Page 4 of Glacial Mountain Man
"Terrifying risk." She popped the cracker in her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. "But worth it. I love matching people with the perfect book. There's something magical about that moment when someone finds exactly what they didn't know they were looking for."
The way she talked about her work, the passion in her voice—it did something to me. Made me want to hear more, to understand what made her eyes light up like that.
"Sounds like you're good at taking care of people," I said.
A blush crept up her neck. "I suppose I am."
We ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the only sounds the clink of spoons against bowls and the wind howling outside. I found myself watching the way she moved—economical, graceful. Everything about her seemed deliberate.
"This really is perfect," she said finally, setting down her spoon and looking around the cabin. "Do you stay here often? It's really nice."
"When I'm in town."
I kept my answer short. The cabin was mine, bought with the first real money I'd made after getting out of the Navy, but I didn't need to share my life story with a stranger. Even a beautiful one who made my chest tight every time she smiled.
"So you'll be here through the weekend?" she asked, her fork pausing midway to her mouth.
The question was innocent enough, but something in her tone made me look up. Her eyes held a vulnerability that caught me off guard.
"Yeah."
"With your family?"
There it was. The assumption everyone made. "Don't have family."
Her fork paused midway to her mouth. "Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't know.”
"Nothing to be sorry about." I stood and grabbed my empty bowl, needing to move. "Picked up a turkey yesterday. Was going to have a quiet day."
She was silent for a moment, watching me rinse dishes in the sink. When she spoke, her voice was soft. "That sounds lonely."
"Sounds peaceful."
"Maybe both?"
I turned to look at her. Those blue eyes held too much understanding, like she could see right through the walls I'dspent years erecting. It made me want to step closer and back away at the same time.
"I don't want to impose," she said suddenly, standing and carrying her bowl to the sink. She moved close—too close—and I caught another whiff of that floral scent that was driving me crazy. "Maybe I should try to make it to a hotel or?—”
"In this weather?" I turned to face her, and suddenly we were standing inches apart. I could see the gold flecks in her blue eyes, the way her pulse fluttered at the base of her throat. "You'd end up in a ditch. Or worse."
"But staying here, in your space?—”
"What choice do you have?" The words came out rougher than I intended, and her lips parted slightly. "You think I'm going to let you drive off into a blizzard? Risk your life because you're worried about taking up space?"
"I just don't want to be a burden."
"You're not." The honesty in my voice surprised us both. "Trust me, Candace. You're not a burden."
Something shifted in the air between us. Her eyes searched mine, and I saw the exact moment awareness flared between us. Her breath caught, and mine did too.
"I should show you where you'll sleep," I said, my voice hoarse.
She nodded, probably not trusting herself to speak, and followed me to the small spare room off the main living area. Clean sheets, a quilt my neighbor had made years ago, and a view of the woods that would be beautiful once the storm passed.
"This is perfect." She turned to face me in the doorway, and the space between us felt charged with electricity. "Thank you. For everything. I know this isn't how you planned to spend your evening."
"Plans change." The words came out rougher than I intended.
