The Cabin

Maybe the universe was trying to tell me something.

Tromping back to the house, Maggie kept jumping at my side, trying to inspect our new houseguest.

“Guest,” I stressed to the dog. “Not a permanent resident.”

I wasn’t a fan of cats and their sketchy behavior. Jessica had loved them but sneezed her head off any time she came within twenty yards of one, so I didn’t have to learn to live with their manic personalities. And I didn’t know shit about kittens except that cats could be in heat from spring to fall. Since it was now mid-October, this one must have been in one of the last batches of the season.

I looked around and listened for additional squeaks, wondering where its mother was and if the other kittens were okay. Damn, I was going soft. Since Maggie would alert me to any additional intruders, I could only assume this little guy was on his own.

Back in the house, I grew softer still when my eyes went immediately to the goddess. Then I hardened them. Hardened my heart. Hardened everything except the one thing I wouldn’t be needing. My dick. That part of my body needed to behave itself.

This stray was temporary too, I reminded myself.

The snow would melt and the goddess would leave.

She wasn’t mine to keep.

And she was better off that way.





CHAPTER FIVE


Zoe


I woke to the scent of coffee brewing and some other wonderful scent filling my nose. I opened my eyes a slit, the orange glow of the fire sending bursts of pain into my head.

I groaned.

It was ridiculous how much my head hurt. I’d had migraines as a teen, but this made them seem like a minor ache. Blinking to clear my vision, it stayed blurry instead.

I felt him approach before I saw him, his socked feet not making a sound on the wood floor. He sat on the ottoman in front of me and my entire world suddenly revolved around him.

“How are you feeling?”

Pushing up into a sitting position, I winced as the movement speared into me. “I’m not sure.”

His lips quirked up, but it couldn’t officially be called a smile. “I’d say you probably feel like you fell down a mountain.”

I probed the scratch under my eye. “Yeah, after a snowplow ran over me a couple of times.”

The lips quirked up a bit more, and the way the almost-smile crinkled the corner of his eyes was disarming. “What would you like to drink? I’ve got coffee, water, a variety of juices. Orange, apple, grape. Soft drinks. Sprite. Coke. Dr. Pepper. We’ll try food a little later after we see how your stomach handles the liquid.”

I blushed. “What? You don’t want me to throw up on your nice oriental rug? I was so graceful about it earlier.”

He laughed, and the rumble of the sound vibrated the air around us. “It’ll clean up if you do. I’m more worried about how all that heaving would shake your already shaken brain.”

My fingers moved to the cut on my head, only to find a thick layer of gauze there. I wasn’t sure when he’d done that. “I’m not sure there is much brain left. I think it all leaked out of this hole.”

The smile faded, his beautiful blue eyes growing serious. “You’re very lucky.”

Our eyes met. Locked. My stomach churned for a different reason. “I know. Thank you for being there. For saving me.”

Silence stretched between us, and so did something else that was unfamiliar. It was like the blizzard had changed the amount of gravity in the room, pressing us together. He broke the eye contact first and pushed himself into a standing position. “What do you want? Juice?”

“Yes. Apple if that’s okay.”

His jeans fit his ass like a glove, I noticed as he headed into the kitchen area, and I pulled my gaze away and took the opportunity to look around the cabin. It was at least three times the size of mine with floor-to-ceiling windows that would shine tomorrow’s light onto the open floor plan.

In addition to the oversized leather sofa I sat on, a couple chairs were clustered around the huge fireplace while other chairs sat in front of a wall of shelves filled with hundreds of books. Exposed beams soared overhead, the high ceiling making the room appear to be even larger than it was. Through the windows, I could see the wraparound deck with a sunroom off to one side.

The entire place exuded masculinity, but not in a beat-your-chest kind of way. It was warm and soothing, much like the man himself. The man who was now pouring my juice and something else… whiskey? He dropped a cinnamon stick in and gave it a quick stir.

“Here, I added a little something to help sooth your nerves,” he said as he placed the glass in my hands. I sniffed the concoction and he chuckled. “It’s called an Apple Jack, made with Jack Daniels.”

I looked warily down into the liquid. “An Apple Jack for the lumberjack?”

The smile broadened but still didn’t show his teeth. “Try it. If you don’t like it, I’ll pour you straight apple.”

Still wary, I lifted it to my lips and took a sip, grimacing as the alcohol burned its way down. He laughed again, a soft rumbling sound that curled my toes. Despite the burn, it wasn’t bad, and I took another sip. That one was better.

Even though I’d just woken up, I yawned. “Sorry. I’m not sure why I’m so tired.”

He leaned forward and pulled a piece of hair from my face. It was stuck to my skin like glue. “You’ll probably feel that way for a few days. How about we get you cleaned up and these wounds tended, then you can sleep through the night.”

I glanced around for a clock. “What time is it?”

“A little after eight.”

That shook me. I’d been asleep for a few hours. It only felt like a few minutes.

I took another sip but didn’t want to risk another. I could already feel the liquid swirling around in my stomach, and not in a good way. “I think I’m finished for now.”

He took the glass from my hand and set it on the table beside me. “Let’s get your wounds cleaned up.”

Scooting the ottoman closer to me, he moved until my knees were between his jean-clad thighs. I could smell him now. A mixture of wood and some masculine smelling bodywash, but there was something even more alluring hiding beneath the scent. Him.

I swallowed hard and his hands lifted to my head, his face so very near to mine now. As he began the process of unwrapping the bandage, my fingers itched to touch his beard. It was thick and looked so soft, and I yearned to know how it felt. How the full lips beneath it felt as they…

Stop it.