Chapter Six – Sorcha
What a day! Sorcha could not recall the last time she’d had so much fun on an assignment.
Or when she’d had such wonderful company.
She glanced sideways at Christopher as they made their way back to the sanctuary entrance.
Something about this day felt different from any assignment she’d ever worked on.
The way he’d shown her his world, the mountains, and forests that he clearly loved, had stirred something in her that felt dangerously like longing.
“I should get some more pictures of the sanctuary entrance for the article,” she said, forcing her mind back to work mode. Her editor would expect plenty of visual content.
Christopher nodded, pulling the sleigh to a gentle stop near the main building. “Take all the time you need.”
After capturing several shots of the rustic sign and the snow-covered grounds, they said their goodbyes to Bob and headed back to the truck. The winter afternoon was already fading into early evening, the sky taking on that particular pearly glow that came before a winter sunset in the mountains.
As they drove away from the sanctuary, the gentle rocking of the truck, combined with the warmth of the heater and the emotional day, made her eyelids feel heavy. She stifled a yawn behind her hand.
Outside the windows, the winter landscape stretched out like something from a painting or a holiday card. Snow-dusted pines lined the winding road, their branches weighted with crystalline white. The mountains rose majestically in the distance, their peaks tinged pink with the approaching sunset.
Sorcha tried to think of something clever to say, but her usually quick mind felt sluggish with contentment. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, but it felt significant, as if they were both processing the day’s events in their own ways.
She glanced at Christopher’s profile. His jaw was set, eyes focused on the road, but there was tension around his mouth that hadn’t been there earlier. Was he simply tired? She suddenly remembered he’d worked the night shift before spending the entire day with her.
“Thanks for today,” Sorcha said as they drove along the back roads toward the cabins.
Christopher turned to her briefly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “It’s been my pleasure.”
The simple sincerity in his voice made her heart skip. He wasn’t just being polite. She could see in his eyes that he truly meant it.
“You must be exhausted,” she said, guilt niggling at her conscience. She’d been so wrapped up in her own experience that she hadn’t considered he might be running on empty.
He ran a hand over his face, the stubble on his jaw making a soft scratching sound against his palm. “I’m okay.”
“Are you working tonight?” she asked, then immediately winced.
The question had slipped out before she could consider how it might sound—as if she were fishing for information about his availability.
She didn’t want him to think she had ulterior motives, that she was expecting anything beyond the professional courtesy he’d already shown.
Even if platonic was the last thing she wanted.
“Yes,” he said with a nod. “So if you need anything, you know where I am.”
Sorcha nodded, then frowned as a new thought occurred to her. Her kitchen supplies were limited, and after all the outdoor activity, she was famished.
“Everything all right?” Christopher asked, his brow furrowing slightly. It was uncanny how he seemed to pick up on her changing moods.
“I should have stopped at the grocery store and grabbed some supplies,” she said, mentally cataloging what little food she’d seen in the cabin. “I should also thank you and say it’s a nice touch that there were some staples in the fridge and in the cupboards.”
His lips curved into a smile that made her stomach flutter. “We always try to keep the cabins stocked with the necessities, since the weather can be so unpredictable.”
“I appreciate it,” she replied, leaning forward to peer through the windshield at the road ahead. The snow wasn’t deep, but it was starting to freeze as evening approached. Could her car handle these conditions? “Maybe I could make it to town and back.”
Christopher’s hand tightened slightly on the steering wheel. “The roads get treacherous after dark when the temperature drops. The market closes at six, but…” He hesitated, then continued. “I could take you to my place instead. I was planning to make stew tonight…there’ll be plenty.”
The invitation hung in the air between them as Sorcha processed it and weighed up the pros and cons.
“I wouldn’t want to impose,” she said, though every fiber of her being wanted to scream yes.
“It’s not an imposition,” Christopher replied, keeping his eyes on the road. “I always make too much anyway.”
Sorcha bit her lower lip, considering. Accepting felt like crossing some invisible line, moving from professional acquaintance to something more personal. But the thought of returning to an empty cabin, heating something from a can, held no appeal after the magical day they’d shared.
“That sounds wonderful,” she said finally. “Thank you.”
His smile broadened, and she found herself grinning right back at him.
“Great. We can stop by your cabin first if you want to freshen up or drop off your things.”
Sorcha nodded, trying to ignore the flutter of anticipation in her stomach. It was just dinner, she reminded herself. A simple meal between two adults. Nothing more.
But as Christopher turned the truck onto the narrow road leading to Bear Creek Cabins, she couldn’t help wondering if anything about their connection could truly be called simple.
The truck slowed as they approached the cabin area. “I’ll wait here while you get whatever you need,” Christopher said, his voice soft in the dimming light.
“Thanks, I won’t be long.”
Sorcha hurried into the cabin, her mind racing as she closed the door behind her. What was she doing accepting a dinner invitation from a man she’d just met? This wasn’t like her at all. She was always professional on assignments, maintaining a careful distance from her sources.
But Christopher wasn’t just a source. He was…what, exactly?
She shook her head and moved to the bathroom, splashing cold water on her face. In the mirror, she hardly recognized the face looking back at her. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright despite the long day. She looked happy. When was the last time she’d seen that expression on her own face?
Sorcha quickly ran a brush through her hair, applied a touch of lipstick, and changed into a fresh sweater of a deep forest green that brought out the color in her eyes.
Professional but not too formal, she told herself, ignoring the flutter in her stomach that suggested this was more than a professional dinner.
Back in the truck five minutes later, she caught Christopher’s appreciative glance at her changed appearance before he quickly returned his eyes to the road.
“My place isn’t far,” he said as they pulled away from the cabins. “It’s just past the maintenance buildings.”
The truck turned down a narrow lane she hadn’t noticed before, winding through a stand of pines before emerging in a small clearing.
A cabin stood there, much larger than the rental units but with the same rustic charm.
Warm light spilled from the lights strung along the porch, making the snow around it glow golden.
A wreath of cedar and dried orange slices hung on the door, smelling faintly of winter spice.
“Home sweet home,” Christopher said, parking beside a woodpile nearly as tall as the cabin itself.
“It’s beautiful,” Sorcha said, meaning it. The cabin looked like it belonged there, nestled among the trees as if it had grown from the forest floor.
Christopher helped her from the truck, his hand steady under her elbow. The brief contact sent that now-familiar warmth through her arm, and she found herself leaning into his touch slightly before catching herself.
Inside, the cabin was everything she would have expected from Christopher—practical, comfortable, and meticulously maintained.
Furniture made of solid wood, that looked well-worn but well cared for, was arranged to take advantage of the warmth from the stone fireplace that dominated one wall.
Fairy lights traced the mantle; pinecones, and a few carved bears watched the room like friendly sentries.
“Make yourself comfortable,” Christopher said, taking her coat and hanging it beside his own on pegs near the door. “I’ll get the fire lit and then get the stew started.”
“Is there anything I can do?” Sorcha asked, but Christopher had already coaxed a small flame from the kindling in the fireplace.
“Nope, you’re my guest.” But the look he gave her said she was much more than that. “Make yourself at home.”
For a moment, she imagined that this was her home. That Christopher was her husband. And this was her life.
But then she looked away and focused on the bookshelf that lined one wall while Christopher finished adding wood to the fire and moved to the kitchen area.
She ran her fingers along the spines, noting the eclectic mix—wilderness survival guides beside poetry collections, repair manuals next to novels.
The books of a curious mind, someone interested in both practical skills and beautiful ideas.
“Would you like something to drink?” Christopher called from the kitchen. “I have wine, beer, or there’s always coffee or tea.”
“Wine would be lovely, thank you,” she replied, moving toward the kitchen to watch him work.
The kitchen was open to the living area, separated only by a rustic wooden island. Christopher moved with calm confidence in the space, chopping vegetables with practiced precision, adding them to a large pot that already contained browned meat.
“Can I help?” she asked, leaning against the island.
“You could open the wine,” he suggested, nodding toward a bottle on the counter. “Glasses are in that cabinet.”