Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“Sure,” she says when she finally swallows the last of her breakfast. “I’ll go, but only because I need to pick up a few things. I’m generally not fit for public consumption until I’ve had at least two cups of coffee, and this is only my first.”
She picks up the mug in front of her and lifts it like she needs to prove her point. I chuckle and stride over to the pot. “We’ve got travel mugs. I’ll pour us some for the road. By the time we get to town, you’ll be ready.”
Something about the wariness that creeps into her eyes as I fill the travel mugs tells me her real worry has nothing to do with coffee, but I don’t bring it up. Yet. We’ll have plenty of time to talk on the drive and in town.
For now, I let her do whatever mental prep she needs, but Boone pulls me aside when she goes upstairs to put on her boots. Those gray eyes hold mine where we stand just inside the front door, tension etched into every line of his features.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?”
I shake my head. “Honestly? I don’t know, but we can’t keep her on top of the mountain for the rest of her life. Besides, she said there were a few things she needed to pick up. If she really didn’t want to go, she’d ask me to just get it for her.”
He tips his face toward the ceiling, jaw ticking as he lets out a long, measured exhale. “All right. She goes, but—”
“You don’t need to tell me to look out for her, big guy.” I clap him on the shoulder and reach for the door. “You already know I will.”
He nods, but his jaw clenches, and when he looks at me again, I can tell it isn’t easy for him to let her go. The guy trusts me with his life, but he’s struggling to trust me alone with hers.
A smirk pulls at my mouth. “You’re really in deep, aren’t you?”
He scoffs. “Like you’re not.”
I shrug. “I’ve never denied it. We’ll be back before you know it. It’s just a supply run.”
Boone rolls his eyes, then gives me a curt nod and stalks back up the stairs, passing Roxie and reaching out to take her hand. She stops, letting him pull her in and burrow into his chest for a beat as he murmurs something I can’t catch.
Then he lets her go, and she smiles up at him like he hung the moon. A quiet moment passes between them before she moves again, not stopping on her way out the door.
I follow her to my truck, help her in, then take my place behind the steering wheel.
We’re halfway down the mountain by the time she finally speaks. “Do you, uh, do you know if the chimney at the cabin is fixed yet?”
A trickle of fear runs through me. There aren’t many things I’m actually afraid of, but losing the people I care about terrifies me, and sending her back to that cabin feels like losing her.
“The work’s been done for a while. Boone didn’t tell you?”
“No.”
“Would you have wanted him to?”
She pauses only a beat. “No, but you don’t mind if I stay with you?”
“No.” I feel her eyes boring into the side of my face while I keep my gaze fixed on the winding road ahead. “Workwise, it’s better to have you at the house, but it’s not just that. We like having you there.”
“Sex on tap?” she jokes, but it falls flat, and she groans. “Sorry. I think I’m just nervous. I haven’t seen other people in over a month. It’s weird how fast being a hermit starts feeling normal.”
I chuckle. “You’re telling me. When we first decide to build on that property, I thought the silence was going to drive us mad, but once the house was built and we stocked up on supplies, before we knew it, it’d been three weeks since we’d gone into town.”
She smiles at me, but I can see the tension winding through her. Her spine straightens, her eyes glued to the window.
By the time we pull into the general store lot, her knuckles are white, her hands twisted tight in her lap. The place is busy, locals stocking up before the next cold snap, just like we are. We’ve already had some big temperature swings, and soon we’ll have a few inches of snow on the ground instead of just a dusting.
The surge of activity is nothing out of the ordinary this time of year, but I see her posture change the second we step inside. Her shoulders tense, her breathing goes shallow, and her eyes scan the aisles like she’s cataloging exits.
Fear-born reflexes. I know them well. I’d worn them myself once.