Frankie shivered. She’d been so caught up in their exploration that she hadn't noticed the temperature dropping. And the cold in northern Wisconsin was on another level than what she normally experienced.
As expected, they reached the truck in minutes and Frankie shivered as John turned the heater on high, the air warmed quickly and the heated seats were a godsend to her half-frozen backside. John grabbed the bag Maysie had packed for them. "Here. I'm sure there's something in there that will tide you over until we can make dinner."
He put the truck in drive and maneuvered forward, then came to an abrupt stop. He leaned both arms against the steering wheel and turned his magnetic gaze on her. "I can take you to the inn if you'd prefer." There was a long pause as she stared at him, catching her lower lip between her teeth. His gaze dipped to her mouth and darkened before moving back up to meet hers once again, only this time with a smoldering intensity. "Or you can stay at the cabin," he finally added, his even tone belying his smoky gaze.
"The cabin," Frankie answered without hesitation, her heart suddenly racing and voice breathy. A bolt of heat tore straight to her center.
His eyes flared wider and his mouth tipped to the side in a lopsided grin. With a nod, he continued down the road, the chains making a low crackle as they bit into the icy path.
Frankie continued to worry at her bottom lip, wondering if she'd made the wrong choice. She didn’t delude herself—there was no mistaking where they would end up tonight. She knew deep in her bones if she went back to his cabin, they would be in that glorious bed together. And she craved that in a way she never had before. It both frightened and excited her all at once.
The question was—would she regret this decision?
Chapter 7
They pulled up to the cabin and John put the truck in park. Silence reigned as they both stared out the windshield, neither moving, each in their own thoughts. John broke the spell by clearing his throat and unbuckling his seatbelt. "Are you ready to go in?"
Frankie nodded and gathered her bags, then opened the passenger door.
"Wait!" John shouted before jumping out.
A little grin tugged at her mouth as he practically flew around the front of the truck, holding his hand out to her. "I don't want you to slip. It looked a little slick when I drove up and you have to be especially careful on days like this. The sun will melt the snow and then it’ll refreeze in a layer that’s invisible but slippery as hell."
She huffed a soft laugh as she climbed down from the truck and leaned into him, feeling spoiled and protected. "Thanks, John." His fingers threaded through hers.
I could seriously get used to this.
"If you'd like, I'll let you take a shower first. I can get dinner started and I need to let Angus out," John said as he opened the front door. Angus's answering 'woof' brought a smile to both their faces. The dog padded over from his large pillow, his entire body wagging and his tail beating the air at their return.
"You're such a sweet boy," Frankie crooned, smoothing the fur back on his head which earned her a lick on her hand. "I'll take you up on that shower," she added to John. "I'll be fast, I promise."
"Take your time. I've gotta get this guy settled." John held the door for Angus. "Come on, boy."
Shivering, Frankie raced to the bathroom, stripped down and turned the water to its hottest setting. It would feel perfect after a day spent outdoors. It had been cold and exhausting but exhilarating at the same time. The education and practical experience in just one day with John had given her a wealth of information to share with her team.
She stepped under the water stream, moaning at the luxurious heat. But true to her word, she lathered up quickly and rinsed off, toweled dry, and dressed in a matter of minutes. She didn't want to waste one moment of her time with John.
Frankie smiled when she heard the front door close, a soft woof following it, and the deep, soothing murmur of John's voice. She applied a light application of mascara and a layer of lip gloss just to complete the picture, then fluffed her hair, styling it into a messy bun. She stared at herself in the mirror, noting the way her hazel eyes practically glowed green and the deep rosy hue of her cheeks. Wisconsin suited her.
She pulled on a loose red flannel over her tank top, leaving it unbuttoned, pairing it with her favorite pair of black yoga pants. It was the most comfortable clothing combination invented and perfect for an evening spent in a legitimate log cabin. Then she carried her bags into the bedroom, setting them on the largereading chair by the window. "I'm done in here," she called out. "You can get cleaned up."
"Okay." His voice drifted from the kitchen. "I'm starting this soup, then I'll hop in."
Add 'he cooks' to the list. Just makes him hotter.
She strolled to the living room, loving the pleasant image—a crackling fire in the hearth, Angus curled up on his pillow gnawing happily on a bone. Outside, the sunset glowed a brilliant red that streaked across the sky, perfectly contrasted with the snow that still clung to the evergreens in half-melted clumps. It looked like a winter wonderland. And it felt strangely like home.
She turned her gaze to John who was busy chopping an onion on a stout walnut cutting board. Lined up on the counter were potatoes, celery stalks, and carrots. He threw her a brief, heated glance before returning to the onion. There was a lot in just that one look, and it took her breath away.
But as she watched him prepping the vegetables, it dawned on her that in the amount of time it took her to shower, he'd walked Angus, built a fire in the hearth, and started dinner. And that was after an all-day hike of how many kilometers? Was there anything this man couldn't do?
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Nah. I’m almost done here.” He dumped the chopped vegetables into the soup, seasoned it, and dropped a lid on the pot. Wiping his hands on a kitchen towel, he threw her a grin. "I'll hop in the shower now. This will be ready in an hour or so."
"Take your time." She held up her grandmother's journal. "I'll just read for a bit and make some notes about today’s hike while it's still fresh."
With a nod, he left her alone. Moments later, a whoosh from the bathroom told Frankie that the shower had started. Her imagination immediately kicked on, as steamy as the waterthat poured from those jets. Biting her lip, she pictured his naked body beneath the hot spray, practically whimpering at the mental image as heat pooled in her belly. She gave herself a firm shake.
