Chapter Three

Rayne

I’m still not convinced this is a good idea. I wish it was because I feared for my safety. I’ve pretty much realized at this point that Lorn wants less to do with me than I do him.

No. I’m more scared that I’m going to do something inappropriate. The man is intoxicating. I can’t fathom what it is about him that has my body reacting this way, but it scares me. I don’t want to be attracted to this backwoods buffoon.

Then again, given our conversation, it’s pretty clear that Lorn is no uneducated mountain man. There’s a sharp intelligence behind his eyes, and he’s matched me answer for answer, not giving me any room to be right.

I hate that in a man.

I walk up the porch steps and cast a wary glance behind me. The world is cast in fluttering shades of white as snowflakes plummet to the ground en masse. There certainly shouldn’t be anyone but the two of us here.

The two of us.

“Goddamnit, Helen,” I grumble as I walk past Lorn. When my assistant booked this place, she assured me that I would be the only person within a hundred miles. I figured there might be a person or two running the main cabin, but this man roams the land. He could easily get in my way on a regular basis.

That is not what I envisioned.

Warmth overtakes me as I step inside. The scent of wooden walls and a cozy fire permeate the entire space, and I’m reminded of a cozy Christmas scene from a card. The fire is in a black woodstove, which pumps heat into the space, and I am instantly warmed through. A large sofa sits in front of the fire. Two large cases full of books line one wall. A small kitchen stands off to the side, and various black pots and pans dangle from the ceiling there.

I’m feeling very Seven Brides for Seven Brothers right now. Maybe Lorn will make me do all his chores. God, that’s ridiculous. The place is immaculate—how much time does he even spend in here?

If I were him, I’d never leave. It’s the most comfortable place in the world.

I move to stand next to the fire. I’m not quite ready to remove my jacket. I may be warm, but I want to be toasty. The cold dissolves, and I’m grateful that this burly mountain man found me. If he hadn’t, I could have been in for a rough and scary night.

I can feel his presence in the room. He’s impossible to ignore. I wonder that he even fits in this cabin, he’s so large. He moves to stand next to me before the woodstove and holds his hands out to the heat.

“Are you hungry?” His voice is warming up from use.

My stomach grumbles at his question—I haven’t eaten since before I boarded the flight to get here this morning.

“I could eat,” I say.

I’m warm enough now that I’m growing uncomfortable, so I unzip my jacket and strip it off my shoulders. Lorn reaches over and grabs it without asking, and he places it on the back of the couch.

“I can make some instant noodles. I’m not completely bereft of modern conveniences. I do have a microwave.”

I glance up at him and can hardly repress my laugh.

“Microwave instant noodles? Seriously?”

He steps back, and his expression closes. I’ve offended him. He’s offered me his home and his food, and I’ve done nothing but fight him every step of the way.

Whatever my situation, it is not Lorn’s fault. I step forward and place a hand on his forearm. He’s still wearing his coat. He’s got to be hot.

I mean, he’s hot, obviously. But like, temperature hot.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be so rude to you. I didn’t expect this adventure to start quite this way, and I lost control of a situation, which I can’t stand. Anyway, I’m sorry.”

His eyes widen in surprise at this, like he didn’t ever expect kindness from me. He’s mentioned several times that all he wants is to be left alone, too. Why?

He nods, and I find that it’s a struggle to remove my fingertips from his muscular forearm. What does it look like under all this pesky cloth?

Wait, no. Focus, Rayne. This is alone time. Don’t complicate it.

“Apology accepted. Are you still too good for instant ramen?”

This time, I do smile up at him. “Absolutely. Are you willing to give me access to your kitchen? As payment for your kindness I can teach you a thing or two about cooking.”

“Oh? And what makes you the expert?”

“Twenty-five restaurants and bakeries, all across the globe.”

“You own a restaurant chain? That’s how you can afford to rent out this entire place?”

I’ve given away too much. I need to keep the mystery alive here, for my own safety. I shrug and feign nonchalance. “Something like that. Anyway, I can cook. Do you want a delicious meal tonight, or would you prefer to dine on some stale old noodles?”

“They’ve been good enough for me these past few…”

He stops, like he’s also caught himself giving too much away. His eyes take me in, and he measures me up. He doesn’t trust me, that much I can tell. I can’t fully trust him, either.

That doesn’t mean we can’t share a meal together.

I roll up the sleeves to my ribbed candy-red sweater and walk toward the kitchen, tossing a glance back over my shoulder. “Take your coat off and stay a while. I’m going to see what you have, and we’ll go from there.”

The sound of stunned silence behind me is deeply satisfying.

I reach the kitchen, which is also fashioned entirely out of wood, minus the appliances, and take stock. Given the surroundings, it’s surprisingly updated. The countertops are a dark shade of granite. The appliances are stainless steel.

Yes, this will do nicely. Provided there are edible options in here.

“I took you for the kind of guy who would kill a deer, skin it, then eat it over the course of several months. How is it that someone like you eats ramen?”

“How is it that someone like you is too good for it?”

Point to Lorn. I’m not about to give out any more information about myself, and apparently, neither is he. I leave that comment to hang in the air as I open the fridge. The light bulb flashes over a nearly empty space, though there are some fresh vegetables that still have some life left tucked in a bottom drawer.

“OK, these we can use.”

I wonder if he’s going to protest, tell me to get out of his kitchen and go brave the cold. When he doesn’t, I continue on, opening cabinets until I find a good variety of canned goods that, in a pinch, can be served up as a delicious meal.

“Can you open those cans for me?” I ask, pointing at a stack on the counter.

To my surprise, Lorn does as I ask. He moves in by my side, and we stand shoulder to shoulder as I dice vegetables and he opens cans. The place where his arm brushes against mine tingles. Somewhere between the living room and the kitchen, he removed his coat.

His arms are exposed by a black T-shirt, and they’re inked all the way down.

“Whoa, I didn’t expect you to be a tattoo kind of guy.”

“Apparently, you’ve had many expectations of me, none of which I’ve lived up to. Or perhaps you are simply small minded and made judgments based on preconceived notions of those who choose to live a quiet life in nature.”

I blink, unable to find a good retort to that.

“Well, uh. You like ramen.”

I sneak a glance up at him, and he smirks back down at me. He knows he won another point there. He’s talked circles around me since we met. I need to clear my head, but it’s impossible when those eyes are searing right through me.

I want to kiss him badly. He’s clearly intelligent and kind enough to save a stranded woman in the woods.

I wonder where else he has tattoos.

“All opened,” he says, and I’m forced back into reality. He gestures to the cans, and I reach for two packets of instant noodles. He lifts an eyebrow as I crack them open.

“And here I thought these were inferior.”

“On their own, yeah. Paired with the right food? Just watch.”

I set a small pot of water to boil, then place the noodles and seasoning inside. They soften instantly, as instant noodles do, and I turn on a pan and sear the vegetables, seasoning them with some salt and pepper I found in a closet.

All the while, Lorn hovers over me, watching. The scent of clean cotton and forest envelop me, and this is exactly how I imagined he would smell. So, not all my assumptions about him were wrong. He is beyond intoxicating. I remove the cooked food from the stovetop and look up to find his gaze exploring the contours of my face. I imagine his hands all over my body, and my skin prickles at the thought.

“S-see. This will taste much better.”

I can’t believe I just stuttered. Lorn doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he’s looking directly at my lips now. His head lowers until his lips are nearly touching mine, and I throw caution to the wind.

What the hell?

I rise on my tiptoes and meet him in the middle. My lips graze his as his arms tug me against his body, his tongue probing deeper, seeking more. I offer it freely, because it’s so good.

I’ve never dated men with beards. Generally, I’ve always liked clean-cut, clean-shaven guys. This is a whole new feeling, and I want to run my fingers through that hair, tug and pull it and make him go wild.

Lorn reaches behind me, and his large hands cup my entire backside as he squeezes my ass cheeks and presses me against his burgeoning erection.

I want more.

He lifts me as easy as a feather and sets me down on the kitchen counter, away from our food. He spreads my legs as far as my jeans will allow and wraps them around his waist. I lock my ankles together, and he tugs and licks my lips, exploring my mouth as I desperately cling to him, my body begging for more.

His hand rises up to cup my breast, and he massages me as my nipples grow hard against the thin fabric of my sweater. He kisses me silly all while stimulating my body, his fingertips flicking and rubbing one nipple, then the other. I’m ready to strip down naked and have sex with him on the couch, food be damned, when he steps back and leaves me cold, the space between us vast.

“I can’t do this.”

My body screams in protest, but it’s mingled with an intense shame. What must he think of me, that I would clearly jump into bed with a stranger? My cheeks grow hot as I contemplate this thought, but his expression is closed once again.

How could I be such an idiot?