Page 37 of Mountain Dreams

“Mads. You okay?”

His voice brought her back to the present. “Yeah. Like I said, I’m just tired.”

“What if we go back to my place and order Chinese?”

She liked that idea better, though it didn’t make any sense. How was eating dinner together in his cozy cabin safer than in a public restaurant?

“Or we could get a pizza,” he said, misunderstanding her hesitation.

“Chinese sounds good,” she said.

“Great!”

Once they were back inside his cabin, he opened a kitchen drawer and rummaged through it for a Chinese take-out menu. She stood beside him and chuckled.

“What’s so funny?”

“You really are bad at organization.” The drawer was stuffed with restaurant menus, receipts, matchbooks, and other odds and ends. She wondered how he’d ever find what he was looking for in that mess.

“Thanks,” he said drily and continued looking through the drawer. “I’d like to think my skills lie in other areas…” He paused and gave her a look that made her step back, as if just standing near him would set her ablaze.

He chuckled at her reaction and returned to digging. A few seconds later, he pulled out a menu and said, “Ah-ha! Here it is. I already know what I want, so you can look.”

She took the menu from him without touching his hand, and she hoped he didn’t notice. While she perused the menu, he casually leaned against the counter and watched her, which made her squirm.

“I’ll have the sweet and sour chicken,” she said without actually finding it on the menu. She might have tried something different, but it was hard to concentrate with him standing so close.

“I’ll call it in.”

As he placed the order, she walked out of the kitchen and into the living room, anxious to put some distance between them. She went over to the sliding door that led onto the deck and peered outside. Dusk had settled over the mountains, painting the sky various shades of blue, gold, and pink. The view was unobstructed, and the scene was breathtaking and serene.

Suddenly she felt his presence behind her, and it was like the air shimmered around them.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he said softly.

She nodded. “I never get tired of it.”

“Me either.”

They stood quietly for a time and admired the view. Even though they weren’t touching, she felt the heat of his body against her back. All her senses came alive at his nearness, reminding her of how she’d felt in history class. The memory caused her to shiver, and she wrapped her arms around herself.

“I’ll start a fire while we wait for our food,” he said.

She spun around and faced him. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.” He moved away, and she felt a chill from his quick departure. What’s wrong with me? I hung out with him all the time in high school, so why should now be any different?

She perched on the edge of the couch and watched him build a fire. His movements were practiced and efficient, like he’d done it a thousand times before. It struck her that even though there was a fireplace in Wyatt’s house, they’d never used it for romantic purposes. Of course, Cody was only doing this because he mistakenly thought she was cold, but still… After loading the grate with logs and stuffing newspapers underneath, he struck a long match against the brick fireplace, and the flame burst to life. He held it to the papers, and the fire immediately started popping and crackling, bathing the room in a warm glow.

He was crouched down with his back to her, and now he stood and turned around. Backlit by the flickering flames, she thought he looked gorgeous, albeit a bit rumpled, as usual. His thermal henley had come partially untucked from his jeans, which were well worn and fit him to a tee. His hair was mussed from the wind they’d encountered going in and out of apartment buildings, and he hadn’t bothered to fix it. She also noticed his five o’clock shadow, which only added to his sex appeal.

He had a few wrinkles at the corners of his eyes now, and he’d gained a few pounds since high school, but neither hindered his appearance. If anything, he looked even sexier with a little more meat on his bones, and it was probably more muscle than fat anyway.

“Mind if I sit with you?” he asked, breaking into her reverie.

The couch faced the fireplace, and a matching recliner was off to the side, so it made sense he’d want to sit there.

“Sure,” she said and scooted over. The couch felt smaller once he sat down, but she stayed put, not wanting to draw attention to herself by moving further away. Anyway, they’d sat by each other in history class for an entire year. How was this any different?