung out the side of their mouths, and their tails wagged. That Bjørn didn’t care the dogs were running wild through his house made her draw to him even stronger. She thought of begging to God to make it work out between them but knew it’d be a wasted prayer. If she couldn’t get past her scars, what made her think Bjørn would?
Bjørn sauntered to the couch, carrying two bowls of spaghetti. He handed her one with a flourish, and she noticed he gave her the bowl with more meatballs. She swallowed, unsure if she’d be able to eat with her stomach in a riot of chaotic butterflies.
“This looks amazing.” She smiled as he sat down next to her. “Thanks.”
“It’s my ma’s recipe.” He shrugged and dug his fork into his bowl. “Mine isn’t as good as hers, but it’ll pass.”
She shook her head as she stabbed at her food. He didn’t just cook. He did it from scratch. Her culinary capabilities comprised of opening boxes and following directions. Most of the time, she didn’t even do that, instead relying on Denali or the local restaurants to feed her.
Rowdy rushed up to her side and nosed her hands. The bowl of oozy sauce flipped from her grip before she could react and landed with a splat on her sweatshirt. It slid down the front of her, and she caught it before it could get all over the couch.
“Rowdy!” She gasped and pushed him away.
“I’ll grab paper towels.” Bjørn dashed to the kitchen, setting his bowl on the kitchen table as he passed.
Sadie took a deep breath and stood, leaning forward and letting the gloppy mess slide back into the bowl. Handing Bjørn the bowl as he gave her the paper towels, she cringed at the red sauce smeared down her front. She sighed. There went another shirt to the rag pile.
“I have some stain remover that’s amazing.” Bjørn grabbed the used paper towels and tossed them into the trash. “If we throw your sweatshirt in the washer now before the stain sets, you might be able to save it.”
She froze, her breath catching in her throat. If she took off her sweatshirt, he’d see her scars. Then this entire thing between them would be over before it barely got off the ground. She wasn’t ready for it to end, but he’d know something was up if she didn’t.