Beard Necessities (Winston Brothers, #7)(102)

Oddly, I liked the sound of that, so I decided to keep it.

“Okay, come on.” I took a step into the forest and once again she followed.

However, after a few feet, she chuckled.

“What?” I asked, glancing at her over my shoulder.

“Oh, I just can’t believe you’re walking in here willingly and I was just thinking I better take note so I can lead us out before supper.”

“You’re real funny.” I gave her a flat look.

“I know.” She grinned, looking cute and smug.

We walked on for a bit, slowly, picking through the fallen branches and shrubs.

A minute later, I felt her hand in mine twitch, squeeze, and then release as her steps slowed. “Billy. Where are we going?”

“I want to show you something.” I didn’t look back at her this time. Those nerves had returned, making it hard to swallow, and I gave my pants pocket an automatic pat. The box is still there.

I knew the moment she spotted the cabin because her breath caught and she stopped walking. I gave her a minute, and then I pulled on her hand, guiding her forward the rest of the way.

We crested the slight hill together and I made sure to go slowly, giving her time to adjust to what she was seeing and only looking back at her when we made it to the base of the steps.

“Billy.” Her eyes were on the door and the frame, the log walls, the stone steps and foundation. And then they were on me, full of wonder. “What did you do?”

I brought her hand to my lips and kissed the back of it. “Let me show you the inside.”

We climbed the steps and I pushed open the door, revealing the small but tidy interior. It wasn’t well lit from the windows. Leaving her just inside, I crossed to the kerosene lamp on the table and struck a match. When the space was filled with light, I turned back to study her.

This time, she was looking at me. “You built this?”

I nodded, glancing around, my eyes lingering on the quilt covering the bed. It was the same quilt she’d used when this spot had been her campsite. “I tried to start construction on it the fall after I was discharged from the rehab facility, that year after you left. But then it quickly became clear I didn’t know what the heck I was doing.” Again, I laughed at my former self. “I didn’t know the first thing about building a cabin. So we put it off.”

“We?”

“Duane and I built it together.”

“When did you build it?” She crossed to the fireplace, inspecting the stones inlaid at the floor and I wondered if she recognized them. They were the very same stones we’d gathered in the stream that weekend after Thanksgiving, the ones that surrounded her firepit.

“I started it right after you married Ben.”

“So you spent that summer building a cabin.”

It wasn’t a question, so I didn’t answer it. Instead, I watched her stand there, her gaze still wide with wonder. She then moved from place to place, touching the hearth, the walls, the little table, the chairs. She even touched the fire stick in the corner, a bubble of laughter leaving her as she met my eyes.

“Is this the fire stick?”

I nodded, not wishing to speak. Perhaps it was habit that kept me silent. When I was building it and later on, when I’d come to visit on my own to feel close to her, I never spoke. There’d been no one to talk to.

Finished making her rounds, Scarlet paused in front of the bed and then she turned and sat on it, bouncing up and down as though to test the mattress.

“This bed sure is comfy.” She’d lowered her voice to say this, which—after spending all that time with her in Rome—I now knew meant she had certain activities on the mind.

I twisted my lips to the side, watching her watch me. “Is it?”

She stopped bouncing. “What? You never slept on it?”

“No. I haven’t.”

My answer seemed to confuse her. “Did you spend much time here?”

“I did. Especially in the winter. November, every year, I spent time here.”

Lying on her side and propping herself up on her elbow, her gaze drifted over me. “Did you have any plans?”

“Plans?”

A saucy smile claimed her lips. “If I had ever come here, with you, what were your plans?”

I huffed a laugh. “Well, that seemed so completely out of the realm of possibility—”

“No, but you had plans.” She rolled onto her back, her eyes still on me. “I can tell.”

Now my gaze drifted over her, the slopes and curves of her body, her hair fanned out on the quilt, the alluring sparkle in her eyes. “You’re right,” I said gruffly, recognizing the now familiar response in my own body at the sight of her looking at me like she was.

But first, I wanted to tell her the truth. “At first, I had these plans I was going to offer it to you, as a safe place. To show you there was more than one. Somewhere that had once been your safe place could be again. But then—” I pushed away from the wall and moved to the edge of the bed, kneeling next to where she lay “—as things progressed between us in Italy . . .”

“Yes?”

Lifting my hand to her forehead, I slid my fingers into her hair. “I saw that you’d found your safe place on your own, and you didn’t need it anymore. And that was good.”