Page 67 of Beastly Mountain Man

She pulled on the shirt.

It swallowed her.

The sleeves covered part of her hands, and the hem fell well past her hips.

Caprice raised both arms.

“This one has definitely not been shrunk.”

“No.”

“I can tell.”

“You want something smaller?”

She lowered her arms.

“No. I like this.”

I changed into dry sweats and a T-shirt.

When I came back out, Caprice was standing near the family photographs again.

Bear had finished eating and lay sprawled beside the woodstove.

Caprice ran her fingers lightly over the hem of my shirt.

“I understand why you like it here.”

“My house?”

“Your life.”

The words went through me slowly.

She looked around again.

“Not because it’s simple. It isn’t. You have a job that turns weather into hours of work, a family close enough to fill half a shelf, a dog with a criminal record, and enough kitchen equipment to frighten me.”

Bear’s tail moved once.

Caprice smiled at him.

“But it fits you.”

For a second, I couldn’t think of a better answer than the truth.

“I like that you see that.”

Her gaze came back to mine.

“I like seeing it.”

We stayed there quietly until Caprice yawned.

She covered it too late.

I smiled.