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The front door opens an hour later, bringing cold air and Rhett Maddox back into the cabin in one massive, intimidating package. Snow dusts his shoulders and dark hair while his thermal shirt stretches tight across his chest from hauling equipment through waist-deep drifts all morning.
The man looks aggressively masculine before coffee.
It’s honestly rude.
His eyes find mine immediately.
Always immediately.
“What?” he asks.
I blink. “What do you mean what?”
“You’re thinking too hard.”
Damn him.
Rhett kicks the door shut behind him and sets down his gear near the fireplace before stalking toward me slowly. The closer he gets, the more aware I become of the fact that I’m hiding something from him for the first time since this whole mess started.
And apparently guilt has a physical temperature because suddenly I’m overheating.
“You’re staring again,” he says.
“You keep walking around looking like a lumberjack fantasy novel.”
His mouth twitches slightly. “That supposed to distract me?”
“Is it working?”
“No.”
Liar.
Rhett stops directly in front of me, bracing one hand against the kitchen counter beside my hip. Too close. Way too close for a man who notices every tiny shift in my expression.
“You’re nervous,” he says quietly.
“I’m caffeinated.”
“Same thing with you sometimes.”
God.
I hate how easily he reads me now.
Rhett’s gaze drifts slowly over my face, sharp and focused enough that my stomach tightens. “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Nora.”
The warning in my name sends heat skimming down my spine instantly.
Not fear.
Awareness.
Because I know exactly how this goes when Rhett decides he wants the truth out of me.
