She crouchedbeside him, following his motion as he laid the kindling just so. Their shoulders nearly brushed; she felt the heat of him long before the flames.
For a moment, neither moved.
The air did more than hum—it tightened, like the cabin itself had pulled in a breath.
“Small pieces first,” he said. “Let the air do half the work. Don’t rush it.”
She smiled faintly. “You sound like Burke.”
“Patience saves you every time.”
When the flame caught, he eased on the logs, steady as a craftsman. She watched the room come alive.
He sat back on his heels, satisfied. “There. Old-fashioned heat.”
She looked around, surprised by the change. “Amazing what a fire does. Whole cabin feels alive again.”
“Nothing beats it,” he said. “You can fake a lot, but not warmth.”
Scout’s gaze lifted—slow, unavoidable—and landed on her.
Not the agent with the clipped voice and sharp questions.
Just Tessa.
Tall even sitting on the rug, legs folded beneath her, long brown hair falling loose over one shoulder with a hint of auburn catching in the firelight. The flames picked up the pale gray-blue of her eyes, made them look almost silver against the dark sweep of her brows.
Strong. Lean. Beautiful without trying to be.
He’d worked beside her for weeks during Caitlin’s case.
Search grids collapsing. Tempers fraying. Hope thinning.
He’d watched her take command when the ridge started to fracture.
Voice level. Eyes steady. No wasted words.
When she gave an order, people moved.
He’d known then she wasn’t just sharp.
She was steel.
But tonight, in firelight, she wasn’t the woman who held a mountain together.
She was just a woman sitting on the rug with her hair loose and her guard down.
And for a split second, he forgot the case.
Forgot the weather.
Forgot everything but the fact that she was right there, warm and real, and looking at him like she felt it too.
Tallulah stretched, chirped once, and curled in front of the hearth—nose to tail, content—like the cat had decided someone in this cabin needed to keep their head.
Scout cleared his throat. “You got a poker?”
“Uh—yeah.” Tessa reached for the tool set too quickly, her fingers clumsy. She handed it to him.
