Page 87 of First Bride to Fall
He’d totally made that up!
Whack. Whack. Whack!
The piece of wood splintered into more than a dozen pieces.
Okay, maybe that was too much chopping.
She exhaled, feeling better.
At least she’d made good kindling.
Chapter Fifteen
Grant was pleased with his haul. He’d caught over a dozen fish and had thrown about half of them back, keeping only the big boys. He’d gutted and cleaned them streamside to avoid making a mess at the cabin. He wasn’t callous enough to ask Nell to clean up his outdoor fish-cleaning station, too. He did have some heart.
A heart that he’d have to guard a lot more carefully in the future. Apart from the occasional girlfriend, including boomerang Susan, he’d mostly been a solitary man. Solitude was what he craved and what he enjoyed. He’d never had trouble being his own best company. Just yesterday, he’d started wondering if he should change that.
He’d been so comfortable with Nell the previous evening that he’d started to believe he’d found that kind of compatibility with her. And then, once he’d kissed her, he’d become convinced he had. Her affection had been more than physical. He’d believed there were deep emotions attached. He’d sensed that he and Nell were on the brink of a once-in-a-lifetime thing, the kind of relationship most people only dream of.
But sadly, he’d been mistaken.
The sun had not completely set, but it sank low on the horizon, grazing a mountain ridge. When he approached the cabin, he saw smoke curling through its chimney pipe. At least she hadn’t let the fire go out. So that was something.
She was probably sitting by the woodstove knitting on that hat of hers and stewing about what an ape man he was. By the time he showered and changed, her sisters would likely be on the doorstep, which was great with him. He knew what he was cooking tonight, and it was pretty clearly something Nell didn’t like. Fresh-caught trout.
“Guess what’s for dinner?” he announced, opening the front door. He left his gear on the front porch and planned to stow that away after depositing his cooler of fish in the kitchen.
But when he walked inside, he stopped on a dime.
Where was he, and what had Nell done with his cabin?
She glanced at him from where she sat on the sofa with a beautiful grin. Her hair was long and damp, and it looked like she’d recently showered. “Well, hi there! Good fishing?” She held her knitting in her lap with her two knitting needles poised in the air. Her foot rested on the chest with the ice pack positioned on top of her wrapped ankle.
Low flames leaped in the woodstove, and their glow filled the room, which had been completely tidied up and apparently dusted. The kitchen was clean, too. And the floors beneath him shone. They smelled good—like oil soap. The entire place had a fresh scent, a mixture of lemon and pine.
“Wow, Nell.” He was flabbergasted. “You did all this?”
She proudly squared her shoulders. “I did.”
“But why?”
“Because we’re dividing the labor,” she said sweetly, and his heart pinged.
Uh-oh.
No, no. Stop that.
“You’re the hunter-gatherer guy.” She batted her eyelashes at him. “And I’m your domestic goddess.”
Okay, of the many things he’d expected, it wasn’t this.
“You, uh.” He looked around the room again, noticing the door to the bathroom was open. Shiny porcelain and gleaming fixtures glinted back in his direction. “Cleaned the bathroom, too?”
“I don’t mind being your goddess, Grant,” she said in sultry tones.
His heart pounded. Wow. That sounded sexy.
“As long as you’ll be my Greek god.”
