Chapter 7
Cassidy
Karina’s clothes fit surprisingly well. Forest’s wife was a curvy woman like me, and she’d sent over a generous bag of items she said she never wore anymore. Karina might have been a tad smaller than me, but I could still zip everything up.
She’d given me jeans that hugged my hips and soft sweaters in warm colors. Even a few pairs of underwear with the tags still on.
“She went a little overboard,” Hall had muttered when he’d handed me the bag, his ears turning pink over the frilly panties visible at the top.
But I’d nearly cried with gratitude. Having real clothes made me feel human again, and less like a disaster victim.
Now I stood in Hall’s kitchen, surveying the space with fresh eyes.
The cabin was cozy, but it was obvious a man had lived here alone for too long. There was dust on the windowsills, and the floor was in desperate need of a mopping.
I couldn’t help myself. I started cleaning.
“What are you doing?” Hall appeared in the doorway, his brow furrowed.
“Just tidying up a bit.” I wiped down the counter with a rag I’d found. “It’s the least I can do.”
“You’re a guest here.” He crossed his arms over his broad chest. “You’ve been through too much. I didn’t drag you up this mountain to be my maid.”
The words were on the tip of my tongue. Then what did you drag me up here for?
But I held them back. Instead, I just smiled at him and announced, “I like to stay busy. It helps me not think about… everything else.”
Something softened in his expression.
“Fine,” Hall grumbled. “But don’t think I expect this.”
After lunch, he went outside to the woodpile. I watched him chop from the window, admiring his form. The man made primitive living look very attractive.
But after thirty minutes of my window snooping, I needed a closer look, so I wandered outside and watched him work.
He almost looked startled when he noticed me there, and his swing hit off-kilter. The log he was trying to split fell on its side.
Then he gave me a shy smile. It was the first smile I’d seen on his lips, and it looked good on him.
I wonder what his life is like when no one else is around. Is this what his day would look like?
Quietly he grunted out, “Do you want to learn how?”
“How to chop wood?”
Hall shrugged a shoulder. “Yeah.”
Somehow he made it seem like an enticing invitation. Me, who’d never chopped wood a day in my life, happily took the axe from his hands, relishing the moment when our fingers collided together.
The axe was heavier than I expected. I gripped the handle awkwardly, trying to remember if I’d ever seen anyone split wood in real life or just in movies.
“Not like that.” Hall moved behind me, and suddenly his chest was against my back, his arms reaching around to adjust my grip. “Hands here. And here.”
I let out a little gasp of surprise, and he stepped back so we weren’t touching. “Too much?”
“No. Not at all. How else can I learn?”
That made him step in again until his body skimmed mine. My pulse sped up and I could hardly focus on the axe in my hands. Everything in me was attuned to the man at my back.
He was nothing like my ex.
Taller, broader, stronger, wilder.
Hall was made of the woods, whereas Rodney had been a lazy fuck who had hardly wanted to mow the lawn. We’d had fights over that before he ended it with me. Not that those were our only fights.
His big fingers wrapped around mine, repositioning them on the handle. His palms were rough with calluses, and I just wanted to drop the axe and lean back into his arms.
“Wider stance,” he murmured near my ear. Then his boot nudged my feet apart. “You want a solid base.”
My heart was pounding so hard I was sure he could feel it. Every cell in my body had come alive the second he’d touched me. I barely knew this man, but my body didn’t seem to care about logic.
“Now.” His breath was warm against my neck. “Lift it up and bring it down in one smooth motion. Let the weight of the axe do the work.”
He guided my arms up, then down. The axe bit into the log with a satisfying thunk, splitting it cleanly in two. “I did it!”
“You sure did,” Hall said, his voice rougher than before. He stepped back quickly, putting distance between us. “Do it again.”
I missed the warmth of him immediately. But I lifted the axe and tried again, grateful for something to focus on besides the way my skin was tingling.
By the time we’d worked through a dozen logs, I was sweating and laughing at my own clumsiness. Hall watched me with something that looked almost like wonder in his eyes, though he tried to hide it behind his usual stoic expression.
“You’re a natural,” he joked.
“Liar,” I grinned at him. “But thank you for teaching me. It feels good to do something physical. It helps get my mind off things.”
His gaze held mine for a beat too long. Then he looked away, clearing his throat. “We should get dinner started.”
I burned the pasta.
“I swear I know how to cook,” I waved smoke away from the stove while Hall calmly took over, dumping the blackened mess and starting fresh.
“I just got distracted talking about Hannah. She comes into work every Monday with a new complaint about her neighbor’s dog, and I can’t get her to leave my desk until the phone rings.
But really, she just wants someone to chat with.
She’s lonely, you know? Her husband passed away two years ago, and her kids live in California.
So I always make time for her, even when we’re busy, because sometimes people just need someone to listen to them. ”
Hall made a sound that might have been agreement. I’d already noticed he wasn’t much of a talker, so I had to hold up his end a bit.
He moved around me in the small kitchen, reaching past me for the olive oil, his arm brushing mine. I lost my train of thought completely.
“Anyway,” I managed to say, “she’s sweet. I like my job. The people in Fernwood have been so welcoming.”
“You talk a lot,” Hall said. But there was no criticism in his tone. If anything, he sounded almost… fond.
“Nervous habit, sorry.” I accidentally bumped his hip with mine as I moved to set the table, suddenly embarrassed. I was too wide and always bumping into people and furniture. And I knew damn well I talked too much. “Does it bother you?”
“No.” He glanced at me over his shoulder, and something warm flickered in his eyes. “I like it.”
A few minutes later he produced a finished meal that actually resembled something a person might want to eat.
And when we tucked into it, I realized the man could cook. “You’ve been hiding your skillset, Hall. Why didn’t you tell me you’re a gourmet cook?”
He snorted. “I’m not. It’s just pasta with a little sauce and some ground beef.”
Maybe, but it tasted different from what I normally served myself, as though the flavors blended differently under his touch. “Maybe you could teach me how to cook, too.” Glancing at him shyly, I added, “I’ve never been great in the kitchen.”
An unexpected laugh barked out of him, and he blurted out, “Maybe we need to keep you out of kitchens. First you burn yours down. Then you tried to burn mine down, too.”
There was mirth in his eyes, and I felt like that might have been the first unguarded thing he’d said to me.
I raised my eyebrows playfully, “If you think I’m scary in the kitchen, you should see what I can do to a bedroom.”
That stole the man’s words right out of his mouth.
His jaw worked, but nothing came out, and I swear a light flush landed on his cheeks.
Could a big, strong mountain man like this blush over a little joke like that? Maybe. I was learning more about Hall the longer I spent with him. And so far, I liked everything I’d seen.
Watching him get flustered excited me, as though I was causing this effect in him. Could it be possible? I eyed him carefully, but the man was back to being like a stone wall. I could tell there was a lot going on under the surface, but he kept what he was feeling hidden deep inside him.
I wonder what other people see when they look at him.
He was the quintessential wilderness man. A man who could make things happen. But did people see the quiet side of Hall, the side he hid from the world? I wanted just one glimpse of what was going on in his mind right now.
After dinner, we sat on the back deck, sharing a Kit-Kat bar as the sun painted the sky in shades of orange and pink.
“Is this your nightly ritual?” I asked, breaking off a piece of chocolate. “A Kit-Kat bar after dinner and a little bit of stargazing?”
“Something like that.”
I nodded toward the telescope set up at the edge of the deck. “That looks like a nice one. You must really love astronomy.”
Hall went very still beside me. “It’s just a hobby.”
“What do you look at? Planets? Constellations?”
“Whatever’s interesting.” He took a bite of his Kit-Kat, not meeting my eyes. “Stars. The moon. The valley.”
“The valley?” I turned to look at him, curious. “What’s interesting about the valley?”
For a long moment, he didn’t answer. I watched his jaw work, like he was wrestling with something. Then he just shook his head.
“Nothing. Just… checking on things. Making sure everything’s quiet down there.”
There was something he wasn’t telling me. I could feel it. But I didn’t push. We all had our secrets, and he was entitled to keep his private.