“What about the others? Miller and Delane?”
She shakes her head. “Not coming. It sounds like a bad storm hit not too long after I got on the road.” She looks around the small kitchen, for what, I’m not sure. “When did you get here?”
“Bout an hour before you,” I say. “Built a fire, made some coffee, then heard you screechin’ down the drive.”
She winces. “I honestly had no idea I needed chains.”
“I can’t believe Beau didn’t tell you.” That kind of irks me that he’d send a friend out here without all the proper knowledge.
She winces again. “Okay, well, hementionedI should have them. I guess I just didn’t think I’dneedthem need them. You know?”
I blink because when someone tells me to bring something important that I might need, I take their word for it. “No, Idon’tknow.”
She rolls her eyes, and my dick likes that more than he should. Thank god we got this old table keeping our lower halves private ‘cause I’m pretty sure with the way she’s gettin’ me bricked up, dirty denim ain’t hidin’ shit.
“Anyway. They can’t get out here until the storm lets up, so it’s likely to be just us until tomorrow.” She drinks more of the coffee, and I watch her closely, trying to judge if she’s hiding a reaction and lying about the coffee. It ain’t that I think Goldie’s a liar, but I get this energy off her that she feels like she’s gotta pretend.
But I think shedoeslike the coffee. So I drink mine because I’m not gonna be the bitch that can’t stomach what this tiny thing can.
“Good thing I brought a cooler of food,” I tell her because I feel like I’ve been staring at her lips too long.
“Oh yeah,” she says, bringing her hand to her mouth in realization. “I forgot they were bringing the supplies. Well, the important ones.” She nods to where her bag sits in the other part of the cabin. “I brought wine.” She shivers a little as she brings the coffee cup to her lips again. I gotta look away because watching her drink is fuckin’ creepy, and I don’t even know why I’m so hooked. Never had a problem not staring at a woman before.
I’m on my feet and digging around in my bag in my room, then back at the small table a moment later. “Stand up,” I command her, and I’m surprised that she does. Every time we share an interaction that doesn’t end in bickering, it feels like a win.
“Arms up,” I say, and my dick gets hard when she does it. Then I slide my sweatshirt over her, feeding each arm through carefully. Dressing her makes my chest all fuckin’ warm and shit, and I don’t know why. I have no urge to take care of anyone. I had that opportunity once and failed. Failed fuckin’ miserably.
But it feels good to warm her up. And I drop to the chair when I see her in my sweatshirt, with my name embroidered across her chest. She’s swimming in it since I’m three times her size. But it makes my stomach go all woozy, and my brain gets warm and tingly. She sits down, and my cock gets fat and happy at the sight of her fingers curling around the cuffs. “Thanks,” she offers quietly. “Stupidly, I only broughtthatcoat.”
“And no extra socks,” I remind her, gazing down to see my gray socks on her feet.
“And no extra socks,” she repeats with a smile.
“I’m gonna grab the cooler out of my truck.” I tell her, then I do it because now I’ve got this weird sensation running all through me like I don’t want to leave her alone in this cabin for too long. When I get back inside, I’m soaked. I lower the small cooler to the kitchen floor and step back in front of the open fireplace. I’ve peeled off my flannel and am stripping off my soaked shirt when I feel it.
Her gaze on me.
I turn and find I’m right, those gorgeous, wide green eyes of hers are glued to the side of me, and I don’t know if she’s checking me out or the ink, or maybe both, but I do know that having her look at me while she’s biting her lip like that makes me feel…good. Like,I should probably take a seat very soon or it’s going to get uncomfortabletype of good.
Her hair is starting to dry out, making it kind of fuzzy and wavy. It’s fuckin’ hot. She draws the coffee close to her mouth and smirks at me and asks, "Are you telling me you gave me grief about not having extra socks, and you only brought one set of clothes?”
I shake my head as I retie my bun, getting all the wet strands off my forehead and face. “Na. I just want my shit to dry out.”
“Oh,” she says, a bit deflated. “So I’m the only idiot who doesn't know how to pack a bag for the mountains.”
I stride down the hall and peel the cold denim from my body, replacing it with warm gray sweats. After I pull on a henley, I make my way back out. “Never called ya an idiot,” I tell her as I pop the top on my cooler and dig out some sausages. Using a couple of pans I find beneath the stove; I get the burners going and spread my ingredients out over the counter. Goldie watches me.
“You cook a lot?”
I grunt but this time follow it with a “yep.”
She nods. I lift the carafe of coffee. “More?”
She smiles. I refill her mug and find myself liking how the tip of her nose is still just a little pink. “You warmin’ up yet?” I ask, returning to the stove. I dig a knife out of the drawer and run it down the length of my sausages, adding them to a pan with some oil. They sizzle and pop, and the immediate smell of home-cooked food fills the air.
“Smells good,” Goldie says, still sipping her coffee.
“I was thinkin’ the same thing.”