Page 24 of Torin

I open my eyes to wood-paneled walls and sunlight, and for one disorienting second, I have no idea where I am.

Then I remember. Professor Bennett’s cabin.

Outside, a truck door slams.

I roll over and squint at the clock.

12:08.

“Holy shit.”

I throw back the blankets and hurry to the window. Through a narrow gap in the shutters, I see a truck parked in the clearing.

And Torin. He’s unloading a bunch of boxes from the back of his truck and carrying them to the porch, two at a time.

His dark hair is tied back today, showing off the strong line of his jaw, and his T-shirt stretches across shoulders that seem unnecessarily broad even for someone who spends part of his life as a grizzly bear. I watch his biceps flex as he reaches into the truck for another box, enjoying the view for several seconds before it occurs to me that if Torin looks like that in daylight, I should probably find out what I look like.

I duck away from the window.

Five minutes later, I’ve brushed my teeth, dragged a brush through my hair and changed back into last night’s jeans and T-shirt. It isn’t exactly how I’d choose to look the first time Torin sees me in daylight, but I can’t exactly pretend I’d just dashed out for something.

When I step outside, Torin is halfway up the porch steps carrying another box.

“Morning.”

Torin looks up and does a double take.

Oh, my hair. I run a hand through it self-consciously. “It was dyed. Before.”

His gaze moves over my curls, and a smile spreads across his face.

“This is your real color?”

“Yeah.”

“I like it.”

“You do?”

“Hell, yeah.”

Heat creeps into my cheeks.

He keeps looking at me as he comes up the steps, clearly pleased by what he sees.

“And how are you feeling?”

“Like I drove into a tree.”

His gaze travels over my face, lingering on my swollen nose and the bruise along my jaw. “You look better.”

“Wow, keep talking like that and you’ll sweep me off my feet.”

“I meant better than last night.”

“I know.”

“And you do.”