Page 30 of Rescued By the Mountain Man Cowboy
One, to get some distance before I do something stupid. And two, because I’m feeling certain areas flutter that have been dormant for ages.
And we can’t have that. Nope. Uh-uh.
Madison’s ridiculous idea from earlier comes to mind.
Grumbling, I curse my closest friend under my breath as I grab what I need to shower.
What did Sandra Bullock say in Speed?
“…relationships based on intense experiences never work.”
See? Bad idea.
Chapter Six
LUKE
Three days.
That's how long I've been pretending the woman in my cabin isn't slowly rearranging my goddamn life.
She moved the coffee mugs. Found a logic in the cabinets I swore was already perfect and proved me wrong inside an afternoon. Cooked dinner two nights running, both of them better than anything I've put on a plate in this house since I bought it. Galbi one night. A noodle dish the next that had me going back for thirds before I caught myself.
Her stuff is creeping into the bathroom too. There’s a small pink bottle of something I do not understand on the counter next to my razor. A hair tie on the doorknob.
Three days, and she's wearing me down by existing.
I stand at the kitchen window with my coffee and watch her braid her hair on the porch in the early light. Bare feet. My old gray hoodie pulled over her knees. Hair shining wet from the shower. Concentration on her face like braiding it is the most important task she's got today.
I should not be looking.
I'm looking.
I knock on the window. She jumps. Spins. Sees me. Sticks her tongue out.
I jerk my head toward the truck.
"What?" she calls through the glass.
"Coming with me today."
"Where?"
"Work."
"What kind of work?"
"Cattle work. Boots, jeans, layers. Five minutes."
She narrows her eyes. Considers. Pushes herself off the porch boards and goes inside without arguing.
That's new.
I rinse my mug. Twist the lid on a thermos for her. Grab my keys. I'm not leaving her in the cabin alone today. Madison drove back to Eden Ridge yesterday afternoon to pick up some files, and the thought of Anna in this cabin without another set of eyes on her for ten hours has been gnawing at me since I woke at four. She's safer with me. She's also driving me out of my mind. Both things are true at once, and I've decided I can live with one of them better than the other.
She comes out in jeans, a flannel of mine she stole off the spare bed two nights ago, and a pair of boots Madison scared up from somewhere. Her hair's in the braid now. No makeup. Hands shoved in the flannel pockets like she's never been so cold.
"Reporting for duty, Sergeant Davis."
