Page 24

“Thanks.”

The tension grows between us, and I can’t tell if it’s good or bad.

I use my arm as cover, hoping he doesn’t notice me as I watch him take off his long black coat. It’s soaked as he hangs it up on the coat rack. He tilts his head forward, and more water swims through the curve of his hat, adding to the puddle on the floor.

I swallow, my cheeks heating, blood flowing south as I take him in. His shirt sticks to his body, showing every curve of every muscle he’s worked for on this ranch. He has a broad chest, biceps that bulge the sleeves, and don’t even get me started on his lips.

Why am I looking at his mouth? Why am I noticing how full and pink they are?

He tilts his head back, sniffing the air, his bright eyes landing on me.

Weird. Do I smell? I bend down and sniff, then rear back when I scent myself.

“I’m sorry. I need to shower. I just need something to eat and drink first.”

He bends down to untie his boots. “I don’t mind your smell. That’s not…never mind.” He clears his throat. “You should sit down. I’ll make you a sandwich. You need to rest.”

I manage to pull my eyes away from Alaska and keep my attention on the task at hand.

“I’m fine. I’m actually feeling pretty good considering the circumstances.” I snag a simple green mug that looks like it’s from another time and set it on the counter. “I still find it hard to believe I didn’t get injured. I’m sore, though.”

He nods, his expression tight with concern. “You got lucky. For sure.”

“Nothing else happened? Were you able to see why I wasn’t injured?”

He doesn’t look at me, keeping his attention locked on taking off each boot. “Nope.”

I wait for more of an explanation. The more seconds that pass without another word is when I realize I’m not going to get one from him. Soren’s words come back to me about being patient with him.

“Well, that was very informative, Alaska. Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome,” he grunts. “Are you sure you’re okay here? You don’t need anything? I’m going to take a shower.”

“Nope,” I repeat, popping the p to add more finality to my statement.

“Great. Have a good night.” His socks squelch as he strolls down the hallway.

A man of few words.

I watch him walk, noticing his sculpted back, the way his spine curves, the way his dimples show with how low his jeans are slung on his hips. That wet shirt really is showing me everything, and I couldn’t be more thankful.

Shaking my head of the thoughts, I flip the kettle on and get to work on making a sandwich.

Of course, the thoughts don’t leave. They stay on Alaska, his body, his voice, his eyes.

And he consumes me.

It scares me. I need to get out of here.

My palms are pressed flat against the shower wall. The hot water sprays against my back, my muscles tense with stress. My claws dig into the tile, cracking the ceramic in half as I do my best to control myself.

Thoughts of him consume every inch of my mind.

I felt his eyes on me when I was in the pasture. His gaze was like a lasso wrapping around me, tugging me forward to be close to him. It worked. I stopped everything I was doing to come inside the house to be near Leo.

I had planned to work all night. I didn’t want to be around him. I don’t know how to be around him. I don’t know what to say or do. All I have is how he makes me feel when he is close.

And I haven’t allowed myself to feel anything in nearly two centuries.