Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 29800 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 149(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29800 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 149(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
“Because I’m actively trying not to.”
A quiet laugh rumbles out of him, low and rough enough to send heat straight through my stomach despite everything happening around us.
The man should not sound like that while armed.
Another crunch outside wipes the thought away instantly.
This time I visibly tense.
Rhett notices immediately.
He notices everything.
Without a word, he walks back toward the bed.
Toward me.
“You scared?” he asks quietly.
“No.”
The lie leaves my mouth automatically.
His brow lifts slightly.
I exhale sharply. “Fine. Yes. Obviously yes.”
“Good.”
I blink at him. “Good?”
“Means you’re paying attention.”
“You are the least reassuring person I’ve ever met.”
“Still here though.”
I hate how much that answer affects me now.
Because he’s right.
I am still here.
Despite the storm.
Despite the fear.
Despite the fact that every instinct I’ve ever had says run before you get attached to something you can lose.
Rhett studies me for another long second before speaking again.
“Move over.”
My pulse stumbles. “What?”
“You’re shaking.”
“I’m not.”
“Nora.”
I look down.
My hands are trembling against the blankets.
Damn it.
Heat creeps up my neck immediately, embarrassment mixing unpleasantly with fear.
Rhett sets the rifle against the nightstand within arm’s reach before sitting carefully on the edge of the bed beside me. The mattress dips under his weight instantly.
Everything about him feels heavy.
Solid.
Safe.
Which is honestly becoming a problem.
“You don’t have to pretend with me,” he says quietly.
Something inside my chest tightens painfully at that.
Because I’ve spent years pretending.
Pretending threats don’t bother me.
Pretending harassment rolls off my back.
Pretending I’m tougher than fear because people respect competence more than vulnerability.
But tonight?
Tonight I’m exhausted.
Another sound scrapes outside the cabin.
This time I flinch toward him instead of away.
The realization hits both of us instantly.
Rhett goes very still.
So do I.
My face burns.
“I didn’t mean to—”
His hand closes around mine before I can finish.
Firm.
Warm.
Steady.
“It’s okay.”
The simplicity of it almost undoes me.
“You’re not supposed to be this calm,” I whisper.
“I’m not calm.”
I glance up sharply. “You seem calm.”
“That’s different.”
His thumb brushes once across my knuckles absentmindedly, and the tiny gesture sends warmth all the way up my arm.
Outside, footsteps move through the snow again.
But farther away this time.
Circling wider.
Watching.
“You think he’s trying to scare me,” I say quietly.
“He is.”
“It’s working.”
Rhett’s jaw tightens. “Yeah.”
I study him carefully in the firelight. “You’re angry.”
“Very.”
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Somehow that makes it more terrifying.
“You really would’ve broken that guy’s wrist earlier today,” I murmur.
“Yes.”
No hesitation.
God.
“And that doesn’t concern you?”
His gaze slides to mine slowly. “Should it?”
Probably.
Definitely.
Instead, heat blooms low in my stomach because apparently my survival instincts are broken.
“You know what your problem is?” I ask softly.
“What?”
“You say insane things like they’re completely normal.”
“They are normal.”
“To mountain men raised by wolves maybe.”
That finally gets a real smile out of him.
Small.
Crooked.
Dangerously attractive.
“You calling me feral?”
“I’m calling you one flannel shirt away from living entirely off deer meat and intimidation.”
“I already do that.”
I laugh before I can stop myself.
The sound surprises both of us.
Rhett’s expression shifts instantly at hearing it, something warmer moving beneath all that control.
“There it is again,” he says quietly.
“What?”
“That sound.”
The way he says it makes my stomach tighten harder than fear ever could.
Outside, the storm keeps raging, but somehow the cabin feels smaller now.
Closer.
Safer.
Rhett leans back against the headboard eventually, one arm resting loosely beside me while the rifle stays within easy reach on the nightstand.
“You should try to sleep,” he says.
I stare at him like he’s insane. “While someone’s outside?”
“I’m awake.”
The answer comes so simply.
So certainly.
Like that settles everything.
And the worst part?
It kind of does.
I hesitate for another second before finally shifting closer beneath the blankets. Slowly. Carefully.
Rhett’s body goes still again as I settle against his side, my head resting cautiously against his chest.
I fully expect him to tense.
Instead, his arm comes around me automatically.
Protective.
Possessive.
Instinctive.
The steady weight of it loosens something deep inside me I didn’t realize I was holding together so tightly.
“There you go,” he murmurs quietly.
His heartbeat stays slow and even beneath my cheek.
Outside, footsteps circle the cabin one last time before fading deeper into the storm.
But inside?
Inside I’m wrapped around a dangerous man with scars on his hands and violence in his bones, and somehow this is the safest I’ve felt in weeks.
Maybe ever.
My eyes drift shut slowly despite myself.
“You staying awake all night?” I murmur sleepily.
“Yeah.”
“That’s stupid.”
“Probably.”
I smile faintly against his chest.
Then his hand slides slowly through my hair once, careful and steady, and something inside me finally gives in.
Not fear.
Not panic.
Trust.
And that might be the most dangerous thing of all.
Chapter Nine
Rhett
I know the second she finds it.
The cabin goes too quiet.
Not normal quiet either. Not the comfortable kind that settles in after coffee and snowfall and too much time spent trapped together in close quarters.
This silence has teeth.
I look up from the woodpile beside the fireplace just as Nora storms out of the bedroom holding my field notebook in one hand.
Shit.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she snaps.
Yeah.
There it is.
I lean back against the couch slowly, watching her pace toward me in nothing but leggings and one of my thermal shirts, her hair still messy from sleep, anger brightening her face hard enough to make my pulse kick anyway.