I’ve never considered myself a delicate man, nor did I ever think I’d want to be, but the effortless way this female Alpha handles me sends a molten pull straight through my hips.
Emily strides back to the counter, pulling open a cabinet. Within seconds, she has a rechargeable lantern in hand and a box of matches tucked between her fingers.
“Who knows how long the grid will be down,” she mutters, flicking the lantern’s switch. Nothing happens. Her brow furrows, and she pops open the battery compartment, inspecting it in the weak light.
“There are some candles over by the desk,” I say, pointing.
She sets down the lantern and moves to find them. She returns with a handful and arranges them on the table, lighting each one until the cabin glows with soft, uneven light.
Emily turns to the dead fireplace. “All right, let’s get you heat that doesn’t rely on the grid.”
She kneels on the hearth and tugs the screen aside, checking inside before heading for the wood box by the door.
“I appreciate your help.” I tug the blanket closer, the air cooling with the heater now out. “Fire-building isn’t exactly in my skill set. I’d have been sitting here freezing until Kyle came home.”
“I’ll teach you next time,” she murmurs as she arranges kindling and logs.
She crumples paper into loose knots, creates a bed of pencil-thin sticks, then lays two small logs crosswise on top.
“Did your gran teach you this, too?” I ask, because talking is easier than admitting how the sight of her in this intimate setting fills me with an ache for a different kind of warmth than can be found by a fire.
“Roofing crews and cold winters,” she says as she strikes a match. “Old habits stick.”
Flame blooms along the paper, scurries into thekindling, and the little logs take with a low rush. She settles the screen back into place, adjusting the vent until the fire burns steadily.
Warmth pushes out, chasing away the chill. Emily lingers in a crouch, studying the burn, and a barely audible rumble rises from her chest, like a cat purr translated through a human throat. It vibrates the air more than it does my ears.
An Alpha’s comfort, my brain supplies. The realization knocks me a little stupid, and I clutch the blanket over my groin harder.
She stands and brushes her palms on her jeans, then crosses to the sofa. “Feet up.”
“I don’t need…” I trail off when she ignores me, tugging a second blanket from a nearby basket and tucking it over my calves.
“The cold will stiffen up your knee.” The rumble lingers under her words. “Best to keep it warm instead of pretending it’s fine.”
“Iamfine,” I lie, my face as hot as the fire. “This is—you didn’t have to?—”
“I wanted to,” she says, then crouches by the hearth again to add one more log. Sparks climb the flue.
My knee eases, and the ache in my hip loosens. Emily is all competence and quiet strength,silhouetted by the flicker of flames, and I snuggle down into the cushions.
I should be careful. It would be too easy to grow used to this.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Emily
The water taxi heaves beneath us, iron-gray waves slapping the hull while rain drums a steady rhythm on the metal roof.
I shift on the bench, the cold metal sending vibrations from the engines through my body, and I move closer to the open side of the boat to put some distance between me and Jared.
With the inclement weather, he had decided to sit back with the crew and not distract his cousin at the wheel. And despite how I’ve been a complete ass to him, he chose the section of the bench right next to me.
The boat lists to port, and Jared’s knee knocks mine, sending warmth spreading up my thigh. His pheromones mingle with the sharp bite of diesel,salt air and driftwood, both clean and wild. It settles into my lungs with each breath, uninvited but not unwelcome.
I stare through the rain-spattered clear plastic that had been lowered to block the angry spray, watching the world blur past. The island draws closer, tall pines and rocky shores rising from the steel-colored water, while the wake fans out behind us, white froth cutting through the dark surface.
Jared clears his throat beside me. “Another perfect day to be working outside.”