Page 53 of Beastly Mountain Man

“Then I’ll fix it.”

That sounded exactly like Caprice.

She could run a production, explain technology I barely understood, chase a dog through six inches of snow, and still decide a wet glove could wait five minutes.

I liked every part of the combination.

Bear suddenly left us and headed toward the trail to my house.

I checked the time.

Almost three-thirty.

“We stayed out longer than I thought.”

Caprice’s eyebrows rose. “You lost track?”

“I was distracted.”

“By what?”

I looked at her.

Her smile went slow.

“That is extremely satisfying.”

“You’re also soaked.”

She looked down.

The knees of her snow pants had darkened, one sleeve carried a wet patch from Bear’s last collision, and melting snow dampened the edge of her hat.

“You’re not exactly dry.”

“No.”

“Is the rental closer?”

“From here, my house is about the same distance.”

Bear waited near the path.

“He needs food anyway. Come over. We can get warm, dry your clothes, and head back later.”

Caprice followed the trail with her eyes until it disappeared between the trees.

Then she looked at me.

“You’re inviting me to your house.”

“Yes.”

“I know you live there. I’ve heard about it. I’ve apparently walked past the turn several times without knowing.”

“You have.”

“But I haven’t seen it.”