Page 5

She takes a few steps into the crowded single room and pauses before turning in a circle. My chest aches from holding my breath and I force myself to release a long slow flow of air, hoping she doesn’t notice.

The dim interior does nothing to hide the sparkle of eyes the color of mossy green and dark autumn leaves swirling together. Her smile is dazzling. The movement of her lips holds my focus as she speaks. “Your place is exactly what I expect a mountain cabin to be. I’ve been here only a minute and it already feels comfortable. Like how a home should feel.”

Pink crawls up her neck to fill her cheeks and she tucks her lush lower lip between her teeth. There’s an apology hovering there, one she doesn’t need to make.

I set down the suitcase and close the door. “It’s not much, but it suits me. We’ll have to do a little rearranging to make room for you.” I spread my hands. “This is all there is, other than the bathroom.”

She looks around again, her gaze lingering on my bed in one corner before landing on the tiny kitchen area. “It’s perfect. The couch looks long enough for me for sleeping.”

“You should take the bed.” The words slip out without any thought and I wince. “I… uh… I’m not… I didn’t mean…”

Her laugh is like the sun bursting through dark storm clouds. “I know you didn’t mean anything. And no, I’m not taking your bed.” Her gaze sweeps over me from my feet to my head. “You’re too tall for the couch. You’d hang over the end and be uncomfortable. Besides, I’m just here because of, well, circumstances. I don’t want to disrupt your life in any way.”

It’s too late for that.

She moves farther into the room, running her fingertips over the back of the couch. The pink that hasn’t faded from her skin deepens. “Um, I could use that bathroom.”

“Of course. Sorry. The door is around the corner from the bed. I’ll get the chili reheating.”

With a nod of thanks, she heads toward the door. I place her suitcase near the fireplace and grin when I hear her gasp. I’ve recently remodeled and modernized the bath. Even with the modern fixtures and fancy shower, it still has a rustic vibe. I’ll admit to being a creature of comfort when it comes to a shower and there’s nothing better than relaxing there after a long day in the forge. Eventually I’ll get around to fixing up the rest of the cabin.

I set the pot of chili on to reheat then stand in front of my single cupboard and tiny fridge. With only me eating, I hadn’t considered anything to go with the chili. A guest deserves more. Shit, I don’t even have a package of crackers.

“That smells great.”

Jerking around I meet her cheeky grin. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. I’ve been told I move too quietly sometimes. The chili really does smell delicious.”

“Thanks.”

She moves closer and after a moment’s hesitation, touches my forearm. “What’s wrong?”

Forcing the tightness from my shoulders I glance sideways at her. This isn’t a big deal, but I hadn’t expected her to sense my discomfort. “I wasn’t expecting company. Not ready to host. I don’t have anything to go with the chili.”

“A bowl of hot food is all I need.”

“That I can do.”

“Um…”

“Yes?”

“I’m pretty good at making something out of not much. If you don’t mind, I can look through your supplies and maybe come up with something you haven’t thought of.” Her tone is hesitant yet hopeful and I wonder what kind of treatment she actually received while she was with Pete. Maybe even before that.

“You’re welcome to look. I’ve got basics but nothing fancy.”

The brilliance of her smile makes me want to say yes to her for any request, just to see how her eyes sparkle. “Great. Thank you for trusting me.”

Trust? For allowing her to look through the cupboard? There’s a story here, probably not a happy one. I have a past, too, so I bite back a need to ask questions. Instead I open the fridge. “Let me know what I can do to help.”

Nodding, she studies the fridge contents then moves to the cupboard. Finally, she turns to me. “One of the places where we lived when I was growing up has a tradition of serving cinnamon rolls with chili. Some people even pour chili over the rolls, but that’s icky. Anyway, there’s not enough time to make cinnamon rolls, but you do have all the ingredients for biscuits. I can add cinnamon sugar to them and they’ll be almost the same as cinnamon rolls.”

“Good plan. I’ll get the oven going then you can tell me what to do next.”

Her gaze is assessing and my thoughts fly far from biscuits and chili. Suddenly I’m not hungry for food. To hide the uncomfortable interest rising behind my zipper, I turn toward the stove. Taking the time to give the chili a stir and lower the heat gives me precious moments to regain control. Behind me, she puts her ingredients on the bar height table that serves more as a prep counter than an eating place and starts the biscuits.

She doesn’t really need my help, so I stand to one side and just watch her efficient and practiced movements. Within minutes a pan of biscuits swirled and topped with cinnamon sugar are in the oven. The aroma makes my mouth water. I’ve become accustomed to my quick, basic, nothing to write home about meals. Tonight’s supper will feel like a feast.

While we wait for the biscuits, I uncover the second bar stool and we sit at the table making small talk. The easy conversation continues through the meal, interrupted only by my praise of the light, fluffy biscuits and her downplaying her skill. Her reaction to compliments makes me wonder about her past. Anger at whoever made her believe she’s less than she is keeps me silent as we clean up after the meal.