Page 18 of Savage Secrets

“I figured I can hang it for you. By the kitchen door.”

“That would be so kind of you. Thank you. It sounds like a good job for tomorrow—let’s finish our coffee and…talk.”

Now why did she stumble over the sentence? As if she had other ideas about how they could spend the evening.

A blush warmed her cheeks, and she quickly sat down and buried her nose in her mug. He did the same, and they spent an awkward moment not speaking, with only the sound of the crackling fire.

“Tomorrow I’ll make a run to the hardware store and see about the cost of lumber and shingles to repair the roof.”

“Good idea.”

“I hear we might have heavy frost overnight.”

Her brows shot up at that news, and a deep hollow carved into her stomach. Her father always loved the first snow the best. Said it was the cleanest, the crispest.

“So soon?” She drew a sip of coffee into her mouth to cover her emotions.

Zach nodded. “It’s about that time of year. I figure snow isn’t far off—it was cold today.”

She eyed him. “Oh my god. I’ve kept you so busy. You must have more belongings to move in. I’m more than willing to help you.”

A line formed between his dark brows. “Everything I own is already in the bunkhouse, Opal.”

“Oh.”

“I only have my duffel bag.”

She shook her head to dislodge the confusion. “That’s all you need? Surely you have other things at the Gracey.”

His dark eyes softened as he held her gaze. “I have all I need.”

* * * * *

Pausing at the door, Zach slung his jacket over his shoulder. “Thanks again for the coffee.”

As usual, Opal looked beautiful. Tired from her busy day, and drawn from grief, but beautiful. When they drank coffeetogether on the porch, the wind teased the tendrils of her hair, making her appear more mussed than now, and typically the cold made her cheeks pink.

She edged closer to him. “No problem, Zach. Oh. I should give you back these keys. You’ll find what locks they fit before I ever do.”

She held out a palm, the bundle of keys dark against her pale skin. He’d noticed she was naturally pale, but after the worries that fell on her recently, she’d grown even paler. Tonight she looked even more delicate.

He scrubbed his fingers on his jeans, forcing himself not to reach out and trace the curve of her cheek or stroke a fingertip over the bruise of fatigue under her eye.

He closed his hand around the keys and slipped them into his pocket. If one key represented her trust in him, what did twenty mean?

“Thank you.” His voice was rougher than normal.

She stood inches away, searching his eyes. “When you say that, it sounds like you’re thanking me for more than a bunch of old keys.”

Ducking his head in a nod, he battled the emotions swirling through his chest like he stood on the edge of something new, something dangerous—but in the best way possible.

When he swallowed, his throat made a clicking sound. “I don’t own anything to have a key to. No vehicles. I’ve been driving the ranch vehicles for years. This”—he weighed the keys in his palm—“shows me a sense of trust, Opal. For that, I’m grateful.”

Without warning, she set her hand over his, trapping the keys between them. A heavy heartbeat pulsed around them. He couldn’t tear his gaze away.

The alpha inside him that he’d shoved down, locked away in a safer place, reared up with a roar to haul her against his body and claim her mouth.

Her chest heaved. Her delicate tongue darted over her plump bottom lip. “Zach.”

---