Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Lily needed to move.
She’d been cooped up in the cabin all day.
Rush had spent most of the day outside, chopping firewood, shoveling snow, and keeping himself busy with whatever mountain men did.
He’d come in only to warm up with a cup of coffee, his jaw tight, his words clipped, before heading right back out again with Riggs.
Clearly his energy needed an outlet, preferably one that didn’t involve being stuck inside with her.
She tried not to be offended. She didn’t know the man after all, but after last night, she’d thought maybe they had gotten to know each other a little bit while sharing body heat.
And then there was that raging erection of his in the shower…
She was certain that wasn’t him ignoring her.
Mentally, she shrugged. Clearly, she wasn’t an expert about men.
She’d spent the morning tidying the cabin as best she could—folding blankets, straightening the bed, even wiping down the kitchen counter despite the fact that nothing was dirty. It gave her something to do besides focusing on what life would look like when she finally went back home.
She poked around the cabinets and found more cans of soup and crackers, but she wasn’t hungry yet.
There were a few books and a chess set, a deck of cards, and a puzzle in a cabinet.
She had grabbed a thriller to read for a few hours, but it only made her more anxious, along with the soulless eyes of the deer following her around.
Finally, in a burst of rebellion and maybe a little passive-aggressiveness, she’d tossed her merry widow over the buck’s head.
Later in the afternoon, she caught a glimpse of Rush through the window.
The snow was still coming down as the sun dipped lower in the sky.
It was gentler now, soft, thick flakes settling on top of the three feet already on the ground.
He was splitting logs next to a shed—she could almost see the aura of tight, controlled energy rolling off him in short, sharp waves.
His broad shoulders strained the jacket he wore, his collar turned up against the wind, and his dark hair was covered in a baseball cap.
Guiltily, she remembered his warm beanie was still damp from when he gave it to her to wear.
In the distance, Riggs bounded over the drifts between trees, blissfully unaware of the surrounding tension.
Lily exhaled, pressing a hand to her chest to find the warm quartz.
She always reached for it when her emotions felt too big and she needed peace.
The warm, homey energy from the night before was gone, replaced by something heavier that left her unsettled.
When she’d woken up this morning, the first thing she’d felt, aside from Rush’s solid brick of a body, was contentment.
The realization had unsettled her. She’d spent years convincing herself that she and Tucker were meant to be, that she could make herself happy with him, that he was the safe and logical choice. So why wasn’t she shattered right now to see that dream go up in flames?
If anything, she felt relieved. Lighter. Like she’d dodged a bullet instead of taking one to the chest.
The answer hovered at the edge of her mind, but she let it float there until she was ready to face it. Right now, she needed to shake off this bad energy and step outside, breathe in the cold, and let the snow clear her head.
After helping herself to Rush’s hoodie to layer over his soft flannel shirt, she dug around in a basket near the door and found an old pair of waders a few sizes too big. They'd have to do. She stepped off the porch and immediately sank up to her knees in snow.
“Oh, fantastic,” she muttered, stumbling forward as the snow immediately packed into her boots. It was worth it, though, when she looked up.
The world outside the cabin was an untouched carpet of white.
The tall pine trees stood frozen beneath the weight of heavy snow, their branches sagging under a thick layer of ice.
The sky, steel gray and endless on the mountain, was thick and heavy with the promise of more snow to come. A perfect, peaceful frozen wonderland.
Lily closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. I am a still lake. She exhaled slowly, releasing some of the weight pressing into her chest. She could almost feel herself realigning and calming, letting the nervous energy of the last few weeks sink into the earth and dissolve away.
Behind her, an axe struck wood with a solid, rhythmic crack echoing through the air. She turned in the opposite direction.
She didn’t want to bother him—she could take a hint—but at least out here, she could breathe. She’d just keep to the other side of the cabin and not disturb him while she centered herself.
Lily planted her boots firmly in the snow, lifted her chin, and closed her eyes, settling into the silence, inhaling again with a palm to her chest and counted. In… one, two, three… out, one, two, three…
There. Lily opened her eyes, calm and centered once more.
And met the sharp, assessing gaze of a big black-and-tan dog.
She shrieked, stumbling back before catching herself, then looked around, feeling silly yet again. Get it together, Lily. She scanned the area again, but Riggs didn’t move, merely stared at her with what she imagined were faintly dismissive eyes.
A spark of stubbornness flared to life.
“So, you’re ignoring me too?” she called, shaking her head in disgust. “Figures. Just like your grumpy owner.”
The massive dog took a single step toward her, and she started to back up automatically, almost like muscle memory, before catching herself. No, she wasn’t going to let this dog intimidate her, dammit.
A fresh wave of frustration made Lily’s heart pound. It wasn’t that she was afraid of dogs—she loved dogs, actually—but she didn’t like being dismissed. Heat rushed to her face. The peace and stillness she’d just felt shattered, and frustration boiled over.
She spotted a fallen branch and shook the snow free, hyping herself up. All dogs like fetch, right? Maybe not Amber’s dog, Puddin’. She wasn’t much for movement, but Allie had a golden retriever who thought playing fetch was the best thing on earth.
She waved the stick a little. “Here, scary dog. Come on, big guy,” she coaxed, taking a hesitant step forward. “I know you want to play.” Please don’t eat me, Cujo.
Riggs stared at her, unmoved. Unimpressed.
Lily gave the stick another enticing shake. “I know you’re a big scary military dog and very dignified, but this is a very nice stick.”
Nothing.
He really is Rush’s dog.
She huffed out a breath. “Okay, fine. Fetch!” She tossed the stick a few feet away, hoping that might do the trick.
Riggs didn’t even flick an ear. Just sat there, rock-solid and motionless, as if the stick—and she—didn’t exist.
Lily’s hands landed on her hips. A slow burn of irritation, years in the making, set in. It wasn’t just the dog. It was Rush and his coldness this morning. It was Tucker. Angela.
It was the fact that she’d almost deluded herself one more time that she could be happy with him.
And now this damn dog was treating her like she didn’t exist either?
No.
Nope.
She straightened her spine, inhaled deeply, stalked toward the stick and picked it up. Narrowing her eyes, she walked to Riggs like she meant business.
Riggs’s pointed ears flicked forward just slightly, like he was finally registering her existence. But instead of waiting for her to throw the stick again, his jaws opened, and he clamped down on the stick in her hand possessively.
He growled, sounding scary and maybe a little hungry, and tugged.
Lily froze, her instincts warning her to back off slowly. Do not challenge Cujo.
But then Rush’s voice from last night echoed in her head.
He’d probably settle for a firm command and not acting like you’re scared of him.
And that pissed her off. She wasn’t scared. She was cautious. Riggs just needed to see her as the boss.
Lily took a deep, cleansing breath, and lowered her voice in her best imitation of Rush’s deep, no-nonsense command. “Drop it.”
Riggs didn’t move.
Fine.
Some instinct inside of her knew she had to win this one, come hell or high water.
She squared her feet and projected as much calm, authoritative energy as she could summon.
“Drop it.”
The tension stretched, silent and heavy, as Riggs’s sharp black eyes seemed to assess her and find her wanting.
Seconds passed.
Then finally he released the stick.
It worked! She whooped and jumped in the air. “Good boy. You’re the goodest boy, aren’t you?”
Feeling victorious, she leaned down to give him a well-deserved pat. Riggs growled, and she snapped her hand back so fast she nearly dislocated her shoulder.
Riggs gave her a long, unimpressed stare. She cleared her throat, crossed her arms, and summoned Rush’s no-nonsense presence.
Riggs’s tail moved the tiniest wave, and he nudged the stick toward her the tiniest bit then sat back to watch her next move.
“We’ll get there,” she muttered under her breath, “Eventually. Probably.”
She threw the stick as far as she could into the woods, and Riggs took off like a shot out of a cannon, bounding through the snow with pure, reckless enthusiasm.
Watching him, something shifted in the air.
Lily’s shoulders relaxed, and she smiled at the sheer enthusiasm of the dog.
It was almost as if he had been dying to play the entire time; he’d just wanted to make sure she was worth the effort.
She grinned. Hell yes.
Riggs bounded back, stick triumphantly lopsided in his mouth, and impulsively she scooped up a ball of snow and threw it at him.
He jumped up to catch it, jaws opened wide, showing all those pointy teeth. He landed, looking briefly offended, then pure joy lit his doggy face as he charged straight at her.
“Oh. No. No, no, no.”
She shrieked just as he leaped, knocking her flat into the snow.
“Riggs! Off!”