Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 35133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
“You always play host like this?” she asks.
“I don’t have guests.”
Her lips part slightly at that, just for a second. “Then what am I?”
The word lands harder than I expect. Her chin lifts immediately, defensive.
I let the silence linger, realizing that she’s here to stay, she did answer my mail-order bride ad afterall. I brush my hands together and move toward the window, scanning the tree line out of habit. It’s getting dark faster than it should, the air heavy, the kind that signals a storm rolling in whether you’re ready for it or not.
“You eat?” I ask without looking back.
She shrugs. “I’m fine.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
“I said I’m fine.”
I turn then. She hasn’t moved from that spot, but the tension in her shoulders is sharper now, more telling. Hungry. Tired. Pushing through both.
“Sit,” I tell her.
Her eyes flash immediately. “Don’t start.”
“Sit,” I repeat, lowering my voice just enough to make it clear I’m not asking.
She holds my gaze, long and steady, like she’s weighing whether this is a fight she wants to pick. Then, after a beat, she moves, dropping into the chair at the table like it was her idea all along.
I almost smile. Almost.
I grab a plate, set it in front of her, then turn back to the stove.
“You cook too?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
“Anything you don’t do?”
“Plenty.”
She leans back slightly, studying me now the same way I studied her earlier, her attention sharper.
“Like what?”
I glance at her over my shoulder. “Like letting people walk all over me.”
That quiets her for a second. Good.
I finish plating the food and set it down in front of her. She looks at it, then up at me.
“You trying to impress me?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
I plant a hand on the table, leaning in just enough that she has to tilt her head back to keep eye contact.
“Keeping you alive.”
Her breath catches, quick and involuntary, but she recovers just as fast.
“Pretty sure I can feed myself.”
“Not if you’re distracted.”
“By what?”
I hold her gaze. “By whoever’s watching you.”
The silence that follows is heavy, thick with something unspoken. She looks away first, reaching for the fork, taking a bite without another word. She doesn’t comment on the food, but she eats, fast at first, like she didn’t realize how hungry she was until now.
I watch her for a moment longer, then step back, giving her space, not much, just enough.
“You always this intense?” she asks between bites.
“Yeah.”
“Must be exhausting.”
“It’s not.”
She glances up. “No?”
“No.”
“Why?”
I shrug once. “I don’t waste energy on things that don’t matter.”
Her fork pauses halfway to her mouth. “And I matter?”
There it is.
I don’t answer right away. I just watch her, let the silence stretch again until I see the pulse in her throat jump, until she knows I notice it.
“You’re here,” I say finally.
“That’s not an answer.”
“It is.”
Her lips part, then press together again as she goes back to eating, slower this time, thinking.
The cabin settles into quiet after that, filled only with the crackle of the fire and the growing wind outside, and the subtle sounds of her moving through the space like she belongs here more than she should. I don’t like how quickly that thought takes hold, or how right it feels. Plenty of women answered the ad, but a few five-minute phone calls was all it took to rule them out. I was about to delete the ad altogether, but something with Maddie felt different.
She finishes and pushes the plate away. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
She stands, stretching slightly, and my gaze tracks the movement before I can stop it, catching the brief flash of skin where her shirt rides up. Warm. Soft. I look away before it becomes a problem.
“Bathroom’s through there,” I say, nodding toward the hallway.
She follows the gesture, then looks back at me. “You going to stand guard outside the door too?”
“If I have to.”
Her mouth curves just a little. “Control issues?”
“Survival instincts.”
“Same thing.”
“Not even close.”
She holds my gaze for a beat longer, then turns and disappears down the hall.
I exhale slowly and drag a hand over the back of my neck. This is going to be a problem.
I move back to the window, scanning the tree line again. It’s fully dark now, the wind picking up harder, branches swaying, shadows shifting. Then I see it. Movement. Subtle, controlled, not the storm.
My body stills as I step closer to the glass, narrowing my focus. A shadow moves between the trees, then disappears. Gone, but not gone enough.
I know what I saw.
“Maddie,” I call.
Her voice comes from down the hall. “Yeah?”
“Come here.”
There’s a pause, then footsteps. She appears in the doorway, her brows pulling together at my tone.
“What?”
I gesture toward the window. “Look.”
She steps closer, stopping beside me, close enough that I can feel the heat of her through the narrow space between us.
“What am I looking for?” she asks.
“Movement.”
She leans in slightly, squinting into the dark. “I don’t see—”