Chapter 6
Quinn
“So, I guess I should admit something.” He looks at me like I’m about to confess to not returning a library book on time. “What's that look for?”
He huffs a laugh. “Guess I just wonder what little Miss Red could have done wrong.”
I narrow my eyes on him. “Don’t you know redheads have tempers? You’d be mindful to be nice to me.”
Now he outright chuckles again, and the sound is growing on me.
Though he let his guard down by showing concern when he showed up here with supplies, I didn't expect to be sitting here with him, actually having a heart-to-heart. Luke is really good-looking. He took off his sweatshirt once we got everything secured, and his T-shirt underneath rose with it, showing off a toned stomach. His biceps were what women dream of holding onto. He kicked off his boots, and the fact that he’s in socks, walking around this small area, makes it all feel very intimate.
Get ahold of yourself, Quinn. You don’t know a damn thing about him.
“Anyway, I told you I'm a romance writer. But I’ve had such a string of bad luck with dating, I don't know if I’m actually any good at it anymore.”
“You are,” he says, without thinking.
I look at him, surprised. “You haven’t read anything I’ve written.”
“Nope. Don’t need to. I can tell.”
I grin to myself. “What about you? Why’d you come all the way up here?”
Luke stares into the flames. I almost think he won’t answer, but then he begins talking.
“I did four years in the Army. I didn't reenlist because my dad was sick, so I came home to take care of him. A few months later, he passed. I didn’t know what to do after that. I couldn’t sleep.
I couldn’t sit still. I thought maybe if I got far enough away from where I was, I’d figure out how to live again. ”
“And did you?”
He exhales. “I like the quiet up here, but it gets lonely.”
Silence settles around us before I reach over, tapping my mug to his. “Cheers to not being alone tonight.”
He doesn’t respond but doesn’t pull back either, which I consider a win. The fire crackles again, louder this time. I think it’s the wood shifting, but it also feels like the mood shifted in the room.
Luke doesn’t say a word; he just holds his mug close, fingers brushing the rim like he’s thinking hard about something he won’t say aloud. I wonder if he regrets saying anything at all. That kind of honesty with someone you don’t know can’t come easy.
I shift a little closer, careful not to make a big deal out of it. “It’s weird, isn’t it?” I say quietly. “How sitting quietly with some people comes easy.”
He glances at me, then drops his eyes again. “I don’t usually do this,” he says.
“What, talk?”
He huffs out a breath. “No, sit with someone like this.”
“Well,” I say, trying to keep my voice light, even though my heart is suddenly pounding a little harder, “lucky for you, I’m incredibly easy to be around.”
A ghost of a smirk plays on his lips. “That so?”
“Absolutely. I’m a writer. I listen and think of every way I can use your words later.”
He laughs. “Oh, great. Just what I want to hear.”
I shrug. “I need a romance resurrection, and you, mountain man, are giving it to me.”
He laughs, the sound coming more easily from him.
“Not sure that’s me, but you can try,” he says.
We fall into silence again, but it’s comforting. Outside, the wind rattles the edge of the roof, the trees groan in the distance, but inside, we’ve got a bigger storm brewing.