Page 7 of Billionaire Unexplained: Kaleb

He shot me a slow, sexy smile that did more to heat my entire body than the blankets I was wrapped in. “Nope,” he drawled. “I want to talk about that experience about as much as you want to talk about what brought you here to Montana.”

Okay. That was fair, although I really wanted to know more about that experience and why it seemed to bother him so much.

God, this man was a gorgeous enigma that I was dying to delve into, but staying strangers was a whole lot wiser.

“Are you feeling better?” he questioned. “Your color is back. You were as white as a sheet when you came through that window. Now you just look windburned.”

I nodded after I drained the last of my hot chocolate. “I’m good. I’ve lived in Southern California for so long that I think I forgot what it feels like when you start to get feeling back into your body after being so damn cold. Especially my feet.”

“You were wearing sneakers for fuck’s sake,” he rumbled unhappily.

I didn’t take offense because I was getting used to his less than friendly tone.

I was beginning to realize that he probably always sounded disgruntled and cynical.

“It was warm when I got into Montana,” I explained. “This storm seemed to come out of nowhere as I was driving here.”

“You didn’t check the weather? You’re a native Montanan.”

“I didn’t,” I admitted. “I was distracted.”

He smirked ruefully. “Okay, then I’m going to admit that I didn’t check the weather before I came here, either, for the same reason. Because we were both careless, I think we’re stuck here together for a while.”

“And are you a native?” I questioned in a teasing voice.

“Yep,” he replied.

I really loved the way he could admit to being human and making mistakes. It was something I didn’t see often in my world.

“I take it you don’t live here in this area all the time,” I commented, not sure how much I could say without stepping into territory that was too personal.

He shook his head. “I don’t. This was a place my parents came to when they wanted to get away before my father died. My dad hunted here, and my mother loved the area and the scenery. I actually haven’t been here in a long time. I wasn’t planning on staying long. I live in a small town called Crystal Fork. It’s near Billings.”

“Too painful?” I asked sadly.

He didn’t deny it. “Yeah. How did you know?”

I swallowed hard and willed the tears not to flow. “Let’s just say I know something about losing the people you love. I’m sorry about your dad.”

He acknowledged my words of sympathy with a quick nod. “It’s been three years now. I guess I felt like it was time to come back here.”

He hadn’t said much, but it was the first really personal information he’d shared.

“It’s a beautiful cabin,” I told him.

The place was small, but obviously well loved. Maybe it was prime hunting land, but it didn’t look like a typical hunting cabin. Beautiful landscapes covered the walls, and the furniture looked like it was chosen because it was attractive and comfortable. We were sitting in front of the big, stone fireplace in an open living room. Beyond, I could see a nice kitchen with what appeared to be all the modern conveniences. Across the room, there was a door, which probably went to the bedroom I’d literally dropped into a while ago.

Okay, I hadn’t seen much of the bedroom before I’d passed out, but the entire place definitely had a woman’s touch.

I reached out my hand and ran it across the beautiful coffee table behind us. It looked like it was handcrafted. “Did your father make this?” I asked softly. “It’s a work of art.”

“I made that years ago from reclaimed barn wood,” he told me. “Dad did the bookshelves and the furniture in the bedroom. There’s a workshop out in the heated garage. Working with wood was something we both enjoyed doing.”

I wanted to ask if he made furniture for a living. He certainly had the talent to make it a profession. But asking about careers would probably be crossing the line.

Since neither one of us really wanted to talk about why we were here, I felt like we had an unspoken agreement not to ask super personal questions.

“It’s amazing workmanship,” I observed as I looked at the bookshelves against the wall.

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