Page 21 of His One True Wish

We walked into the kitchen, and I put a fresh kettle on the stove. The more I played nice, the more likely it was that Billie would change her mind about fighting me on my lease. The truth was, I had the money and the means to win, but I didn’t need the hassle. I wanted her to think happy thoughts about me and this cabin until I showed her the door. I’d help her unpack, bundle her up, and send her back down the mountain to Mom.

One night with this woman staying here, and I would send her home in the morning.

It was going to be so easy.

CHAPTER 8

BILLIE

Standing in the kitchen beside Axl, he towered over me. He prepped the tea kettle and turned on the gas stove.

“You want more chamomile? Or something with caffeine?” he asked, glancing back at me over his shoulder.

“Actually, caffeine would be great,” I said, taking a seat at the kitchen table. “Maybe Earl Grey? Irish Breakfast?”

“You got it,” he said, opening a drawer by the sink. I was used to that drawer being used for silverware. Now it was filled with boxed tins of tea. He popped open a can and pulled out a beautiful fabric bag full of tea leaves. These were not grocery store teas. These things looked fancy enough to throw at a wedding.

Staring at his black-and-red checkered back, I could not reconcile the fact that this burly, smart-ass hottie was also a tea drinker with a very tidy kitchen. He looked like all the rugged, handsome men in his fishing and flying magazines. Now the interest in planes made sense, and I assumed he fished, too. Smoke River was known for amazing fly fishing in the spring and summer. For a moment, I imagined him standing knee-deep in waders, shirt off, as he tossed his fly into the water.

He glanced back at me and smiled. Holy shit. I was staring. I coughed to break the awkward silence. “So are you going to caffeinate before we head out into the cold?”

He grabbed the kettle as it started to howl and poured hot water into two travel mugs. “No. If you recall, I drank a shitload of Red Bull. I’ve had enough caffeine to last me a while. It’s nasty stuff, but I do love that garbage. It’s one of my vices.”

The way he confessed, I wanted to ask him about his other vices, but I wasn’t going to go there.

“Milk?” He opened the refrigerator.

“Yes, a splash.”

“Soy, almond, oat, or regular?”

My jaw about hit the floor. “Regular,” I whispered. Who was this guy? With every passing moment, Axl revealed another of his confusing layers. Cocky, muscle-bound, arrogant, a pilot who thought his spatial skills made him Superman on the highway. He liked fancy tea, stocked a barista-level milk bar, and the ultimate non-sequitur, harbored a secret love for Red Bull.

“You okay?” he asked.

I must have looked like a deer in headlights. “Yeah, sorry. I got distracted. My mom didn’t let me drink a lot of soda growing up.”

He nodded. “Smart. I got into the habit of using coffee and energy drinks to stay awake when I was in the military. Not a great habit.”

I expected him to say more, but he didn’t. He measured and poured two shots of whiskey into each of our mugs and put the travel lid in place. He wiped down the counter. The kitchen was once again spotless.

Remembering the stacked pizza boxes and suspect-smelling sponges in my ex’s apartment, I had to admit I loved watching this guy clean.

“There you go,” Axl said, handing me my mug.

“Thanks.” I blew on the lid and held the drink with both hands. The heat felt so good and cozy. I took a sip and immediately felt the bloom of the whiskey going down my throat. It tasted delicious and felt even better. “Damn, that’s good.”

His eyes moved up and down my body. I knew he was assessing my “gear” or lack of it, but the way his gaze moved over my hips made my stomach feel all swirly. And was it my imagination, or did Axl’s gaze pause on my chest? I self-consciously crossed my arms. “I should go put on my parka.”

“Good,” he said, “because it’s cold outside.”

“I know it’s cold outside,” I said. “It’s snowing.”

He walked to the back door and returned holding a pair of his leather boots. He sat down at the kitchen table and laced them up. His hands were large and looked strong. He moved like a man who didn’t like to be rushed.

I figured this was my cue to get prepped for the great outdoors. I retrieved my duffle and pulled out my old purple puffy coat. I held it out and cringed. It was so bright it almost looked neon with a slightly lighter purple fringe around the hood.

It reminded me of Grimace fromMcDonald’sor that singing dinosaur, Barney. But function ruled over fashion, especially in the mountains. I swallowed my pride, held the sleeves of my sweatshirt, and stuffed my arms into the puffy sleeves of the coat.

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