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)
Heat crawls instantly up my neck.
Sweetheart.
God.
I drop my bag beside the couch and shrug off my coat. “You call all your kidnapped women sweetheart?”
“You’re not kidnapped.”
“You literally told me I wasn’t allowed to leave.”
“You’re allowed.” He pulls two mugs down from a shelf. “You’d just be stupid.”
I stare at him.
He pours coffee calmly like he didn’t just say that.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“You’re still here.”
That shuts me up for a second because annoyingly, he keeps doing that. Keeps saying things that hit harder than they should.
I move toward the fire instead, rubbing my cold hands together while the heat rolls over my skin.
Behind me, cabinets open and close quietly.
Then Rhett says, “Two sugars. Little cream.”
I turn slowly.
He holds out a mug toward me.
Exactly how I drink coffee.
My brows pull together. “How do you know that?”
“That’s how most people drink their coffee, unless you like it black.”
“I’m not a savage.”
“I am.” He pours his own mug, his eyes intent on me the entire time.
That should not affect me the way it does.
I take the mug carefully, our fingers brushing briefly, and the contact sparks harder than it should. His gaze drops to my mouth for half a second before lifting again.
Dangerous.
Very dangerous.
“You stare a lot,” I murmur.
“You notice a lot.”
“That wasn’t an answer.”
His eyes hold mine over the rim of his coffee mug. “Didn’t say it was.”
The tension settles thick between us instantly.
Sharp.
Aware.
I look away first and hate myself a little for it.
The storm rattles the windows hard enough to shake the cabin slightly.
Rhett’s attention shifts immediately.
His entire body stills.
Listening.
Watching.
I notice the rifle leaning beside the front door then. Loaded. Ready.
“You expecting trouble?” I ask quietly.
“Always.”
That answer shouldn’t feel real.
But it does.
He crosses toward the windows next, checking each lock methodically before pulling the curtains tighter closed.
“You do this every night?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
“Because of me?”
“Because I live on a mountain.”
Something tells me that’s only half true.
I watch him move around the cabin for another minute, checking the back door, scanning outside through a narrow gap in the curtains, every movement controlled and practiced.
Military.
Protective.
Paranoid.
And somehow all three make him hotter.
Which honestly feels like a personal attack.
“You can relax, you know,” I say finally.
His gaze cuts toward me immediately. “Can I?”
“You’re acting like somebody’s about to break in.”
“They already did once tonight.”
Fair point.
I hate that he keeps making those.
The fire cracks softly between us while snow pounds harder outside.
“You really think he followed me here?” I ask.
Rhett leans one shoulder against the wall near the door, arms folding across his chest. “Yeah.”
No hesitation.
No false reassurance.
Just truth.
My stomach tightens.
“You don’t sugarcoat things much.”
“No point.”
“And the intense staring thing? Is that part of your ranger training?”
His gaze drags slowly over me again, deliberate enough that my pulse stutters.
“No,” he says quietly. “That part’s just you.”
Heat floods straight through me.
God.
I tighten my grip on the mug. “You flirt like a threat.”
“Maybe it is.”
The room suddenly feels much smaller.
Warmer.
His eyes stay locked on mine while the firelight flickers across the sharp angles of his face, catching the scar near his jaw I hadn’t noticed earlier.
I shouldn’t want to move closer.
I do anyway.
Just slightly.
Enough to notice.
Enough that his eyes darken immediately.
“You do realize you’re impossible to intimidate properly?” he asks.
“I’m from Seattle.”
“That explains the attitude.”
I laugh despite myself.
Actual laughter.
The sound surprises both of us.
Rhett studies me for a second longer than necessary before pushing away from the wall.
“Take your boots off.”
“There it is again.”
“What?”
“The ordering.”
“You’re tracking snow through my cabin.”
I glance down.
Okay, fair.
I kick my boots off near the fire while he disappears briefly down the hallway. When he returns, he tosses something toward me.
Thick wool socks.
Dry.
Warm from the fire.
“You keep emergency women’s socks around?” I ask suspiciously.
“No.” He sits on the couch finally. “Those are mine.”
I stare at the massive socks in my hand.
Then at him.
“You’re giving me your socks.”
“You gonna cry about it?”
“You’re weirdly domestic for a man who looks like he fights bears recreationally.”
“Only fought one.”
My eyes widen.
A grin flashes briefly across his face.
“Relax, city girl.”
I point accusingly. “You enjoyed that.”
“Little bit.”
I slide the socks on anyway, and the warmth immediately sinks into my freezing skin.
Rhett watches me the entire time.
Not subtle.
Not apologetic.
Just openly watching.
“You really notice everything, don’t you?” I murmur before I can stop myself.
Something shifts in his expression then.
Sharper.
More focused.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I do.”
And somehow that answer feels a lot more dangerous than the storm outside.
Chapter Six
Rhett
By the next morning, the storm finally eases enough that I can see the road again.
Barely.
Snow still covers most of the mountain, thick white drifts piled against the cabin and trees, but the wind died sometime before sunrise, leaving the world too quiet in the way storms always do after they finish wrecking everything.
Nora’s already awake when I come back inside from checking the generator.
She’s standing in my kitchen wearing my socks and one of my thermal shirts rolled at the sleeves, her dark hair loose around her shoulders while she squints suspiciously at the ancient coffee maker like she’s considering filing a formal complaint against it.