Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3
“ I s this your home?” Theodore stared at a certifiable log cabin. Stone chimney and stacked log walls, it was the kind of old-timey, single-room structure you’d expect to see on the front of a maple syrup bottle. Or a Bob Ross painting.
The mysterious horsewoman named Ardruina nodded as she helped him out of the saddle, her leather-gloved hands enclosed around his waist, steadying him as he swung down. No sooner than his feet touched the ground did she let go, stepping away, and his chest twinged at the loss, a brief and silly spark of romantic hope smothered.
There was no reason for Ardruina to linger. No reason for Theodore to be disappointed by the newfound distance between them. And yet, without the steady feel of her, pressed up behind him, directing the horse with each flex of her sturdy legs, he felt two sizes too small in his own skin.
Then she met his eyes and smiled. It was all at once bright and reassuring, like she might be just as glad to have his company as he was to have hers. Warmth filled Theodore from the inside out, and just like that, everything fit again.
“We can go inside after we’ve washed up.”
He swiped a hand down his front, a clump of mud falling away. “Good idea.”
The horse would need tending to, but when he turned to help, it was gone.
“Um.”
He scanned the trees, searching for its white hide in the fog, but the creature had vanished without a trace, quiet as a ghost. Not even hoofprints marked the dirt where it had stood.
Ardruina clapped a hand against his back. “Come on. Don’t worry about Lady Crane. She’ll return in the morning.”
Strange . But if she wasn’t worrying about the horse, neither would he.
Theodore followed Ardruina around the cabin to where there was a steaming hot spring and a small storage shack.
“Go ahead. Strip down and hop in. I’ll bring soap and towels.” Ardruina opened the shack door and disappeared inside.
The waders took the brunt of the mess, so by the time he peeled off all his layers, naked but for his glasses, he was just a shivering slip of cold, pale flesh, streaked with mud.
Casting nervous glances at the partially open door, he eased himself into the hot spring, feeling out the bottom with his feet. He couldn’t help but exhale a sigh of relief as the heat seeped into his limbs. Cold bits shrinking up into his body? Not his best look. And not the first impression he wanted this gloriously jacked woman to have about his naked physique.
Setting his glasses aside, Theodore vigorously scrubbed mud off his face and out of his hair, wanting to look a little more presentable when Ardruina returned. For no other reason than he was wildly attracted to her, and if she bestowed upon him an ounce of attention, he’d die a happy man.
By the time Ardruina exited the shack, carrying a stack of towels and two bars of soap, he was lounging in the spring, arms spread wide, and only slightly squinting. Overall, he was going for cool but would settle on relaxed.
“Where’s your glasses?”
He lifted them to his face, clear one moment, fogging the next. But in that split second, he noticed that the mud stains he left on her clothes were gone. She must’ve cleaned up while inside the shack.
“They don’t do me a lot of good in here.” He shrugged, affecting a carefree grin. That sounded smooth, right?
Nodding firmly, Ardruina strode toward him, and he jolted at her sudden, rapid approach, covering his junk with a startled splash. Shit. Shit. Shit. While the steam provided a little cover, the water itself was clear, and modesty prevailed over the cool bastard act.
A small smirk lifted the corner of her lips as she set a towel and soap bar beside him. She bent so close he could tilt her face and bring those plush, purple lips to his, if he dared to do such a thing. But dare, he didn’t.
“Thank you.” His voice came out a little breathless.
“Mind if I join you?”
He gulped, cupping himself tighter. Without his glasses, he wouldn’t see much. That had to count for something. “I don’t mind.”
Everything would’ve been fine if she moved to the other side of the spring, but as brazen as a wood nymph, she yanked off her boots right beside him. Then her coat. Then her gloves. Then, oh God, her shirt and trousers.
Bare as can be, she slid in next to him, divested of everything except that pretty green bow around her neck. Tilting her head back with a soft moan, she asked, “Isn’t this nice?”
He bit the inside of his cheek to keep his thoughts respectful. To not think about the sleek, rippling muscle and sheer power beside him. Or that she could crush his windpipe with a single hand, and he’d thank her for the privilege of her touch. “Mhmm.”
Folding her arms behind her head, a motion that did nothing to obscure her chest, she cracked open one eye. “You have enough room over there?”
His cheeks were on fire, and dear God, he hoped she thought it was the steam. “Plenty.” Too much. Too little.
“Good.” She smiled and closed her eye. “We can go back for your tools in the morning if you want. Finish the job you started. Just thought you might want to rest.”
After almost drowning in mud.
“You’d do that?”
“Protect the bog? Absolutely.”
“What I’m doing is illegal.”
She shrugged. “Draining the bog should be, too.”
That was why delaying development was so important—to buy enough time for a key bill to pass that would block the project altogether. But once construction was further underway, it would be too little too late.
Peatlands like Dead Man’s Hollow were essential terrestrial ecosystems, mitigating climate change and stabilizing the carbon cycle. Even though the known ones only covered about three percent of the world’s land surface, they stored at least two times more carbon than all the standing forests combined.
Leon Marks could not, and would not, succeed. Not if Theodore could help it.
“I don’t want to get you into trouble.”
“You don’t need to worry about that.” Her tone was too serious to be a simple, reassuring platitude. When she said, “I’m the trouble that finds people,” he believed her.