Page 342 of Steamy Ever After

“No trouble at all. You're in Peace Springs, child. People here take care of each other.” Bert sweeps me into his home, while Drake remains outside.

I twist around. "Isn't he coming?"

Bert pulls the door shut. "Drake’s going to check on the llamas, but don't worry, that brooding bastard will be back to join you by the fire in no time."

Why does the thought of sitting next to Drake by the fire have my stomach twisting in knots? Bert winks, as if he reads my mind.

He walks me through his kitchen, and unlike the man, the kitchen fits every country stereotype I can imagine. From the copper molds displayed over the cupboards, to the hen and rooster knickknacks tucked into every available corner, there’s even a wooden breadbox on the countertop. The kitchen could easily grace the cover of Country Living or Southern Comfort magazines.

Even his stove is one of those cast-iron antiques. Its jade-green metallic paint contrasts perfectly with the floral wallpaper and wooden butcher block countertops. The whole place would be terribly garish, except it all works perfectly together. It’s designed to make people feel welcome.

To make them feel at home.

It also has a decidedly feminine touch to it.

The living room continues the quaint feeling, but instead of the expected plaid sofa and rocking chair with crocheted throws, the living room is the epitome of understated elegance with dark-brown leather couches and mounted gun racks over the fireplace. Unlike the kitchen, it lacks any sign of a woman’s hand.

One glance at the roaring fire in the stone fireplace and I relax.

"Go ahead and make yourself comfortable. I'll heat up some stew and get you a drink. You a wine or whiskey girl?"

"Wine. I've never had whiskey." I don’t take the offered seat. Instead, I reach beneath my multi-layered shirts and feel the innermost layer. Ugh, slick with sweat. “Um, Bert, is there a place I can…”

He points down the hall. “Bathroom is the second door on the right. The guest bedroom is the first one on the left, just across from the study.”

“Thank you.”

While he disappears into the kitchen, I locate the bathroom. There’s no lock on the door, which makes me nervous. I take care of business and then stand in front of the mirror. A quick inspection of my ears eases my fears about frostbite.

That was too close. I thank my mysterious stranger yet again. No lingering damage will occur to my ears as a result of my rescue. My cheeks and the tip of my nose prick with sensation as circulation and heat slowly returns.

I peel out of all seven shirts. The two innermost layers are damp, but the ones in the middle are still dry. Maybe Bert has some hangers or a place where I can air out my damp clothing?

My sweats are a mess. The snow caked around my legs where it melted into the fabric. From there, it seeped into my jeans. I don’t remember seeing a washer or dryer in the small country kitchen, but maybe Bert won’t mind if I place my clothes by the fire. In the meantime, damp jeans it is, and I need to get out of this wet bra.

I unsnap the constricting band of fabric and hang it on the towel rack. My reflection stares back at me, rosy cheeks, pinker than the ruddy red from a few moments ago. I cup my cheeks and say a prayer of thanks. I barely missed losing the tip of my nose to frostbite. Yet another reason to thank Drake.

My hand presses against my belly as a smile escapes me.

Butterflies?

I can’t remember the last time I felt butterflies.

That never happened with Scott.

The warmth of Bert’s home seeps into my bones, and my shivering disappears. I toe off my wet sneakers and yank at my socks, tugging them off. Those need to dry, too. I wriggle my toes, inspecting them as well.

As I grab for one of the dry shirts, the door creaks open, making me jump. I hastily cover my chest with one of the shirts and glance down at a tabby cat rubbing up against my leg. It meows, demanding to be rubbed, which I obediently do.

I love cats, but Scott hates them. He says he has allergies, but it’s a lie. There was never any eye redness, swelling, or sniffling and sneezing. It was yet another thing I gave up for the man I once loved.

“You surprised me, little kitty.”

I thought I shut the door. Obviously not, because I appear to have a new friend. Deep purring vibrations fill the air as the tabby rubs against my legs.

“My, aren’t you a friendly kitty?” I drape the shirt over the edge of the sink and bend down to pet the cat.

A creaking of the wood floor in the hallway startles me. I glance up at the half-open door. My gaze collides with the coal-black darkness of Drake’s smoldering eyes. He takes in my naked chest and breasts, not ashamed in the least at seeing me half-naked. I squeak and grab for the shirt hanging off the sink, clutching it to my chest.

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