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His cool palms framed her cheeks. “If I could be real, I would be with you for even a snippet in time.”
“Fletch.” His name came out in a breath as she leaned closer and pushed up on her tiptoes.
Time stilled.
As if each clock forgot to tick.
Every molecule stood at attention.
Pulling her face toward his, their lips met. Warm and strong. Solid yet silky. Michelle’s soft body leaned into his hard planes as his hands dropped, skirting over her arms and down to her waist, pulling her hips against him.
The heat of the fire burning in the hearth was a flicker in comparison to the flames surging between these two lost souls, strangers in a dangerous, fear-filled world. As time passed, Fetch’s interest was increasingly evident against her lower stomach.
Neither one knew who was the first to break away. But once it happened, an awkward silence prevailed until Michelle uttered the words from her heart. “I can’t forget you.”
“You don’t have a choice. This is bigger than both of us.” His nostrils flared as he inhaled. “I’ll do everything I can to get you home safely. Avoiding the aftershocks of your father’s death will be up to you. I won’t tell you what to do or who to trust. I hope you have better discernment than I’ve had.” He shook his head. “I’m off to shower.” Lifting his chin toward the kitchen, he said, “I saw cans of soup. It’s past noon and I don’t know about you, but running for our lives builds my appetite.”
Michelle wanted more information than Fletch was willing to give. Yet her instincts said to wait. Neither one of them would be going anywhere in this blizzard. She nodded. “I saw more than soup. I’ll see what I can throw together.”
She watched as Fletch walked toward the bedroom. As he made it to the doorway, he tugged his hoodie and dri-FIT shirt over his head, revealing his toned shoulders and back. While those alone were gawk-worthy, it was the tattoo covering his shoulder blades that held her attention. She’d seen that tattoo on only one other person—her father.
CHAPTER SIX
Despite the cabin being in the middle of nowhere, with the generator running and the fire blazing, the interior was warm and welcoming. The appliances were not modern, yet they weren’t archaic. Michelle found cans of vegetables, potatoes, and broth. In no time, she had a vegetable stew simmering, a fresh pot of coffee brewing, and a loaf of vacuum-sealed bread thawing. She put a few slices in the oven, filling the cabin with the aroma of fresh-baked bread.
If it wasn’t obvious by Michelle’s curvy physique, cooking and eating were some of her favorite activities.
When Fletch emerged from the bedroom, she couldn’t help scanning from his head to his toes. His dark hair was damp, falling to his shoulders. His cheeks were pink from the earlier cold. His broad shoulders were covered by a gray t-shirt, and his long legs were covered with light gray sweatpants.
“Something smells amazing.”
“Not eating for a while makes everything smell delicious.”
Fletch made his way to the coffee pot and poured a cup. When he turned, he did the same scan Michelle had just done. Self-consciously, she imagined her air-dried brown hair falling in unruly curls, her blue eyes fading into no-man’s-land without makeup, and her curves that were accentuated with the tight activewear pants. And yet judging by his expression, Fletch wasn’t seeing what she did in her mind’s eye.
His cheeks rose and his lips curled. “I’m a selfish bastard.”
“Why is that?”
“I asked you to forget me, but I don’t want that to happen. I know I won’t be able to forget you.”
His words were like magnets, dragging her closer.
When only a few inches away, Michelle looked up. “Where did you get your tattoo, the one on your back?”
Fletch stiffened as if she’d asked for his deepest, darkest secret. “Something I got one drunk night in the service.”
“Service? Army? Navy? Marines?”
“Service.” He took a step away.
Michelle reached for his hand. “My dad had the same tattoo. He told me the same story only he said while in the academy.”
With his jaw clenched, Fletch nodded.
Michelle’s brow furrowed. “Don’t you think that’s odd that you and my father would have the same tattoo?”
“How many unique tattoos are there? I mean, you walk into a shop and point. ‘I want that.’” He lifted the lid from the pot of soup. “Damn, this is better than straight from the can.”
