She gulped. She had never imagined woodcutting would be so erotic before, but he groaned like he was—
Nope. Nope, nope, nope. Do not go there, Harper.
Still, she squeezed her thighs together at the unexpected tingle.
Bernard drew her attention away from the display in front of her, jumping up to scrape his paws down her jeans as though pleading for some love. She stroked the top of his head with a chuckle, finally alerting Fraser to her presence. At least he hadn’t caught her ogling him.
“Bernard, down,” he ordered with a sharp click of his fingers.
“It’s okay. I had a Labrador when I was younger, so I’m used to big dogs.”
Fraser nodded, his eyes lingering for a moment. She tugged at the borrowed jumper, self-conscious and unable to hide it now she was in someone else’s clothes.“I’m just going to grab my suitcase. I left it around the corner.”
“I’d better help.” He threw the axe onto the block, kicking aside the chopped logs. “Just give me a minute to set the fire up.”
“Iamcapable of getting it.” Even if she couldn’t quite remember where she’d abandoned it. He didn’t need to know that, and he certainly didn’t need to think of her the way Kenzie did: a damsel in distress, always a cause of worry.
He raised a brow and motioned her forwards. “All right, then. Just be careful of the wolves. And use the gate this time.”
She glared in response to his blatantly teasing tone.
“Ha-bloody-ha.” She shoved past him, but still looked both ways before opening the gate and treading back into the forest. Just in case.
A screech tore through the cabin. Beside Fraser, Bernard’s ears perked into points of concern.
Fraser muttered, “Told you,” into the fireplace. It didn’t bring him much joy to see a woman having what was clearly an awful time, but he’d been expecting this reaction when she’d adamantly claimed she needed to take a shower to wash off the dirt. It was just a good thing he was setting up a fire for her, otherwise she’d be hypothermic come morning. He’d built this cabin himself only to provide respite from work. It wasn’t well-insulated, though it warmed up better since installing the fireplace.Still, he was fairly certain a city girl hoping for a luxurious rental lodge wouldn’t take to the minimalist surroundings, unless she was keen on “budget glamping”, as his younger sister, Cam, had once called it.
After lighting the fresh cut logs, setting a steady amber glow flickering through the front room, he stood up on tired legs and trudged to his portable kettle set up at a counter opposite the bathroom door. As he flicked it on to boil, the sound of the shower stopped and the door abruptly swung open.
He tried to look away in time. He really, really tried. But he hadn’t been expecting her to just… emerge like that in his grey towel. His gaze couldn’t help but fall on her rounded shoulders, the generous swell of her breasts, the way her cleavage peeped out from the knotted towel and goosebumps dotted her pale, bare skin.
“Fuck,” he muttered, turning away quickly. “A wee bit of warning would have been nice!”
“I didn’t take you to be such a prude.” Her bare feet padded quickly into the bedroom. “That bathroom might as well be outside. It’s freezing!”
He rolled his eyes. Had she already forgotten that this wasn’t actually supposed to be a bloody guest house? “Do you drink tea or coffee?” he called instead, flexing his fingers impatiently. He was supposed to be getting in his last jobs for the day, and the pressure of losing those precious hours was smothering him. He needed to be out of here and at his youngest sister Eiley’s house in the next hour, otherwise he’d miss his nephew’s first parent-teacher conference.As a newly single mum of three, Eiley struggled turning up to these things alone.
“Tea, please!” Harper shouted. “Wait. Is it Yorkshire Tea?”
Fraser shook his head, staring despairingly into the small tin of teabags he kept by the kettle. Most of them he’d stolen from Cam’s place, not needing enough to warrant buying his own pack. She likely picked the cheapest ones she could find on the supermarket shelf.
“Aye, of course,” he lied, then plopped the teabag in a mug before she could argue.
She emerged a few moments later, hair wrapped in a towel on her head as she stared down at her phone. “Still no signal. Are there any hotspots around here?”
“If you drive about an hour that way to Glasgow,” he replied, pointing out the window.
She sighed, slumping onto the couch and stroking Bernard. She wore thick leggings and a chunky-knit, high-necked jumper the same shade of mustard as the leaves outside, with woolly socks on her feet. “My mum is going to start telling her Facebook friends that I’m missing soon.”
Fraser hummed, not terribly interested – or at least, trying not to be. His skin prickled at the sight of her in his space, the smell of his cheap sea salt and eucalyptus soap clinging to her skin. It felt odd, having a stranger so enveloped in his cabin, his life, his bloody scent. He tried to mask the unease by bringing the mugs of tea over to the coffee table, a round redwood project he’d never had the time to varnish.
“What about food? Is there somewhere to cook here? A microwave?” she asked after thanking him, palms curling around the steaming mug.
He shook his head. “Only the kettle. Hope you like Pot Noodles.” Suddenly, letting her stay felt like an even worse idea than it had originally. He couldn’t just leave her here without feeding her, but he didn’t have bloody time to take her into town.
He huffed, scratching his five o’clock shadow with sore, calloused fingers. “You’re going to make me take you out for scran now, aren’t you?”
“I only have half a packet of salt and vinegar crisps in my handbag,” she admitted, wincing. “The lodge was supposed to provide a self-catering hamper.”
