The Military Wife (A Heart of a Hero, #1)(42)

It was achingly intimate. Part of her wanted to rip herself away from him, but another part wanted to drift back to sleep and ignore the messy world outside the cabin door.

A sigh interrupted the sleepy cadence of his breathing. She could tell the exact moment he exited dreams for reality. His body turned into a taut rubber band, thrumming with dynamic energy. She forced herself to stay relaxed against him.

He curled his hand around hers for a heartbeat before letting go and shifting out of the bed. As if she’d just woken, she hummed and stretched, watching him through slitted eyes. He stoked the fire. Jack sat by the door, not making a sound.

Bennett let him out and let in a blast of cold air. She shivered and pulled the covers over her nose, trying to capture the warmth he’d left behind. He stood by a window, the light limning his profile, and ran a hand through his hair.

The image that popped into her head was an abandoned toy soldier, still upright but grimly alone and cast aside. Her breath got stuck somewhere between her lungs and heart.

He moved to the door, the illusion broken. Jack trotted back inside, shaking himself. After giving Jack another can of dog food, Bennett approached the bed with a foil packet. She looked up at him with the covers still over most of her face.

“Can I interest you in a Pop-Tart?”

“What flavor?”

“Brown sugar. Frosted, of course.”

She snaked her hand out of the cover and took the packet. “I don’t want to get crumbs in your bed.”

“I won’t kick you out.” His slow smile could only be described as insinuating. Her insides went crazy, her heart dancing across her ribs, something slow and sexy like a tango. Before she could do more than stutter nonsense, he retreated to poke at the logs in the fireplace.

She ate one of the Pop-Tarts, but her throat was so dry she had a hard time swallowing. “I don’t suppose you have a hand-cranked coffeemaker stashed somewhere?”

He huffed a laugh. “I don’t even have instant, unfortunately. You miss it?”

“Desperately. Could you pass me my jeans?”

He glanced over his shoulder. “Let me get them warmed up first.”

When he tossed them to her, they were dryer-fresh toasty. She shimmied them on under the covers and girded herself to emerge from her cocoon. Barefoot she ran on her toes to join him at the fire, squatting to hold her hands out.

“Was it this cold yesterday?”

“No. The clouds cleared and the temperature has fallen even with the sunshine.”

“Is it too cold to hike out?”

“Not going to get much warmer today. It won’t be so bad once we’re moving. I need to take a look at your blisters before we head out, though.”

Unable to unstick her gaze from him, she nodded, aware of him in ways that made parts of her tingle. Or was that the beginnings of frostbite? Bennett didn’t seem to be battling the same weirdness she grappled with. For all she knew, he cuddled up with women all the time.

Yet … she didn’t think so. He wore his loner vibes like a familiar sweatshirt. The kind you refused to throw away despite the frays.

“Did you ever get married?” She couldn’t believe the question popped out of her mouth with no vetting from her brain. But, now that it was out, she was desperate to know.

His brows lowered and the side-eye he shot her was cutting. “No.”

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

“You think I would’ve…?” He let out a long sigh and grabbed the first-aid kit from the counter. “No.”

It was the first true acknowledgment that whatever had sprung to life last night wasn’t in her imagination.

“I don’t, either.” At his slightly quizzical expression, her mouth kept running. “Have a boyfriend, I mean. I haven’t dated anyone since Noah died, actually. Much to my mom’s horror.”

“She thinks you should date?” He cracked the top of a water bottle and took a sip.

“Date. Have fun. Participate in the exchange of bodily fluids.”

He choked and doubled over in a coughing fit that was interspersed with laughter. It was such a rare event, she couldn’t help but chuckle along with him. After he got control of himself, he said, “She did not say it like that.”

“You don’t know my mom. Retirement has unleashed unruly tendencies. She’s currently taking a nude painting class. And by ‘nude’ I don’t mean she paints in the nude—although I wouldn’t put it past her—but that she’s painting naked young men. And loving it.”

Their laughter intertwined, his a little rusty but pleasantly rumbly. Even after his laughter faded, his smile remained. His eyes crinkled and his teeth gleamed white in his dark beard, his two bottom teeth overlapping a little. The room seemed to heat a few degrees. Jack settled at her hip, and she leaned over to bury her face in his ruff to hide her blush.

“You don’t seem as unconventional as she sounds.”

“I’m not. I tried my best to be as normal as possible to offset her eccentricities. Jack London’s not the only one in here named after a literary giant, you know.” She tapped her thumb against her chest.

“Harper…?” He blinked at her with his smile still in place. “What’s your full name?”

“Harper Lee.”

“Of course. I didn’t know that,” he said softly.