Page 12 of Seducing Sasquatch

“Come on, hiker. It’s dinnertime. After that, I’ll show you how to load a gun.”

Arden turns toward the cabin, the shotgun held over his shoulder as he sweeps piles of snow to the side for me to easily follow.

Yet despite the way I feel myself perk up at the idea of food, my gaze lands on the sea of snow surrounding me. I know what I saw. Real human footprints the length of my arm. Hundreds of them. Like someone had been pacing back and forth beyond the cabin.

A shiver runs up my spine.

“Nice to know you care about me, hiker!” Arden calls from the front door.

“My name’s Blake!” I retort, chasing after him and escaping the frigid gale.

Tomorrow I’ll investigate it more. Maybe then I can prove I’m not useless after all.

CHAPTER 7

ARDEN

To say I’m not completely beside myself to find Blake in the snow with my shotgun in his hands would be a lie.

I’d managed to shift back to myself and was only in the shed for a few hours, piecing together my broken snowmobile when I heard him shout my name. His voice, laced with desperation and fear, had my skin crawling.

But what’s worse is when I realized just how much I hate lying to him. The look on his face as his eyes wandered the expanse of the snow, finding my footprints disappearing before his eyes as another layer of ice fell from the sky.

I want to tell him. I want him to see me for who I really am. But he’s not ready yet.

I place the shotgun back into the hooks above the mantel, my sigh filling the quiet space of the cabin.

Blake stands awkwardly beside the couch, his arms wrapped around his middle and his gaze turned to the windows.

“While you’re putting away my jacket and boots, there’s another pair of pants in the wardrobe,” I grumble.

Blake nods, his teeth chewing his lip, which I’ve come to realize is likely an anxious tic.

Shuffling away from the living room and down the hall, I watch the younger man as he pulls the jacket from his shoulders, revealing his pert ass beneath my borrowed sweatpants. His hips sway with each step, and I wonder what his waist would feel like between my palms.

Heat blooms in my groin, and I adjust my thickening cock. I’ve always enjoyed telling my bed partners what to do. Maybe it’s because I like being in control, or because I like the way their eyes glisten when their head is empty of thoughts.

Blake’s hazel eyes flash in my mind. Sparkling and wild, his pupils blown and his brain void of all worry.

Just how he should be.

I swallow, pressing the back of my palm against my forehead. Shit. I can’t be thinking like this about a man who hasn’t so much as made a move in my direction. For now, all I need to be for him is something solid he can rely on. Even if he is only here for a week.

The pattering of footsteps pulls me from my spiraling thoughts, and the sight I come to has my jaw tightening until my teeth crack.

Pale, porcelain skin, adorned with thousands of tiny freckles, greets me. Yet it’s not Blake’s thin, toned waist or his hairless chest that has my blood rushing south, but the two bars of metal pierced through his dusty pink nipples.

Blake is full of surprises.

The barbells twinkle against the flicker of firelight as he watches me with a gentle smirk.

“I hope you don’t mind; I grabbed a fresh shirt too.” His voice glides over my skin, and every instinct screams at me to go to him. It’s the fight to keep my feet planted that has the approving growl in my chest restrained.

“That’s fine.” I suck in a breath, tasting Blake’s scent on my tongue. Fresh linen and spring air.

Blake’s brow furrows. “Are you okay? You look angry?”

I feel the tension in my forehead and the way my eyes squint down at him. Schooling my face and relaxing my shoulders, I roll up my sleeves. “I’m not angry, hiker.”