Page 18 of His Wood Her Fire

This wouldn’t do.I knew tomorrow I would have to be an adult and apologize to Bo over my insane emotions.

I made myself a hot toddy and put on one of the many old Christmas movies I’d packed and brought with me.I made myself an enormous bowl of popcorn, refilled my toddy, and sat on the sofa in a cocoon of blankets and pillows.

Die Hardwas just the thing to take my mind off Bo.

Nothing like a little gun fighting with terrorists and a Christmas backdrop to make a gal feel better about her latest in a lifetime of lousy decisions when it came to men.

“Yippee-kai-yay,” I muttered and settled in.

Chapter Eight-Gloria

The next morning I went for a walk, but I stuck close to the cabin.It was frigid outside, but I felt the need to stretch my legs.

And no, I did not stalk my grumpy ass neighbor while he went about his routine of wood chopping and making a spectacle of himself.

Okay, that’s a lie.

I did peek.

But I didn’t ogle him.

Not much, anyway.

Now that I knew what he looked and felt like underneath all that flannel and denim, it was damn near impossible not to drool when I saw him bent over that ever-growing pile of wood he seemed to always be working on.

The truth was, I might have overacted the day before.Bo didn’t exactly kick me out of his home, but I felt a shift in him after we did the horizontal tango, and he shot out of bed and went to the bathroom.

It hurt.

Whatever had caused him to step back so abruptly, that was his issue.Not mine.We’d both enjoyed what we’d done together, and yes, his rejection had hurt me.But I had only myself to blame.

Bo made no promises.He didn’t have to.I was more than willing to spread my legs for the big, sexy mountain man.

It wasn’t his fault I’d built what we shared up in my head.

And it definitely was not his fault I might be overly hormonal due to my impending menopause, which might not be sexy, but it was a very real possibility.

Yes, I was getting older.No, I did not want to be alone forever.But that was my baggage.Not Bo’s.

I’d acted like a brat yesterday, and now I felt embarrassed.After all, he did rescue me from my blunder with the fireplace and Frou-Frou, too.

I was woman enough to know when something was my fault, and I needed to make it right.

Like my Nana used to say, the best way to apologize was with something sweet.

So, as I walked back to the cabin, I devised a plan.I was going to deliver my apology in the form of my Nana’s never fail fudge recipe.

I might be too jaded to take that leap of faith necessary where love was concerned, but I had manners and Bo was very honest about not wanting me here from the start.

Exhaling, I took in the beautiful landscape and wondered about the history of Wawayanda Mountain and how Bo came to purchase these two cabins.

The winding road that led up here, all the way from the highway was rough in spots and mostly unpaved.

But it was a little section of paradise.Utterly masculine in its design and functionality, but when I closed my eyes, I could just imagine what a few flowering bushes and a little herb garden around the back would do.

While on my hike, I used a pair of binoculars I’d found in the kitchen drawer and spied a natural stone staircase carved into the land.Upon further inspection, I discovered it led to a wooden dock on the enormous lake that sat at the bottom of the mountain.

There was a shed too, and I imagined it held fishing gear and maybe even a kayak or two.

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