Page 8 of Garrett

“We should get some salt down on this path,” I manage, trying to focus on anything except how soft her skin would feel under my hands.

“Add it to the list.” A smile plays at the corners of her mouth. “Along with the windows you want to replace and the walls you want to tear down.”

“I don’t want to tear everything down.”

“No?” She turns to face me fully, and suddenly we’re too close again. “What do you want, Garrett?”

You. The answer burns in my throat. On this path, in your cabin, in my bed. Against every wall we’re arguing about. I want to know if you taste as sweet as you smell, if you’d moan my name when I—

“We should get you inside.” My voice comes out rough. “Storm’s getting worse.”

Something like disappointment flickers across her face, but she nods and turns back to the path. I watch the sway of her hips as she climbs the cabin steps, imagining following her inside, pressing her against that door, sliding my hands under her sweater...

“Thanks for the escort.” She turns at her door, cheeks flushed from the wind. Or maybe something else. “Though I’m still not letting you tear down that wall.”

“We’ll see.” I take a step closer, drawn into her orbit like gravity. “You might change your mind.”

“I’m pretty stubborn.”

“I’ve noticed.”

Another step. The porch creaks under my boot. She tilts her face up, and I can see her pulse flutter at her throat. Want to trace it with my tongue.

“Garrett...” My name is barely a whisper on her lips.

The distance between us vanishes. My hand finds her waist, pulling her closer. Her breath catches. I can feel the heat of her body through her coat, smell her citrus shampoo mixed with snow and pine.

Just one taste...

Thunder cracks overhead like a warning shot. I jerk back, reality crashing in. This is exactly what I can’t do. Can’t let her get close. Can’t risk—

“I should go.” I step back, putting safe distance between us.

Her voice is steady, but I can see the rapid rise and fall of her chest. “See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” I shove my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching for her again. “Tomorrow.”

I force myself to turn away, to crunch back through the deepening snow. Don’t look back. Don’t think about how her body felt against mine. Don’t imagine following her inside, laying her down, showing her exactly what she does to me...

The wind howls across the ridge, carrying the scent of snow and promise. Or maybe warning. Because Rachel Winston is quickly becoming as dangerous as any storm.

Chapter 5

Rachel

Sleep eludes me as I stare at my bedroom ceiling, replaying the almost-kiss on my porch. The way Garrett’s hand felt on my waist, how his eyes darkened when he looked at me. The scent of sawdust and pine that clings to him, mixing with something distinctly male.

A crack like a gunshot jerks me awake - I must have finally drifted off. The room plunges into darkness as another tremendous crash shakes the cabin. My heart pounds as I fumble for my phone. 1:47 AM.

“No, no, no,” I mutter, flipping switches. Nothing. The temperature is already dropping without the electric heat. The fireplace that’s still on my repair list mocks me from across the room.

A gust of wind rattles the windows and I shiver, weighing my options. Garrett’s cabin is the only one with a working fireplace - he’d insisted on inspecting and repairing it first thing to have at least one working.

I grab my coat and boots, thankful I’d put them by the bed as he suggested. Snatching a flashlight from the nightstand, I hurry out into the storm.

The beam barely penetrates the swirling snow. Wind whips my hair as I try to find the path. Another crash of falling timber somewhere in the darkness makes me jump.

“Rachel!” His voice carries through the storm. “Rachel, where are you?”

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