“Aye, on account of all the sawdust,” he quipped, running his finger along the workbench to demonstrate. “I’d apologise, only I don’t usually rent this place out to city girls.”
Without invitation, she floated up and away, through the tiny hallway that led to the one, lonely bedroom.
“Please, let me show you around,” he muttered sarcastically before following her. In the doorway, she stopped, pursing her lips at the untouched single bed. He’d built it himself, his first practice project, but she didn’t need to know that. Luckily, the sheets were fresh, and only slightly wrinkled from Bernard’s heavy paws. “The dog sleeps on it more than I do. It’s rare I stay here.”
“It’s not too bad,” she said uncertainly. “But what about the wild animals outside? Will I wake up surrounded by wolves?”
He couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. “As long as you lock the gate, you’ll be okay. The wolves only come out on a full moon, anyway.”
Her eyes bulged, face leaching of colour. He would have felt bad if it wasn’t so funny. He leaned against the doorjamb, very aware that he was at least a foot taller than her. Defiantly, she tipped her chin to glare up at him. “You’re hilarious, making jokes at my expense. If you knew the kind of day I’ve had – the kind ofmonthI’ve had, even – you wouldn’t be laughing!”
He rolled his eyes, not quite curious enough to ask what she meant, but still curious enough that the words lingered in his mind. “I’m offering you a place to stay. Take it or leave it.”
She tilted her head, still weighing it up. He wasn’t sure what there was left to weigh. Clearly, it was here or nowhere. “Is there plumbing?”
“Wouldn’t recommend using the shower unless you like it cold, and you might need to double-flush the bog, but aye, it’s functional.”
“Great to know when I’m covered in dirt.” Still, she finally dipped her head in acceptance. “All right, I’ll stay. Just for the night.” She rubbed her arms.
Fraser grabbed one of his wrinkled spare jumpers from the old dresser and offered it out. He took a much more worn flannel to replace his soaked T-shirt. “Gets chilly at night. Help yourself to anything you find. I’ll go and chop some wood, get a fire going.” He made to leave, then stopped when he realised he still didn’t know her name. “I’m Fraser, by the way.”
“Harper.” She swallowed, looking lost in his little room with his big jumper in her hands. “Thank you so much for this. I’m really sorry, again, for… breaking and entering, I guess.”
“I’ve had worse trespassers.” With that, he clicked for Bernard to join him and headed back out into the drizzle to chop the firewood.
As he worked, he pretended not to feel her eyes trained on him from the window. Pretended that he wasn’t perhaps putting more effort into his heavy-handed chops than usual.
4
Regret left Harper stiff and uncertain as her grumpy new host – Fraser – left the cabin. The impending silence crept over her, carrying with it all the choices that had led her here. This trip was supposed to begoodfor her. Productive.Healing.There was nothing healing about standing in a stranger’s lacklustre bedroom clad in muddy clothes.
Before one of her usual self-pity parties could kick off – a common occurrence since being dumped – she squeezed her eyes closed and tried to soothe her nerves.It’s fine, Harper. You’ll just check in to a B&B tomorrow, and everything will be fine.
It didn’tfeelfine, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. Again. She only wished she had better control over her own life. Could stop being so winded when it dragged her down an unexpected, circuitous path. She’d bet anything that Kenzie’s new girlfriend, a flawless, glossy realtor with over ten thousand followers on Instagram, wouldn’t spend her holiday moping. For starters, she would have had a private car waiting to whisk her away at a moment’s notice, but that wasn’t the point.
We’re just at different stages of our lives, Kenzie had said on the day she upheaved Harper’s, as though she wasn’t only five years older than Harper and working practically the same job.You’re still figuring stuff out, but I know exactly what I want. I need someone I don’t have to worry about all the time. Somebody with the same confidence and drive.
Harper didn’t think she’d ever be that person. Her confidence would always be a work-in-progress, boosted only when she was accomplishing something, and she’d long since hit a dead end in her marketing career. The only thing she was driven to do at present was to hide under a rock like a teensy woodlouse and never emerge.
Kenzie had apparently found that confident, driven, perfect woman not a week later in the form of a long-legged, pencil-skirt-wearing older lady with her own real estate company. Harper had at least hoped that showcasing her Scottish adventure would prompt Kenzie to reconsider her choices, but that was down the drain now. There would be no Instagram posts tonight. No homemade dinner or yummy boxes of locally baked shortbread to show off. Not even a brilliant view, since the cabin’s windows were stained with moss.
“Stop it,” Harper scolded herself. Finally, she peeled off her jacket and jumper, grimacing at the stench of drying muck. First things first, she needed her suitcase. As nice as Fraser was for lending her the grey sweatshirt, she would feel much more comfortable in her own clothes. Maybe later, she would even risk the cold shower to wash away the grime. It would be very daring of her. Very brave.
Very awful.
Shuddering at the cool air on her bare skin, she tugged the jumper on quickly. The thick material hung comfortably loose, which was a relief. She was often too big to borrow clothes. The jumper carried the earthy scent of the forest, but also the faint, welcome smell of deoderant and human sweat, something she had never appreciated until being deserted in the wilderness. She pressed the collar to her nose, inhaling more of it, of him, in an attempt to calm herself, as mint and sandalwood wrapped around her. She tried not to think about how she was smellinghim, how this material had curled tightly around those tattooed muscles, but of course, not thinking about it was still thinking about it, and she had to force herself to stop.
She should have been better than this. He was just a man, for god’s sake. Her taste as a bisexual woman could usually be defined as “all women and Henry Cavill provided he’s sporting the right haircut”, with the exception of the love interests in her favourite romance books, which didn’t count, as they were almost always written by women.
Maybe it was good, though, to feel this attraction for a stranger again. She hadn’t in a long time, and it would certainly keep her mind off Kenzie. Maybe it was a sign she could move on. Not with him, of course – he was far too standoffish and blunt, and she doubted she was his type – but withsomeone.
With that in mind, she dared to set foot out of the bedroom, and then the cabin, to retrieve her suitcase.
It was a mistake.
Fraser was a few feet from the cabin door, standing over the chopping block. He was working with a strength she’d never witnessed before, the hilt of the axe wrapped in his thick hands as he lifted it into the air.Her eyes were glued to the muscles of his back, rippling beneath his shirt, as he slammed hard into the wood sitting atop the block. The log split with a mightythwackthat ricocheted through the forest, and something unexpectedly carnal inside her pulsed in unison.
He continued cutting, turning around the block as he went, so that she saw him from all sides. His heavy knuckles, white around the wooden hilt. The way his damp T-shirt rode higher, exposing the low waistband of his jeans and the V-lines of his abdomen. The rough gasps falling from him with each movement, and the way he swore when the axe buried itself into a tough, defiant log.
