Chapter 12
AYLA
I work at cleaning, trying to chase away the memory of waking up snuggled against Oren's side on the couch. We'd talked for hours, even after he'd started a fire and we shared a blanket, neither of us ready to let the connection between us end.
When I came awake in the morning, warm and rested, it had felt so normal and natural.
Until I remembered it was Oren and worried that he might think it was weird.
He'd just grinned down at me, run a hand through his hair, and given me a squeeze with the arm that had wrapped around my waist while we slept.
Then he made breakfast and perfectly brewed coffee, made sure I ate as much as I wanted, and then loaded us up in his truck.
He'd been working on the door since we got here and I made myself as helpful as possible.
The physical work was a good distraction because without it, I'd be drooling over the man every time he moved.
The continual influx of people coming and going throughout the day has helped.
Gloria showed up first, bags of fabric in her SUV, which she insisted I go through with her.
Choosing what I liked best, so she could reupholster what had been damaged.
Then there was David and his two young boys, working on the gouged floorboards, which I hadn't even noticed until they pointed them out.
Mabel and her husband, Irvin, delivered lunch and fresh drinks, and I'd lost count of the people after that.
It was proof that what Oren had told me the night before was true. This was a place where everyone looked out for each other. Without any expectation of repayment, just the knowledge that their neighbors would do the same for them if it was ever needed.
Gloria had said it best when I worried out loud that I wouldn't be able to pay her up front for her time and effort.
"Get that out of your mind right now. Nobody survives on this mountain alone. Even big burly hunks like that lumberjack out there need someone."
And that big burly hunk of a lumberjack was making me feels things I wasn't prepared for. Not even a little bit.
Especially when I turned around to find him watching me, his arm braced over his head on the jamb, looking strong, capable, and very, very hot.
My knees feel watery at the intense look on his face and I wonder what he's thinking.
Because what I was thinking was beyond filthy. Very dirty. And yet, oh so good.
"Ready to go home?" The way his voice lingers over that last word with caressing emphasis makes my heart flutter.
I look around the living room of the cabin.
There's more to do than I expected, yet I'm more hopeful than I was when we got here this morning.
It's a lot of work, but it doesn't feel insurmountable any more.
The determination I'd felt before shifts into something new.
Belief. I believe this can be done. That I can do this.
Maybe not alone. Maybe I'll need some help.
But I can do this.
"Sure," I say, giving one last look around. "Let's go home."