Page 6 of Grumpy Alien Lumberjack
No.
Definitely not thinking about that.
Absolutely.
Not.
Chapter Three
Jeneva
She woke to the sound of something clattering in the other room.
Blinking against the dim light filtering through the window, she worked through a moment of disorientation before remembering where she was. Methic's cabin.
She had actually slept through the night—a miracle considering her usual battle with insomnia. Her back hurt around the stabilization implants that held her spine together, but her muscles didn't ache like they usually did in the morning. Curious, she stretched her legs as hard as she dared. No familiar burn in her thighs. No cramps twisting through her calves.
Another clatter, followed by what sounded distinctly like a curse.
Jeneva pushed herself upright, reaching for her walking stick before remembering she had lost it. She sat on the edge of the bed, legs dangling, and was about to slip down when she saw it.
The gleam of her metal crutch leaning against the wall.
"What?" She reached for it, her throat tightening. He had gone out last night and risked encountering more predators to get this for her. Who was this man?
Grabbing the crutch, she made her way to the doorway. The scent of warm fall spice greeted her as she swept the curtain aside and turned toward the noise. A small kitchen sat tucked in the back. Methic's naked back faced her as he bent over something on the rustic wood table, mixing aggressively.
She trailed her gaze over his muscled back and the long braid swaying with the motion, then to his trim waist and the rise of his backside clad in snug black pants. A prominent scar ran horizontally across his lower back, the healed flesh forming a thick, rough ridge. Now that she noticed it, she realized a handful of other keloids marred his back. Remnants of injuries he had endured and survived.
Gingerly touching the back of her neck, she grimaced as her fingers met the cool metal hardware that aligned her spine from neck to lower back. She was literally held together with metal and screws like some kind of cyborg. Looks like they both had scars.
"Good morning," she chirped softly, hoping not to startle him.
He turned sharply. For just a moment, something like surprise flickered across his features before the scowl returned. He turned back to his task.
She hobbled closer, leaning heavily on her stick. "What are you making?"
"Breakfast." He stirred the bowl more gently now.
Jeneva peered into the contents and fought to keep her expression neutral. The lumpy porridge was an unappetizing shade of gray, like wet cement mixed with gravel.
"What is it?" Maybe she didn't want to know.
"Practical food." He ladled a portion into a bowl and set it on the table. "Eat."
The contents steamed ominously as she poked it with a wooden spoon. The pleasant cinnamon scent of Methic's home gave her hope that maybe, just maybe, it would taste better than it looked. She took a tentative bite.
It tasted exactly like it looked—paste mixed with gravel.
She swallowed with effort, her eyes watering, and managed to smile. "It's very... filling."
His eyes narrowed. "You dislike it."
"That's not true..." She searched for words that wouldn't offend but came up empty.
"I do not have a synthesizer to make something more palatable for you." He took a bite of his own food without flinching. "But I am happy to prepare something if you tell me what you prefer."
"No need but thank you. This... practical food is just fine."
