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I nodded and continued across the porch, breezing past him and into the cabin. Warmth surrounded me the second I stepped inside.
“Make yourself at home,” he said. “Can I get you something to drink?”
He set my luggage to the right of the door, then closed it behind him. At that point, he busied himself slamming each foot against the mat to get the snow off.
I looked down at my own snow-covered feet, now messing up his natural wood floors. Did he have some sort of protective coating on that wood? I sure hoped so.
“Sorry,” I said. “I can take my shoes off.”
His puzzled expression told me he wasn’t worried one bit about his flooring. But this whole situation made me feel like I’d gone through a time warp. There was just something so…old-timey about this place.
Frowning, I scanned the room for any sign of modern technology. A TV, digital clock, a lamp…
“Do you have electricity?” I asked, looking back at him.
He narrowed his eyes at me, then set the gift on a table next to the door. That made me realize I still held the other gift. Did I set it down or continue to hold it? Setting it down was a commitment to stick around here, wasn’t it?
He began shrugging out of his coat while looking around the room. “I live off the grid. My water’s hooked up to a well. A lot of us up here do that.”
Oh. Was he one of those doomsday-prepping types? Or maybe it was a religious thing. But didn’t people like that live in communities?
“You have a cell phone, though,” I said.
“Nope. No service. No point.”
“How do you stay in touch with people?”
He hung his coat on a hook and started across the room. “Don’t. Coffee?”
I looked around again, then set the gift on the table next to the other one. I took my coat off and hung it on the hook next to the door. It was plenty warm in here, which must have everything to do with the roaring fire. Flames shot up from logs in the biggest fireplace I’d ever seen.
“Sure,” I said. “Extra sugar and?—”
I started to say creamer, but what doomsday prepper had creamer? Didn’t it require refrigeration, which would rely on the grid?
I had a lot to learn about living off the grid. I realized that as I neared the kitchen area, which was the entire back corner of this one big room. He was standing at a tall table pushed against the wall, pouring some form of white creamy liquid from a jug into a coffee mug.
When he finished pouring, he leaned down and opened the door to what looked like a mini-fridge, sliding the container inside. He stood, handed me the cup, and looked at me.
I struggled to form words as I stared at him up close again. How was it possible he got better looking the more I stared at him? He had dark hair and a beard that contrasted with light gray eyes that seemed to see right into my soul. Just…gorgeous.
“Propane,” he said. “That’s how my refrigerator runs. Only way I could survive this lifestyle. I didn’t always live like this, and there are some old comforts I miss.”
“Like a microwave?” I asked.
I looked around his kitchen area. No microwave. There wasn’t even a stove or oven that I could see.
He pointed to an area behind me. Against the wall was a short, black, metal-looking contraption.
“Wood-burning stove,” he said.
Oh, wow. People actually lived like this?
As he started talking, he leaned back against the wall behind him, crossing his arms over his chest and staring straight ahead. He explained how he hunted and fished for food, and he and his buddies had a communal garden about a half mile down the mountain.
I barely heard a word of it, though. My mind was on the way those arms bulged under his long-sleeved flannel shirt. And that wasn’t the only bulge I saw. It was tough to miss the well-defined bulge under his jeans.
Did that mean he was really big? Or that he was turned on? If it was the latter, had I been the one to make that happen?
