I sip my hot chocolate, feeling oddly content.

My muscles are sore, of course, since I’m not exactly used to hauling lumber and shoveling snow. But it’s a good kind of sore. I actually feel… accomplished.

Which is weird, because back in my old life, back in the city, I never felt accomplished after doing simple chores. Now here I am up in the mountains with Ethan and I feel good after chopping wood.

I smile to myself and idly scratch Jones’s ear. I sip the hot chocolate and watch the snow falling outside, not really thinking about much of anything. I feel so content here, in a way I wasn’t really expecting. I sort of thought I’d feel super uncomfortable, considering Ethan is basically a stranger. Instead, we have this easy rapport, joking and flirting and teasing, and I have to admit that I really do find this whole area incredibly beautiful.

I don’t love that we’re so isolated from the rest of the world, but the landscape is incredible. Jones is a good dog, and this house is amazing. I don’t think I’d want to live around here in something that isn’t a damn mansion, but still. This suits me pretty well so far.

I don’t notice Ethan come back into the room. I’m surprised by a noise in the kitchen and look over to spot him pouring himself a whisky. It’s a little early for that, but I don’t comment on it.

He sips his drink and watches me. “Just talked to Shelly,” he says.

“How’s she making out?”

“Fine,” he says. “Gotta be a pretty big storm to make her complain.”

I nod, smiling. I’m not surprised at all. “I liked her, on the ride up here at least.”

“She’s a good person. Honestly I’m not sure what I’d do here without her.”

“Starve, probably.”

He smiles. “Probably.” His smile slowly fades away and I can tell he wants to say something. “Look, about the snow.”

I sigh and watch him. “How bad?”

“Bad,” he says.

I bite my lip. “A few days?”

“I think more like a week.”

I stare at him for a second, letting those words sink in. I knew this was a possibility, but finding it out for sure makes me panic. I have nothing here, none of my stuff, and my phone doesn’t even work. I’m totally reliant on this absolute stranger, and oh yeah, I’m pregnant with his freaking baby and he doesn’t even know it.

I can feel myself panicking, and I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to melt down in front of him, but I also don’t have anywhere else to go. I suddenly feel like my world is closing in around me as I get to my feet, tipping over my mug of hot chocolate.

“Oh, fuck,” I say, “fucking shit, I’m sorry, oh shit.”

I awkwardly try to clean it up but he comes over.

“It’s okay, hey, it’s okay. Seriously, are you okay?”

I’m breathing fast as I step away from him, eyes wide. “I’m just, I’m okay,” I say, practically gasping for air. I feel dizzy and like my vision is slowly turning black. I stumble away from him, and I run right into the kitchen counter somehow, grabbing myself before I can fall.

And then he’s there. He grabs me in his arms, swooping me up off my feet. He carries me over to the couch and puts me down. “Just breathe,” he says. “Come on, deep breaths. In and out.”

I concentrate on his voice. I start to breathe deeper and more evenly, forcing myself to get some air. I was gasping and taking shallow breaths before, and already I’m starting to feel better as my pulse slowly begins to calm down.

“There you go,” he says softly. “Deep breaths, just concentrate on breathing right now. In and out, you’ll be okay. Just deep breaths.”

He breathes with me, deep in and deep out, going slow. Eventually I feel more in control of myself and I sit up, feeling like an idiot.

He smiles at me a little bit. “You okay?” he asks.

I nod a little. “Could I have some water?”

“Of course.” He walks into the kitchen, and comes back a minute later with some paper towels and a glass of water for me. I sip the cold water while he cleans up the hot chocolate.

“I’m really sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

“I know. It’s okay.”

Jones comes up to me, nudging against my legs. I smile and pet his head, scratching behind his ears.

I finish my water and he looks at me with a little concerned frown on his face. “Have you, uh, ever had a panic attack before?” he asks.

I cock my head. “Panic attack?”

“Sure, that’s what that was.”

“Huh,” I say, and of course that’s what it was. I don’t know why I didn’t realize it at the time. Probably because I was having a panic attack and couldn’t think straight. “No, that’s never happened to me before.”

He nods a little. “You’ll get used to it. If it ever happens again.”

“Has it ever happened to you?”

He looks away, out toward the window into the middle distance, like he’s remembering something. “I was having them for a little while there,” he says finally. “But I got it under control.”

He walks back into the kitchen and comes back with a spray cleaner and more paper towels. He dabs at the floor, and fortunately most of the chocolate missed the rug. He gets it cleaned up the best he can while I scratch Jones’s ear.

It’s strange and a little ironic that he was both the cause of my panic attack and the solution. If he weren’t here, I don’t know what would have happened to me. I guess it would have passed sooner or later, but he managed to pick me up so effortlessly and talk me down so quickly that I didn’t have to suffer for long. Honestly, it surprises me how gentle he can be, especially for such a big, rough-seeming man.

He smiles at me and takes my empty glass. He fills it up and sits back down on the couch next to me.

“You okay?” he asks.

I nod. “I’m okay, I think.”

He sighs. “I know this isn’t ideal.”

I grin. “That’s putting it lightly.

“Yeah, okay, this fucking sucks. But you’re here, and we have to make the best of it, right?”

“Right,” I say, feeling nervous. “So what, you’ll have me chopping wood for a week?”

“Ideally,” he says, musing a little bit. “Maybe you can clean the house, wash the cars, and give Jones a bath. Have you ever laid roofing tile? I think the shed could use some new shingles.”

I roll my eyes. “No way you’re getting me out there in this,” I say.

“I already did once.” He grins and nudges me. “Soon you’ll be putting in a full day’s work and feeling proud of your accomplishment.”

I groan and nudge him back. “Fat chance.”

“Come on, you don’t want to feel that sweet exhaustion after working with your hands?”

“Nope,” I say. “That’s why I’m a writer.”

He leans back on the couch, a smile on his face. “I know I owned the company, but there’s still something special about working out there.”

“Did you actually ever cut down some trees?”

“Sure,” he says. “At least a few times a year I joined this one group down south of here near my first lumber yard. I’d go out with them and put in a full day, cutting down trees, chopping them up, transporting them, the whole thing. It was hard work but I think it kept me grounded.”

I’m a little surprised, but I shouldn’t be. He looks like a man that’s not a stranger to hard work, even if he is incredibly rich.

“Why?” I ask. “I mean, you didn’t need to do that.”

“No, but it kept me grounded. And honestly, I enjoyed the work. Sometimes I think I would have been happier if someone else owned the company and I could just work.”

I laugh softly. “I bet your employees hated hearing that.”

He grins at me. “I never said it around them.”

“How old were you when you started Reid Lumber?”

“Twenty-five,” he says.

“That’s really young.”

“I know.”

“How’d you end up starting Reid, anyway?” I ask. That’s one of the prevailing mysteries about Ethan. I know the general story, about how he had some friends working in lumber yards and he decided he could run a more modern company. But I have no clue how he got the capital to begin it all, or where he got his ideas for his early innovations.

He gets a little cagey at this point. “It just fell into my lap,” he says. “You know how that goes.”

“But where’d you get the money? I mean, you weren’t born rich, right?”

“Right,” he says, but he doesn’t answer the first part of my question.

“So how did you afford the startup capital?” I press.

He frowns at me. “You’re interviewing me right now, aren’t you?”

“I sure am,” I say. “Did you forget why I’m here?”

He smiles a little and stands up. “I’ll have to be careful around you then. Can’t let my guard down.”

I smile at him but he walks away, back into the kitchen. He didn’t answer my question about the money, and I’m not sure if he dodged it for any particular reason, or if he just didn’t want to be interviewed.

I look down at Jones and he looks up at me, his deep brown eyes meeting mine. I smile and he licks my hand, which makes me laugh. “Do you know why your owner is so tight-lipped about himself?” I ask Jones.

“Leave my dog out of this,” Ethan calls from the kitchen, which makes me laugh.

I stand up, feeling better. I still feel a little on edge, but at least I got over the panic attack.

I guess things could be worse. I’m stuck in a gorgeous mansion with a nice dog and an incredibly handsome, rich, fascinating man. Sure, we’re strangers, and I’m carrying his baby, but still. He’s a nice person. I can see it in his eyes. He genuinely seems to care.

But I also see that other thing, the reason he’s keeping himself locked away in this mountain. I know there’s something more to the story than just the accident at his mill. Accidents happen all the time, and sometimes people even die. Losing seven men must have been incredibly hard, but I don’t think he would have locked himself away like this unless there was more to the story.

I want to get to the bottom of it. Maybe I’ll put it into my profile of him, or maybe I won’t. But either way, I want to know the father of my child. Until I understand him, I’m going to keep the truth about my visit here to myself, I decide.

Maybe that’s a convenient excuse to keep putting off this difficult thing, but I’m stuck here for a while. I’ll have plenty of time to come clean to him.

I just hope he’s as kind and understanding when the time comes to tell him the truth as I think he can be.