In the Firelight (5 page)

Dropping a bit of muffin on the floor for Wolfie, she reached into the cupboard to pull out a small glass, then crossed to the refrigerator to pour some milk. The light from the fridge cast her shadow into the living room. A rustle of the heavy quilt, and Rhys’ head appeared over the back of the couch looking at her in the kitchen.

Shit!

Closing the fridge, Shea murmured, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up. I’ll be done in a minute, and you can go back to sleep.”

“It’s okay,” he mumbled sleepily. “I’ve actually been awake for a little bit. Having a hard time sleeping.”

Oh shit… had he heard her?

“I, um… forgot to eat dinner, and I was starving,” she quietly stammered. “Are you hungry at all?”

“Fine, thanks. I ate a big old gutbuster at the steakhouse before I headed out of town.”

Shea grabbed her muffin and milk and walked into the light of the fireplace to sit on the opposite end of the couch. She tucked her legs beneath her in the flannel of the voluminous knee-length nightshirt. As she took a bite of her muffin and looked over at him… and gaped.

Rhys had removed his shirt, she realized with a heavy swallow, fighting to get the bit of muffin down her throat. And he really was
incredibly fucking gorgeous.

The blanket she had given him was low on his hips, showcasing a fine display of muscles before her. A shadowing of dark hair seemed to enhance the tight cut of his pecs and abs. His heavy, strong arm lay along his side, his hand lying on his hip.

For a moment, Shea froze. Unable to swallow. Unable to breath. Her mind flitted back to what she had been doing, what he may have quite possibly heard her doing, up in her loft bed only a short time before, thinking of his bare chest. Her imagination, as good as it was, hadn’t done him justice.

The pull was so strong, the desire to run her fingers across his skin, through the coarse hair and over the defined muscles. Both her and Gavin, her short-term husband, had been fairly young when they had married, and he was in no way near the masculine specimen she saw before her. Thin and wiry, he’d been the only man she’d ever been with. Their love life had been one of learning, trial and mostly error, and short-lived at that.

Shea had read trashy romance novels and dreamed occasionally of a large Superman-like figure to rush in and ravish her, but this was the first time she had ever felt a tug like this—this strong—to a real life, hot-blooded man. The ache she had alleviated earlier returned with a vengeance. A throbbing, fiery need that coursed throughout her body causing her to physically squirm at the sensation.

Of their own accord, her eyes traveled down his waist, seeing a glimpse of denim peeking above the blanket that had settled at his hips.
Oh, thank God. He was still wearing his jeans.
As much as he was affecting her, she didn’t think she could trust herself had he removed them. As it was, she was fighting the urge to straddle him and scatter kisses across his chest, to feel his powerful body between her thighs.

Tearing her hungry eyes away, she looked down into her glass of milk, taking a sip. The quiet in the room seemed a bit painful, and she could barely stand it. She turned her attention to Wolfie, who had come to sit before her, and fed him a few more bites of muffin. She hadn’t eaten much, but her stomach wasn’t growling anymore and, quite honestly, she wasn’t sure if she could swallow anything solid. She’d be safer to stick with the milk at this point.

A motion from Rhys drew her eyes back over to him, and she watched as he scrubbed his face with his hands, clearing the sleep from his eyes. In the low firelight, she was hypnotized by the play of his powerful muscles as he moved.

Needing to direct her attention somewhere else and doing everything in her power to keep her voice from shaking, Shea asked, “So, how long are you in town for?”

Rhys lifted his gaze to hers as he stretched slightly on the couch, rolling to his side and leaning his head on his elbow. “About a week… maybe two. Not sure, really…”

Shea finished her milk, setting the glass on the table at the end of the couch. She stood to grab a piece of firewood, placing it in the fire. “Well, you picked a beautiful, if not a little bit complicated, time of year for a visit. We tend to get a big dump of snow about this time.” She reached for the poker, moving the logs around a little to encourage the new wood to catch the flame.

“Yeah… it’s been a while since I’ve been in the mountains and out of the city. I sort of figured it would be like riding a bike, but it’s easy to forget things… like how quickly it gets dark.”

“The mountains are beautifully dangerous…” Shea murmured softly. “Where are you from?”

“I grew up here in Montana, actually. Near Frenchtown. My dad still lives there. I went off to college in Indiana, and I loved the big city. It was so different from what I was used to.”

“Do you come back very often?”

“Not really. I’m usually pretty busy with work. Every couple years, I suppose. To see my dad, listen to him complain about my lack of stability since I don’t have a wife and kids like my older brother.”

“It can be hard when you don’t fit the mold,” Shea said distantly. “I always tried, but I guess I never exactly knew what mold was supposed to fit me.” Suddenly, Shea felt vulnerable, as though she had let something slip. Something about herself that she’d rather keep hidden. “Well, the tryptophan in my milk is kicking in, making me a little drowsy, so I’m going to try and get some sleep.” She rose and headed back towards the stairs to the loft, Wolfie again at her heels. “Goodnight…” she murmured.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” Rhys said back, and the husky sound of his endearment registered in her brain, shooting a shiver of wanting through her body. She looked back at him, guarded and almost fearful, before she finally escaped up the stairs to the safety of her bed.

As usual, Shea woke early, well before it was light. She quickly dressed in her faded jeans and a thick sweater on over the top. Wolfie waited for her at the bottom of the stairs, her sentry in the night, ready to go outside to explore. At the doorway, Shea slipped on her heavy snow boots, warm from the boot dryer, a pair of gloves, and her heavy Carhartt coat. Then she headed outside.

The heavy snowfall from the night before had the woods around her cabin blanketed in a deep frosting of drifts. Very little wind blew in her little gulch, although up higher at the top of the ridge, the hollow sound of the breeze blowing through the trees could be heard. The sun shone brightly down, dancing off the crystals of snow with a nearly blinding brilliance. Shea reached in the pocket of her coat for her sunglasses, simple aviator style, and grabbed the snow shovel beside the front door. Time to get to work.

Beginning with the stairs, she shoveled a path to the driveway that lay buried beneath the coldness of winter. Funny how, after a heavy snowfall, the emergence of bright sunlight made it seem even colder. Gramps used to say it was something about the clouds keeping in the heat of the earth, and, when they disappeared, it was like a protective blanket had been lifted to let in the chill.

Wolfie, in all his sled-dog ancestry, loved the snow and barked with excitement as she pitched a shovelful, leaping to try and catch some.

“Shhh… you crazy dog. You’re going to wake our guest,” Shea scolded and resumed shoveling, pushing instead of throwing the snow in what she hoped was a boring manner that her canine companion would quickly tire of. It worked, and he wandered off, sniffing out animals that had visited in the night, running along the edges of the yard and around the driveway to mark his territory.

After shoveling for what seemed like forever, Shea had a path cleared from the house down to the woodshed and alongside the lean-to that kept the snow off her truck. She set the shovel aside and reached for a few medium-sized logs on the woodpile inside the shed, heading back into the cabin to build the fire back up.

As she entered the cabin, Shea steadfastly avoided looking at where Rhys lay sleeping. All night she had seen him every time she closed her eyes, knowing he was so close. She had finally dozed off so very late, and only then from sheer exhaustion.

She placed the pile of wood on the hearth beside the fireplace, grabbing a few split pieces with their jagged edges to rekindle the flame. She set them on the coals and, with a few heavy puffs of air, the flames began slowing licking up the logs to warm the room.

Unable to delay it any longer, almost feeling his eyes on her, she finally turned around. And there was Rhys, lying on the couch, watching her. Still bare-chested in the early morning light, the quilt tucked around his waist.

Damn.

“Good morning,” Shea said softly. “I’m sorry that I woke you. It’s next to impossible to be quiet with a load of firewood.”

“No problem. I should probably get up anyway, see if the phone is working. If nothing else, maybe I could get a ride into town so I’m not inconveniencing you even more than I already have.” He spoke softly, considerately.

“You’re not so bad. I was a little tired and grouchy last night, and I probably shouldn’t have taken it out on you,” Shea conceded. “Let me check the phone, though. Heavy snow tends to trigger the utility companies to check things out, and they get on it pretty quick when they know a line is down.” She rose, placing the remaining chunks of wood in the tub to the side of the fireplace, and removed her gloves as she walked into the kitchen area.

When she hit the button this time, there was a dial-tone, so Shea quickly grabbed a phone book to look up the number for Frankie’s Towing Service. Frankie was an odd guy that she’d known since high school and the only tow truck in town.

“I’ve got a dial-tone,” she told Rhys as she dialed. “I should be able to get through.”

“Hullo,” the voice on the other end said.

“Hey, Frankie? This is Shea.”

“Hey.” She could almost see his goofy smile as though he was standing right in front of her. “What’s up?”

“Well, I came across a car stuck in the snow last night,” Shea explained. “I brought the guy home to call, but then the phones were out.”

“Shit, Shea. You should have brought him to town. Are you okay?”

“Fine, Frankie. Geez… But he’s still here and needs someone to pull his car out.”

At that moment, Shea turned to the living room and gasped loudly at the sight that greeted her—Rhys, standing in front of the fireplace while he shrugged on his shirt. His bare chest was mouthwatering, and his pants were unbuttoned to allow him to tuck the shirt in once it was on. Feeling her eyes on him, he looked up at her as he pulled the shirt on, and her face flamed.

“Well, shit, Shea,” Frankie was saying on the other end of the line, “I’ll get out there as fast as I can, okay?”

“Uh, huh…” Shea mumbled.

“Shea?” Frankie barked. “Are you okay?”

Shaking her head to clear the stupor that had overtaken her, Shea turned her back to Rhys. “Um, yeah… fine. Sorry. Okay, see you in a bit.”

Shea set the cordless phone back on the charger, taking a slow deep breath to regain her composure.
Good God,
she had thought he was beautiful in the firelight, almost expecting him to turn into an ogre by the light of day. But no… he was no ogre. He was probably the most mouthwatering man she’d ever met.

Stop it, Shea!
she berated herself. It would just end eventually, like everything else, and she would be better off not even going there. With an angry determination, she looked back at him again.

“So, I’m going to make some coffee, and there’s some muffins in that container by the stove. Help yourself.”

Rhys walked into the kitchen, grabbing a muffin and taking a bite, watching her while he chewed. Shea felt clumsy and uncoordinated as she poured the coffee beans into the grinder, almost spilling them all over the counter. Rhys looked as though he was about to say something, and she immediately clicked the button, the loud chopping sounds of the beans effectively stalling any further conversation. As she finished putting everything where it needed to be to brew the coffee, she noted that he was still looking at her, a slight smile on his lips while he chewed large bites of muffin.

“Are you okay?” he asked, cocking his head slightly. “You look, um… kinda pissed off all of a sudden.”

Probably best if he thought she was a total bitch,
Shea thought to herself.