"Appropriate reading material for living out in nature," I said as Neil finished in the kitchen.
"Seemed like required reading when I moved up here." He joined me by the bookshelves, his presence immediately makingthe space feel smaller. "Though Thoreau was a better writer than he was a woodsman."
"Most scholars are." I slid the book back into place, acutely aware of Neil standing close enough that I could smell his cedar and pine aftershave, or maybe that was just him. It was comforting. "We're much better at thinking about experiences than actually having them."
"Then why did you come looking for those journals in person instead of sending someone else?"
"Partly because I needed to prove I could do this myself and partly to show everyone who thinks I'm just Dr. Pemberton's research assistant that I can handle the extra responsibility."
He studied my face with an intensity that made my cheeks warm. "You proved something today."
"That I can get hopelessly lost in the woods?"
"That you don't give up when things get hard." His voice carried a note of approval that sent tingles down my spine. "Most people would have been crying for rescue hours earlier."
"I was crying when you found me."
"You were scared, not giving up. There's a difference."
He made me feel things I didn't want to examine too closely. When was the last time anyone had seen strength in me instead of weakness?
"You’ve had a long day," Neil said, breaking the moment. "You can take my bed. I'll sleep on the couch."
The mention of sleeping arrangements brought the reality of our situation crashing back. I was spending the night in this isolated cabin with a man I barely knew. A man whose presence made me hyperaware of every feeling that was coursing through me.
"I can't take your bed," I protested. "This is your home. I'll take the couch."
"You'll take the bed." His tone brooked no argument. "It's not negotiable."
Something about the way he said it—firm but protective rather than controlling—made my pulse spike. This was a man accustomed to making decisions and having them accepted.
"The couch is comfortable," he continued, gesturing to the leather sofa that dominated the seating area. "And I've slept on worse."
The bed in question was visible through an open doorway—king-sized, covered in what looked like handmade quilts, positioned to take advantage of a wall of windows facing the forest. The idea of sleeping in Neil Parker's bed, surrounded by his scent, made my stomach flutter.
"Thank you," I said.
"I'll get you some clothes to sleep in. Your hiking gear's not going to be comfortable to sleep in."
The idea of wearing his clothes sent another spike of awareness through me. "Will your wife or girlfriend mind?”
“No wife. No girlfriend. You’d be wearing a clean shirt of mine. Unless you want to sleep naked."
The word hung in the air between us, loaded with implications. My cheeks burned as images flashed through my mind—me in his bed, wearing nothing, with him just a room away.
"Your shirt will be fine," I managed.
He disappeared down the hallway and returned with a flannel shirt that looked like it would hang below my knees. The fabric was soft from countless washings, and when I took it from his hands, our fingers brushed. The contact sent electricity up my arm and straight to places that had no business responding to a stranger's touch.
"Feel free to take a shower. There’s plenty of hot water," he said gruffly. "Take your time. I'll bank the fire and get things settled out here."
In the bathroom, I stared at myself in the mirror again. My hair was still a disaster, my cheeks flushed from more than just the day's exertion. I looked like a woman on the edge of making a very bad decision.
Or a very good one, depending on your perspective.
The shower was a dream. When I came out wrapped in a towel that was softer than anything I owned, I could hear him moving around in the main room. Pulling on his flannel shirt, I laughed. The size difference was just as dramatic as I'd expected. The sleeves extended well past my hands, but it was warm and soft.
Neil was standing by the fireplace, when I came out. He was banking the coals for the night. He looked up and went completely still. The desire in his eyes was unmistakable. Heat flared between us and my knees quaked a bit.
