Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Everything is covered in a fine layer of soot, like the whole cabin had aged ten years in ten minutes. I crouch near the fireplace, running a hand along the cold bricks and bending to take a quick look inside.
I’m no expert, but to me, it looks like the flue is clogged solid, probably with years of bird nests and pine needles. She’d had no chance. Any spark would’ve blown straight back into the room, exactly like it had.
Sighing as I straighten up, I sweep my gaze around the room again, quickly assessing the situation. As far as I can tell, there is no heat, no insulation worth a damn, and no working chimney.
I don’t have to be an expert or a genius to conclude she can stay here.
The thought should be logistical, just a simple observation, but as soon as it crosses my mind, a smile tugs at my mouth.
Our place is warm. Safe. With room to spare.
Hell of a coincidence.
When I glance at the open door, Dillon is crouched on the porch steps, grinning like an idiot while Chance leans against a post, his arms crossed. Between them, the woman is gesturing with one hand as she speaks, her voice low but confident.
“…hadn’t earned my damn fire-making patch. I thought I was a goner when it started, I swear.”
Whatever Dillon says in return makes her chuckle, the sound so quick and unguarded it rolls right through the smoke and burrows in somewhere under my ribs. Yep, she definitely has a spark to her.
She is a lot more brash than any woman I’ve met in a long time, quick-tongued too. I mean, she’d mouthed off to a stranger with at least a hundred pounds on her without even blinking. From what I can tell, she isn’t scared, either.
Not of us. Not of the situation.
That alone is rare out here, the street-smart, big-city vibe that makes a person so comfortable around other people you can banter even before you know their names. That’s the vibe she gave off, anyway.
“You said you saw the smoke,” she’s saying to Dillon when I tune in to their conversation again. “How did you say that happened again?”
Her tone doesn’t say cross-examination, but Chance recognizes it immediately for what it is. “We didn’t say. Not yet, but we’ve got nothing to hide. We live just on the other side of the ridge, and we have a lot of windows. We’ve already told you that fire isn’t something people mess around with out here.”
“Right,” she drawls, stretching out the word as her eyes locked on his. “So, what? You just saw the smoke and raced right over?”
“Pretty much, yep,” Dillon responds with an understanding, knowing grin. “We mean you no harm. We come in peace. All that stuff. It’s just like he said. We live right over the ridge, and we didn’t know anyone was here. If it was a fire, our house could’ve been right in its path.”
As she thinks it over, I take a closer look at her. The hoodie she wears had seen better days, the fabric stretched out and the dark blue color faded. It doesn’t do much to hide her shape, though. Those curves that don’t belong on someone so delicate.
The strong, capable lines of her legs. Clearly, her body was made for motion. Work. She hadn’t come here just to pose on the porch with the woods as a backdrop for her profile picture.
I should turn back to the fireplace to make sure nothing is smoldering there, but instead I find myself standing longer than necessary, just taking her in. When she laughs again, throwing her head back a little this time, I realize I could stare at her all day without getting bored.
But I can’t do that now. The breeze is turning into wind, and the sun will be setting any minute.
Meanwhile, she can’t stay here.
For her own safety, of course.
That is what I told myself as I turn toward the door and go back outside. “The chimney’s blocked solid. It’s not safe to light a fire here right now.”
She looks up, soot smudged on her cheek, but those green eyes sharp and alarmed. “So, what, you want me to just freeze to death?”
I meet her stare, that stubborn chin lifting like she is daring me to say yes. “No, you’re coming with us.”
Dillon and Chance are still on the porch, and if I’d had any doubts about where their heads were, one look at them cleared it up. They’re both watching her, not being subtle about it either. Chance with that quiet, assessing stare of his, Dillon with a grin that said he was already halfway in trouble.
The girl, for her part, stands her ground like she’d done this a hundred times before. With one hand on her hip and her chin up high, she’s covered in smoke, dust, and attitude.