Chapter 9
Hannah
Iwrap my towel around my shoulders, and gradually the shivering stops.
Torin comes up beside me with his towel secured around his waist.
I make the mistake of looking. His skin is still wet, droplets running down his chest and over his stomach before disappearing beneath the towel. My gaze lingers there a second too long.
“Want to come back to the lodge?” he asks.
My eyes snap to his face. “What?”
He smiles, and I know perfectly well he caught me staring.
“I thought we could hang out for a while. Get something to drink.”
I look toward the lake, then back at him. I should probably go back to the cabin. I don’t particularly want to.
“Okay.”
His smile broadens. “Okay.”
“I need to put some clothes on first.”
“You do?”
I give him a look.
He laughs and heads for the truck while I pull my T-shirt and shorts over the wet bikini. We climb in, and Torin starts the engine.
“You have your laptop with you?” he asks after a while.
“No. It’s at the cabin.”
“We can swing by and get it if you want. You can use the Wi-Fi at the lodge.”
I hesitate.
I should probably say yes.
“No,” I say. “It can wait.”
Torin glances at me. “You sure?”
“Yeah. Tomorrow.”
He nods and leaves it at that.
I settle back against the seat, letting the air blow through my damp hair.
By the time we reach the lodge, my shorts are sticking unpleasantly to the backs of my legs, and I’m regretting pulling them on over a wet swimsuit.
Torin pulls up beside the house and kills the engine.
“You know, this place is kind of cozy for a bear lodge,” I say as we get out.
He grins. “Alexandria can take some of the credit. Before she moved in, it was a losing battle with the other two.”
“Really?” I say, thinking of Orson in the loincloth.
“Yup. The place had been abandoned when we found it. There was no electricity, no hot water.”
I blink. “And how long did you live like that?”
“Couple years.”
“Two years without hot water?” I stare at him, but he looks genuinely unconcerned. “Why didn’t you get it fixed?”
Torin shrugs. “Had other things to worry about.”
“Such as?”
“Surviving.”
He says it lightly, but something in his face makes me look at him again.
There’s that long story.
I could ask. I want to. But Torin didn’t push me this morning when I told him my own life was complicated, and suddenly doing it to him feels wrong.
So, I leave it alone.
“Okay,” I say. “So, I guess hot showers are pretty special around here.”
His grin comes back. “You haven’t seen the best part yet.”
Instead of heading inside, he leads me around the side of the lodge.
Out back, a broad stone terrace runs almost the length of the house. Deep couches and armchairs are grouped around a circular fire pit. At the far end, a long wooden table sits beneath a timber pergola strung with lights.
I turn slowly, taking it all in. “Alexandria again?”
Torin looks offended. “Nope. This was all me.”
I smile and run my hand over the back of one of the deep cushioned chairs. There’s something kind of endearing about seeing this side of Torin. The huge bear who lived without hot water for two years clearly has a soft spot for comfort.
“I may have underestimated you.”
“Keep doing that. I’m enjoying proving you wrong.”
I’m about to sit when I remember my soaked shorts.
“Actually, I might need to change first.”
Torin glances down at them. “You want a shower?”
“God, yes.”
“I’ll find you something dry.” He looks me over. “One of my shirts should work.”
I picture myself in one of Torin’s shirts, and a warm little flutter goes through me. “Okay. That’d be great.”
The bathroom is… nice. Recently renovated, with a bunch of expensive-looking toiletries. I turn on the shower, step under the hot water and sigh as it washes away that sticky half-dried feeling.
When I’m done, there’s a pile of clothes waiting outside the door.
I pull on my underwear, then pick up the T-shirt.
It’s dark gray and soft from years of washing, with a faded mountain graphic across the front. As I pull it over my head, I catch the faint clean scent I’ve already started associating with Torin.
I pause with my arms still in the air and breathe it in.
Okay. I really like his shirt.
The shorts he left me are enormous. I hold them against myself and laugh. I could probably fit both legs into one side.
Then I catch sight of myself in the mirror.
The T-shirt falls halfway down my thighs, the collar slipping toward one shoulder. My hair is damp and curling however it wants, my face bare.
I look... good.
I look like myself.
Then I remember the way Torin looked at me when I came out of the trees in that bikini. The heat in his eyes. The way he tried to hide it and failed.
I look at the shorts in my hands.
Then set them back on the counter.
I leave them there.
When I go back to the terrace, Torin is sprawled on one of the sofas, a glass of iced tea in his hand. Another waits on the table beside him. He glances up.
A smile appears.
“Feeling more comfortable?”
“Much.”
His gaze drops briefly to my bare legs before returning to my face.
“The shorts were a lost cause,” I say.
He laughs. “Yeah. I was afraid of that.”
He hands me a glass. Our fingers brush. My pulse leaps and the glass wobbles in my hand.
I grip it tight. Don’t drop it, Hannah. I put it down extra carefully and sit down.
It’s ice cold. I take a long drink and perch on the sofa.
“How is it?” He’s waiting for my response.
“You made this?”
“Yeah.” He looks at me. “Why?”
I take another sip, considering it.
“Hannah.”
I keep a straight face for another second. “It’s good.”
He shakes his head, smiling. “You enjoyed that.”
“A little.” I smile into my glass. “Okay, I officially approve.”
“Of the tea?”
“Of all of it.” I gesture around us. “The sofa. The view. Everything.”
When I look back at him, he’s watching me.
Our eyes meet, and suddenly I’m very aware of what I just said.
I take another sip of tea and clear my throat.
“Must be a great spot to bring girls.”
Torin glances out across the mountains.
“Probably.”
“Probably?”
“Never brought one.”
“Oh—”
“Until now.” His eyes lock onto mine.
I blink.
So. I’m the first woman he’s brought here.
I take another sip, mostly to give myself something to do.
Torin’s still watching me.
“Why not?” I ask.
“Never wanted to.”
Oh. That lands somewhere low in my stomach.
I look down at my glass.
We met yesterday. And I’m sitting here in his T-shirt, on a terrace where he’s never brought another woman, trying very hard not to wonder what that means.
“I love it out here in winter, actually. I turn the fire right up. Keeps you warm even when there’s snow.”
“Turn it up?” I echo still stuck on never wanted to.
“It’s gas.” He laughs. “I wanted to be able to adjust the flame. Means I can have it on in summer too.”
“That’s the most un-beary thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“I know. Orson was disgusted. Told me I needed protecting from myself. Said he’d be happy to take over that responsibility.”
I laugh, and some of the tension eases.
“I take it he doesn’t join you out here.”
“Oh, he does.” Torin raises his eyebrows. “Makes a point of taking his time about it. Then eventually shows up and complains about how pathetic the flame is.”
“He sounds like fun.”
Torin sighs. “That’s one way of putting it.”
For a while, we sit, sipping iced tea as the day begins to soften around us.
The valley slips into shadow, and a breeze stirs through the trees, taking some of the heat out of the air.
Torin sets down his glass. “Ready to see the fire?”
“Thought you’d never ask.”
He flashes a grin and my heart gives a big thump again.
“Watch this.”
He reaches beneath the table and turns a small metal dial.
A ring of blue flames bursts to life inside the fire pit.
The flames grow stronger, dancing over a bed of black glass stones.
“Okay,” I admit. “This is nice.”
His gaze slides to mine.
“Told you.”
I settle back on the super comfy cushions and watch the flames flickering in the growing dark. A sigh spills out of me. I feel good. Not a feeling I ever thought I would ever have again.
“You like s’mores?” he says suddenly.
“Sure. But—” I look at the gas flame dubiously.
“Got a solution. Be right back.” He springs up and disappears inside.
A few minutes later, he returns carrying a wooden board.
My eyebrows rise.
On it are Graham crackers, chocolate, marshmallows. And beside them, a small metal implement.
“A blowtorch?”
He sets the board on the table between us.
“I bought it for crème br?lée.”
I burst out laughing.
Torin raises an eyebrow. “What’s funny?”
“You make crème br?lée?”
“Sometimes.”
I look at him, then at the tiny kitchen torch in his hand. “Of course you do.”
He grins and turns his attention back to the marshmallow. “Alexandria likes it.”
There’s something ridiculously sweet about that. I’m beginning to suspect Torin has accumulated half his domestic skills because somebody he cares about once mentioned liking something.
He skewers the marshmallow, then the torch hisses to life. I watch, fascinated, as Torin rotates the marshmallow carefully in the flame.
The surface darkens, bubbles. Turns golden brown.
Then, like he’s done it a hundred times before, he sandwiches it between two graham crackers, slips in a square of chocolate and hands it to me.
“There.”
I take a bite. Melted marshmallow squishes out the sides, chocolate smearing across my fingers. “Oh, that’s good.”
Torin is watching me.
I lick chocolate from my thumb, and his gaze drops to my mouth.
I take another bite, very aware of his attention.
Torin makes himself a s’more. I finish mine and reach for a napkin.
“You missed some.”
“Where?”
He touches the corner of his own mouth. I wipe at mine.
“Gone?”
“No.”
I try again.
Torin laughs quietly. “Other side.”
I roll my eyes. “Just tell me where.”
“Here.” He reaches toward me, his thumb brushing the corner of my mouth.
My breath catches.
His hand stills, and for a moment, he just looks at me. Then his gaze drops to my lips.
My heart starts pounding, a wild rush of yearning sweeping through me.
I know what’s about to happen.
Torin leans in slowly.
I tip my face toward his, barely able to keep still as he gets closer.
God, I want this.
His face is inches from mine. My pulse is racing, every nerve in my body alive with anticipation. His breath brushes my lips.
And my whole body locks.
My lungs seize. Every muscle draws tight as panic surges through me.
Torin stops instantly.
“Hannah?”
I can’t answer.
I don’t understand what’s happening either.