Under the Northern Lights(20)

“Need to pee,” I muttered, standing.

Michael’s hand shifted to point at something on the table. “Take a flashlight. And a pistol. You never know what might be waiting in the dark.” Immediately after he said it, he put his hands on the side of the basin and shifted his weight like he was going to get up. “Maybe I should go with you.”

Shielding my eyes, I told him, “I’m fine. I can handle peeing in the woods without an escort.” What I couldn’t handle was him standing in the tub, showing me all the delicious things I’d pictured. Jesus, what had I been saying earlier about being mature?

When I peeked over at Michael, I saw him relaxing back into the basin. A relieved sigh escaped me. Thank you, God. If he’d stepped out of the tub, I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself from openly staring, and both of us would have been mortified. Possibly me more than him.

Michael had cut me a new stick to use as a crutch. He’d set it by the couch before leaving for the day so getting up and around—if I’d absolutely needed to—would be easier. Grabbing it from its resting place, I hobbled over to the table to pick up the flashlight.

I was on my way to get the pistol hanging on a holster attached to the wall when Michael’s voice broke the silence. “Damn it . . .” When I looked back at him, he cringed. “I don’t suppose you could do me a favor before you go?”

He was still mostly hidden from view, but now that I was in front of him, I could see the defined muscles of his chest. It was distracting, to say the least. “What?” I asked, annoyed at myself that I couldn’t be in the same room with a naked man without having steamy thoughts about him.

Face still remorseful, he pointed to the long counter with shelves beneath it. “I forgot the soap. It’s in one of those bins.”

My hand tightened around the flashlight. I’d have to get really close to give it to him. Unless I just tossed it. A resigned sigh escaped me. No, I would be an adult and hand it to him. This was already awkward enough; no need to make it worse. Tossing on a smile that felt tight to me, I said, “Sure,” and set about looking for the soap.

“And a washcloth,” he added.

Gritting my teeth, I told him, “No problem,” then shuffled over to the bins. With his help, I found everything quickly enough. Eyes downcast, I hobbled over to him. When I got close enough, I extended my hand in what I thought was his direction; even though resisting the temptation was torture, I still wasn’t looking his way.

I felt his wet, warm fingers close over mine, and my eyes ignored my instructions and snapped to his. “Thank you,” he quietly said as he pulled the cloth and soap from my grasp. His eyes were so captivating that even though I knew I’d only need to look down a few inches to see . . . everything . . . I couldn’t. I was ensnared.

“You’re welcome,” I whispered. Then I spun on my heel and quickly limped away before I lost all control. And for once, the frigid air of the outdoors was welcome on my heated skin.





Chapter Seven

A couple of days after the bath incident, my ankle was finally strong enough to support my weight. I still had to be careful so I didn’t accidentally reinjure it, but walking around on two legs instead of hobbling around on one was such a blessing.

It also gave me the opportunity to help out more. Something Michael objected to at first. “I’ve been handling doing everything around here for years. You should keep resting.”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I told him, “No, I’ve rested enough. Now I need to start helping. You said it yourself that you hadn’t planned on feeding two people this winter. You have more important things to do than collect water and chop firewood.”

He looked like he wanted to keep arguing with me, but he knew as well as I did that I was right. I was needed outside helping, not inside slowly going stir crazy. “Okay, fine. I need to start setting traps anyway.”

“Traps?” I asked, inclining my head.

He ran a hand through his thick beard as he nodded. “Yeah, I need cash for the supplies I buy a couple times a year. Selling fur and leather is about the only thing I can do to make money around here. I can’t exactly open a pizza place.”

“Or a doctor’s office,” I said with a smile.

His grin slipped at the mention of the word doctor, so I quickly changed the subject. “Anything I should know? Any words of wisdom?”

He walked over to me and handed me my rifle. “Keep this on you at all times. The bears might still be foraging for winter. They can be on you before you know it.”

That was smart advice, one I followed when I went out to take photographs. Man, I would be almost halfway through my trip right now if my plane hadn’t gone down. But now . . .

Michael was studying my face as I slung the rifle over my shoulder. “You okay? Your expression changed.”

Knowing that his expression changed all the time and he rarely explained himself made me feel a little stubborn. I pushed the feeling away, though, and opened up to him. Maybe he would do the same if I set a good example. Or if he felt closer to me—and nothing had a way of binding people together like sharing pain. “I just . . . the thought of being out here for so long . . .” I stopped to sigh. “I just really miss my family.”

His face grew contemplative. “I understand. This kind of life . . . isn’t for everyone.”