Chapter 9 Cam #2
“Thanks for breakfast. It’s terrific,” he said when she sat across the table with her plate of pancakes.
She sat with one knee up, leaning back in her chair as if to maintain an extra foot of distance.
Like him, she rolled her pancake, but unlike him, she used cutlery to eat.
When she finished her first, she swiped an extra glob of jam off her plate.
He couldn’t take his eyes off her when she licked her finger to get the last iota.
Not wanting to make her uncomfortable, he was careful not to be obvious as his gaze lingered.
Now that he was feeling better, he couldn’t help but notice Lissa was sexy as fuck, with unblemished skin, full red lips, and those amazing eyes.
They weren’t the standard brown or hazel.
Amber or whiskey were the closest comparisons.
Plus, something about seeing the bones where her collarbones met in front and the knobs by her wrists turned him on.
While slim and petite, she still had subtle curves, so she must eat okay.
She took care of herself. He didn’t say anything else until she finished, just went back to eating the delicious meal.
A few times, he felt the warm, prickly sensation of being watched, but kept his eyes down for her inspection. Maybe she wasn’t sure what to make of him, either.
“What would you be doing this morning if I hadn’t woken you up early and barged in?” He kept his voice low, so she wasn’t startled.
Her head jerked up. Perhaps he was mistaken, and she’d forgotten about him for her own thoughts.
Her gaze met his. “The blizzard limits my options. Probably lose myself in a book or two. Maybe crochet. Make soup for dinner.” She’d done well to find supplies to occupy her quiet time.
Trapped inside with a fractured foot and nothing to do, Cam might climb the walls. He’d finished his book three times since leaving home. “Do you have something I can read? Mine’s done.” Reading was all he’d been able to do for the last three days.
She waved her hands toward her bookshelf, packed chock-full of battered paperbacks.
Something else she must have scavenged a few at a time, as books were heavy.
Foresight must have gone into her collection, another sign she wasn’t just surviving, but thriving.
“What do you like? Historical fiction, romance, thrillers? I’ll grab something so you can sit. ”
“I’ll read whatever. Surprise me,” he said. Anything different would be great. While he loved The Lord of the Rings, he needed a change.
A twinkle appeared in her amber eyes, though the countenance of her face remained the same.
Her expressions were there, just understated.
He had to watch closely to see minute changes.
Except when she blushed. That was obvious.
If she’d always been like this, she might have been difficult to get to know.
Or perhaps she was closed off from living alone.
Time would tell. A powerful urge to get to know her better swept over him.
Only then could he batter down her reserve to see the side of her she kept private.
If Cam had money, he’d bet she would give him a romance, given her amusement.
“Why don’t you get settled on the couch?” She waved to the large sectional at the side of the room. A double-thick deck of cards and a pile of yarn sat beside the near end on an end table.
Cam hopped to the couch and sat at the far end, facing into the room. With his leg stretched out in front of him, there was still room for her to sit near her belongings.
“Try this,” she said, handing him a colorful book. Book Lovers by Emily Henry.
“Thank you,” he said, trying not to smile at having called the genre. He started reading, becoming engrossed in the clever writing. Big-city woman stuck in a small town and not loving it. He liked a good romance and twisted trope as much as the next man, especially if it had sexy bits.
After washing the dishes and packing the griddle, Lissa collected her yarn and relocated to her bed.
He watched, obsessing over her collarbones again as she straightened the covers, then sat cross-legged on the turquoise flowered duvet cover.
For over an hour, she crocheted, her delicate wrists mesmerizing as she churned out several rows on whatever she was making. Perhaps another blanket.
At some point, Cam nodded off.
When he awoke, Lissa had tucked a blanket around him, but she wasn’t in the room.
He stretched and yawned before making his way into the bathroom to use the facilities.
When he hopped back, he noticed his water had been refilled while he’d slept and sat on the end table beside the bookmarked novel he’d been reading.
He inhaled. Something delicious-smelling was cooking over the ever-present fire.
He lifted the lid to peek. Chicken broth.
Maybe soup. While he wanted to investigate everything in her room and see what else she had, it felt too nosy and intrusive.
Her place, though smaller than his bunker, had things that reflected her personality: bright colors, craft items, and stacks of books.
He wouldn’t appreciate someone poking through his belongings, so he refrained and returned to the couch.
It was enough of a show of confidence that she’d left him alone in her home. A glance toward the corner revealed the shotgun was gone again—trusting but not foolhardy. An attitude he respected. He was a stranger. Her skepticism was probably why she was still alive.