pleasure to wear a fur coat, so be it.…” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Do you enjoy trapping?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“It takes skill.”
“You like the challenge.”
“Yes.”
“Where did you learn how to do it?”
“A trapper taught me.” He stood and reached across the table for her plate. “All done?”
She nodded. “A local trapper?”
“He’s dead now.” Stacking the plates together, balancing glasses and flatware on top, he carried the lot to the sink. “I thought I’d make a stab at reaching your car. If you tell me what you want, I’ll bring back as much as I can.”
She rose quickly. “I’ll come with you.”
“No.”
“Two pairs of hands are better than one.”
He turned to face her. “Not in this case. If I have to hold you with one arm, I’ll have only one left for your things.”
“You won’t have to hold me.”
“Come on, Leah. You’ve been through that muck once. You know how treacherous it is.”
She approached the sink, intent on making her point. “But that was at night. I couldn’t see. I didn’t know where I was going. My shoes weren’t the greatest—”
“What shoes would you wear now?”
“Yours. You must have an old pair of boots lying around.”
“Sure. Size twelve.”
She was standing directly before him, her face bright with hope. “I could pad them with wool socks.”
“You could also pack your feet in cement and try to move, because that’s pretty much what it would be like.”
“I could do it, Garrick.”
“Not fast enough. In case you’ve forgotten, it’s raining out there. The idea is to make the round trip as quickly as possible.”
“How long can it take to dash a mile?”
“A mile?” He laughed. “Is that how far you thought you’d gone?”
“It took me forever,” she reasoned defensively, then quickly added, “but that was because it was dark and I kept falling.”
“Well, it’s light now, but you’ll fall anyway, because it’s slippery as hell out there. I’m used to it.” He brushed a forefinger along his mustache. “By the way, Victoria’s cabin is just about a third of a mile from here.”
“A third —” she began in amazement, then turned embarrassment into optimism. “But that’s nothing. I’ll be able to do it.”
Garrick looked down at her. Her head was tipped back, her brows arched high in hope. He found himself caught, enchanted by the gentle color on her cheeks, taunted by her moist, slightly parted lips. He wanted to kiss her just then, wanted it so suddenly and so badly that he knew he couldn’t do it. He’d bruise her. He’d be settling an argument in the sexist way he’d used in the past but detested now. Worse, he’d be showing a decided lack of control.
Control was what his new life was about. Self-control. No drinking, no smoking, no carousing. No impulsive kisses.
Instead of lowering his mouth to hers, he raised his hands to her shoulders and held them lightly. “I’d rather you stay here, Leah. For your own safety and comfort, if nothing else.”
Had he said it any other way or offered any other reason, Leah probably would have continued to argue. But his voice had been like smooth sand in the sun, fine grains of warmth entering her, quieting her, and his expression of concern was new and welcome.
Sucking on her upper lip, she stepped back, then forward again, this time around his large frame. She gave him a gentle nudge at the back of his waist. “Go. I’ll clean up.”
“You’ll have to tell me what you want.”
“Let me think for a minute.”
While she thought, he built up the fire and pulled on his rain gear. He was just finishing buckling his boots, when she handed him a list of what she’d like and where in her car he could find it. Tucking that list into the pocket of his oilskin slicker, he tugged up the hood, tipped its rim in the facsimile of a salute, then left.
* * *
A SHORT TIME LATER , sitting in the driver’s seat of the
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“It takes skill.”
“You like the challenge.”
“Yes.”
“Where did you learn how to do it?”
“A trapper taught me.” He stood and reached across the table for her plate. “All done?”
She nodded. “A local trapper?”
“He’s dead now.” Stacking the plates together, balancing glasses and flatware on top, he carried the lot to the sink. “I thought I’d make a stab at reaching your car. If you tell me what you want, I’ll bring back as much as I can.”
She rose quickly. “I’ll come with you.”
“No.”
“Two pairs of hands are better than one.”
He turned to face her. “Not in this case. If I have to hold you with one arm, I’ll have only one left for your things.”
“You won’t have to hold me.”
“Come on, Leah. You’ve been through that muck once. You know how treacherous it is.”
She approached the sink, intent on making her point. “But that was at night. I couldn’t see. I didn’t know where I was going. My shoes weren’t the greatest—”
“What shoes would you wear now?”
“Yours. You must have an old pair of boots lying around.”
“Sure. Size twelve.”
She was standing directly before him, her face bright with hope. “I could pad them with wool socks.”
“You could also pack your feet in cement and try to move, because that’s pretty much what it would be like.”
“I could do it, Garrick.”
“Not fast enough. In case you’ve forgotten, it’s raining out there. The idea is to make the round trip as quickly as possible.”
“How long can it take to dash a mile?”
“A mile?” He laughed. “Is that how far you thought you’d gone?”
“It took me forever,” she reasoned defensively, then quickly added, “but that was because it was dark and I kept falling.”
“Well, it’s light now, but you’ll fall anyway, because it’s slippery as hell out there. I’m used to it.” He brushed a forefinger along his mustache. “By the way, Victoria’s cabin is just about a third of a mile from here.”
“A third —” she began in amazement, then turned embarrassment into optimism. “But that’s nothing. I’ll be able to do it.”
Garrick looked down at her. Her head was tipped back, her brows arched high in hope. He found himself caught, enchanted by the gentle color on her cheeks, taunted by her moist, slightly parted lips. He wanted to kiss her just then, wanted it so suddenly and so badly that he knew he couldn’t do it. He’d bruise her. He’d be settling an argument in the sexist way he’d used in the past but detested now. Worse, he’d be showing a decided lack of control.
Control was what his new life was about. Self-control. No drinking, no smoking, no carousing. No impulsive kisses.
Instead of lowering his mouth to hers, he raised his hands to her shoulders and held them lightly. “I’d rather you stay here, Leah. For your own safety and comfort, if nothing else.”
Had he said it any other way or offered any other reason, Leah probably would have continued to argue. But his voice had been like smooth sand in the sun, fine grains of warmth entering her, quieting her, and his expression of concern was new and welcome.
Sucking on her upper lip, she stepped back, then forward again, this time around his large frame. She gave him a gentle nudge at the back of his waist. “Go. I’ll clean up.”
“You’ll have to tell me what you want.”
“Let me think for a minute.”
While she thought, he built up the fire and pulled on his rain gear. He was just finishing buckling his boots, when she handed him a list of what she’d like and where in her car he could find it. Tucking that list into the pocket of his oilskin slicker, he tugged up the hood, tipped its rim in the facsimile of a salute, then left.
* * *
A SHORT TIME LATER , sitting in the driver’s seat of the
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