Page 35 of Words of Love

A sigh of exasperation escaped him. “Bookkeeping.”

“Well, it’s not quite tax season yet, so I think you have time.”

He muttered something under his breath and shoved to his feet. “I’ll go outside with you for an hour. No longer.””

“Great. Maybe the fresh air will improve your mood.”

He waved her out of the kitchen so he could do the dishes. Brooke took a quick shower and dressed in jeans and snowpants. After Sam went into the bathroom to get ready, she tried very hard not to imagine what he looked like naked.

When he emerged, her heart did its usual bump up against her ribs. His faded jeans molded to his long legs. His T-shirt, washed so many times it had faded to light blue, clung to his muscular shoulders and chest as if it had been made just for him.

How the heck did a crossword-puzzle-doing bookstore owner get such a superhero body?

She’d slept with this man—literally. In the past two days, despite having minimal interactions with him since he’d moved to Bliss Cove, she’d pressed her body against his. She’d wrapped her arms around his neck.

She’d inhaled lungfuls of his delicious, wind-and-rain scent. She’d confessed her biggest failure to him with an innate knowledge that he wouldn’t judge her. She’d started to go beyond being intrigued by him to actually…liking him.

“Ready?” He pulled open the back door and stepped aside to wait for her.

Brooke retrieved her camera from her suitcase, and they stomped out into the snow.

“It’s like a whole other world.” She breathed in the crisp air, awed by the untouched beauty and complete silence. “I’ve never been a person who needs to be alone much, but a place like this makes me see the appeal of solitude.”

She started snapping pictures of the snow-covered trees, the smoke curling from the chimney, the mountains silhouetted against the gray sky.

She convinced Sam they could still have fun, and they spent an industrious hour packing snow and gathering sticks and rocks to craft a lopsided, grinning snowman. She scattered dry oatmeal for the birds, Sam cleared a path to the woodbin, and they scraped away the ice that had crusted around the windows.

By the time they went back into the cabin, Brooke was sweaty and pleasantly tired. As she closed the door, the wind gusted against the fire. The blanket fort swayed. After hanging her coat up, she tossed a log in the fireplace and prodded it with the poker until the bark caught flame.

“Instead of coffee, let’s have hot cocoa.” She straightened the blanket walls of the fort. “It goes great with animal crackers.”

Sam started toward the kitchen. Setting the poker down, she caught sight of several typewritten papers scattered on the floor. She bent to pick them up, and her gaze fell on the lines typed in the center of the first page.

She gasped.

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