“Work on projects. Read. Hike sometimes.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“Don’t you get lonely?”
“No.”
The answer was immediate. Certain.
“What about friends? Family?”
“I have friends in town. Family’s back east. We talk.”
“You moved out here to get away from people.”
“Yeah.”
“And now I’m here, invading your solitude.”
He looked at me for a long moment. “You’re not invading.”
The way he said it made my stomach flip.
“I can stay out of your way,” I said quickly. “I’ll just read or explore or something. You won’t even know I’m here.”
“I’ll know.”
Two words. But the way his eyes held mine made me think he meant something else entirely.
I took a long sip of coffee to hide my face.
“I’m going to work on the sculpture today,” he said. “In town. You want to come?”
Yes. Absolutely yes. A thousand times yes.
“I don’t want to be in your way.”
“You won’t be.”
“You sure?”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t sure.”
“Okay. Yeah. That sounds good.”
He nodded once, then stood and took our plates to the sink. “We leave in twenty.”
I watched him rinse the dishes, trying not to notice the way his forearms flexed or how his t-shirt pulled across his shoulders.
Rule #16: Keep your wits about you, especially around a man who makes you forget them.
Too late, Momma. My wits had left the building the second I saw him with that chainsaw yesterday.
I went back upstairs and attempted to make myself presentable, which was a joke given my limited wardrobe and complete lack of makeup. I settled on the same shorts but one of the few tops that wasn’t a t-shirt, and pulled my hair into a ponytail.
When I came back downstairs, Bridger was waiting by the door in jeans, a black t-shirt, work boots, and a ball cap pulled low.
