Page 7

Opening the door at the end of the narrow corridor, I’m met with his bedroom. It’s hard to tell exactly what everything is as my eyes adjust to the dimness. With plush rugs dusting the floor and a tall wardrobe at the end of the room, it’s his bed that catches my eye.

Despite the brown, fluffy bedding and puffy pillows, it’s the sheer size of the mattress that blows my mind. Spanning from end to ‌end of the room, it’s far larger than any king bed I’ve ever seen.

I find a smile tugging at my lips. It’s bigger than my father’s bed. My father, who thinks he’s larger than life and absolutely the most important person in the room. My father, who lives in a ten-bedroom mansion all alone, just because he can.

Yet here is this mountain man who lives in a one-bedroom cabin on a mountain, with a bed that could eat my father’s for breakfast.

“These will fit you.” Arden pulls a pair of track pants and a jumper from the wardrobe, dropping them on the end of his bed. He pauses, and I watch him fight a smirk. “Maybe they’ll be a little big.”

Rubbing again at his chest, I tilt my head. Does he have indigestion? “Thank you,” I say instead. “But where are my clothes?”

Patting the back of his head and smoothing his hair back, Arden avoids my gaze. “They were torn.”

Yeah, I’m not buying that. As I open my mouth to object, Arden raises his hand. “Get changed. I’ll explain more in the living room.”

Stepping by me, his arm brushes my shoulder and my stomach swoops. He smells divine. Like fresh pinecones and man musk. I suck in a breath, hearing the bedroom door shut behind me with a gentle click.

What the hell have I gotten myself into? The last I remember was curling up in my sleeping bag, listening to the growling howl of the storm and the rattle of snow hitting the side of my tent.

I quickly don the clothes Arden has laid out for me. Having to pull the drawstring tight on the pants for them to fit around my waist, they’re at least four sizes too big but comfy enough. Even the jumper swamps me, as the hem reaches my knees and the sleeves fall past my hands.

Despite the cozy decor of his bedroom, the air is far colder than the living room, and I hurry back to the center of the cabin.

Arden leans against the kitchen bench, his face tilted up to the ceiling as he brushes a hand through his thick facial hair. He too has put on a shirt, and I don’t miss the slight pang of disappointment in my chest.

“Are you hungry?” Arden asks. His eyes focus on the stained wooden beam above us.

The mention of food has my stomach answering for me, and Arden chuckles quietly before opening the fridge and pulling out a few containers.

He’s quiet as I watch him from my spot at the edge of the kitchen. My eyes follow the way the huge man moves seamlessly through the drawers and cupboards, putting together a decent-sized lunch of lasagna and canned veg.

Plating up for ‌both of us, Arden stacks his bowl high with three enormous squares of pasta and sauce, where he carefully places mine with a healthy cluster of green beans.

“Eat slowly,” he says as he hands me a silver fork. I clasp the handle, my fingers brushing his as I take the utensil. Since travelling all over the country, I’ve developed the bad habit of trusting strangers. But the food looks delicious and my stomach is eating itself.

“Thank you.” I take my plate and carry it to the dining table, feeling the way Arden’s gaze weighs heavy on my shoulders.

The gentle tap of snow hitting the glass windows fills the cabin as we eat in silence. It’s a calming sound as the wind blows over the roof, as the crackle of the fireplace breaks up the white noise.

“My clothes?” I ask with a tentative voice. I don’t like questioning things. Not when I’ve been told to sit down and shut up all my life. Just the idea of speaking up amidst the silence of the cabin has me freezing up.

Arden lifts his gaze from across the table, his lasagna already nearly finished. “I… had to get them off you quickly. You were hypothermic.”

I nod, yet my memory of how I got here is still blank.

“How did you find me?”

Arden pauses as he chews, swallowing audibly. “I saw your car parked in the lookout parking lot. You weren’t there, so I went looking for you. Finding your tent wasn’t hard.”

Picking my fork through the meal, I separate the layer of pasta from the meat and move the contents around my plate. I’m hungry. So fucking hungry. But my throat is too dry and my heart won’t stop beating a million miles a minute.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” I speak carefully, tasting each syllable on my tongue. “I’ll get out of your hair if you can point me toward the lookout?”

A growl echoes through the cabin, and I gasp, my head swiveling to look for the angry wolf that’s managed to break in. But nothing moves, not even a shadow crosses the windows. The growl fades, and my sights turn back to Arden, who rubs at his chest. His skin flushes with a pink hue and a bead of sweat lines his temple.

“You’ll have to wait for the storm to pass.” He scoops up the last of his lasagna and shoves it into his mouth.

“When will that be?” I ask.