Page 6 of Rescued By the Major

“First lesson. Don’t burn yourself.” That gruff statement makes me laugh and I feel the way he relaxes beside me. A little more like we were earlier.

Two people alone in the dark with only the flickering fire to see by. I sneak a glance at him and am fascinated by the sharp angles of his jaw. The scruff of stubble on that jaw that I felt last night as he rubbed his chin against my shoulder when he kissed my neck.

“Exactly why I need someone to teach me. Because there’s no guarantee I won’t do exactly that if left unsupervised.” I toss the comment out without thinking, but it makes him look at me.

“I don't believe that. You’re a smart woman, Eva. You figure things out fast.”

“Clearly. That's why you had to come find me.”

That assessing look is back, but he looks at me fully now, and I recognize the warm concern marking his face. “No one predicted that storm was going to get so bad. Not until it was too late to do anything about it. That’s how things work in the mountains. You go about your life as best you can and find a way to survive when it all goes to hell.”

“Not just in the mountains,” I say in an unguarded moment, and I see the questions in his eyes. I shake my head, stopping him from asking. “Let’s just say I’ve made plenty of baddecisions before driving up here. I’m just lucky it didn’t end with me freezing to death.”

“Everyone makes a bad decision at some point, Gracie.”

The nickname makes my stomach go all warm and flutter at the way it sounds. Soft and caring. Strange coming from a man who’s so big and rough in his own way. Which reminds me of the callouses I felt on his fingers when he was touching me, and heat slices through my core, want settling firmly into place again.

“I’ll teach you about fire in a little bit,” he says, his voice cutting into my thoughts as he stacks the wood in tight formation beside the hearth. “But first, you need to eat something.”

He stands and looks down at me, then offers his hand. It’s firm and solid when my fingers slip into it, and he pulls me up with little effort.

“Did you cook for me?” I ask as he leads the way to the small table tucked into the kitchen space. There are two plates set out, silverware and cups waiting for us as he nods toward one of the seats and slides it out for me to sit down.

I watch him move, every muscle flexing beneath the shirt he’s wearing now, and it's the body of a man who works hard each day. He’s earned the physique and I’m not complaining. Not when I’m the beneficiary of such a beautiful show.

“Nothing fancy,” he says from over at the stove, where he takes the lid off a pan.

More savory scents fill the air, and my mouth waters as my stomach starts to growl. I'm hungrier than I can ever remember and when he sets down a plate piled with scrambled eggs and bacon, I want to dive in. He serves me a healthy portion and stops with a raised eyebrow when I wave it away.

“I shouldn’t eat that much.”

“You burned a lot of calories, Eva. You need to eat to keep your strength up in this environment.”

My automatic defense slips out. “I could stand to burn a lot of calories.” It’s a comment I’ve heard so often that it's become ingrained in my mind.

His eyes narrow at that statement and he puts another spoonful of eggs on my plate, like he’s daring me to argue with him. “Eat what you want while you're here. There’s no one to judge either one of us.”

We settle into the two chairs at the small table, our knees brushing against each other. My stomach growls and I can’t miss the satisfied smirk on his lips as I take a bite of the food he made for us. I’m tempted to groan it tastes so good.

“That look on your face right now tells me I did a decent job.”

I shake my head, wanting to laugh at how far off the mark he is. “Not decent.Delicious. I could eat this every day and never complain.”

“Me too,” he says, ducking his head with a pleased grin. “Breakfast is my favorite. When I’m just cooking for myself, I don’t even have to think about it. It’s simple and tastes good.”

“It’s like the perfect food. Hits all the right spots. Next time, it’s my turn though. I’ll make you French toast.”

He leans back in his chair as he takes a drink of his coffee and I soak in the sight of him sitting there, slivers of steam rising up around his face, the silvery light from the small kitchen window washing over him. He’s masculine perfection, and I want to trace every inch of that chiseled jaw to memorize it.

His eyes lock with mine and we both freeze, like neither of us is able to even draw a breath as we watch each other. There’s the crack of a shot from outside and he rears back, jumping out of his seat, his hand flying to the small of his back, as he instantly turns to look out the corner of the window. It’s a tactical position, his body protected by the bulky wooden walls,and I know he’s searching for any threat that might be prowling around our shelter.

When his shoulders drop down, I let out the breath I was holding.

“Just a branch, breaking from the weight of the snow.” As he turns to face me again, the light catches on the side of his face, the unmistakable shiny skin of scars glistening in the unforgiving glare.

“Anders,” I start, but before I can finish, he turns his back to me, his shoulders going tight again.

It’s a defense I recognize. Hiding what he doesn’t want me to see. What he thinks I’ll be disgusted by.

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