"Never mind. We can just sit here and enjoy the peace and quiet."
Several heartbeats passed. The fire popped. He sat rigid, staring at the flames as though searching for answers. Finally, he cleared his throat. "You're right. There's a reason I always have a lighter with me."
My breath caught. I hugged my arms over my knees, trying to hold in what little warmth I had left, and waited.
"My old man locked me in the tool shed when I was eight or nine … some bullshit punishment for something I can't even remember now. He said I needed to learn what fear tasted like. He was right about that much. I learned fear." He paused, his gaze never leaving the fire. "Dingoes howled behind the shed all night. Mice scurried across my bare feet in the pitch black. That darkness had teeth, and I spent hours believing a monster was coming for me." His voice was flat, matter-of-fact, as if he were talking about someone else's childhood.
"Oh, God, Mitch. I'm so sorry."
"So, I swore that night I'd never be stuck in the dark again."
I wanted to reach for him, to touch his arm or his hand, to offer some kind of comfort. But I didn't know if he'd want that.
Instead, I shifted closer, closing the gap between us by inches. "Well, I'm grateful you have that lighter or I'd be even colder."
He glanced at me, and a flash of vulnerability crossed his face before he looked away.
My heart was getting dangerous, beating too fast and too hard.
This man, who'd been a stranger yesterday, who I'd suspected of theft and worse, had just peeled back a layer I hadn't expected. I found myself wanting more … wanting to understand the scars he carried that went deeper than the ones I’d seen on his body.
It was insane. We'd been thrown together by circumstances that had nearly killed us both, and here I was, drawn to him like gravity had shifted in his direction.
My teeth started to chatter embarrassingly loud in the silence.
"You're shivering," Mitch said.
"I'm okay," I lied, wrapping my arms tighter around myself.
"Come here." He shifted, opening up the space in front of him.
"I'm fine."
"No, you're not." He put his hands on my shoulders and pulled me over his thigh. I dragged over his shirt to put my feet on again, and when I rested back against his chest, he wrapped his arms around me.
I stiffened. This was different from last night when I'd sat between his legs. Last night had been in the dark. With the crackling fire in front of me, this felt too intimate. My heart hammered against my ribs, and I couldn't tell if it was panic or something else entirely.
He pressed against my back, chasing away the cold that had burrowed deep.
My pulse raced as I slowly let myself lean into him.
"Warmer?" His breath was hot against my ear, sending a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold.
"Yes," I whispered. "Thanks."
I couldn't remember feeling this comfortable in a man's arms. The answer was never. This was different, the way he held me spoke of genuine care, not mere desire. My last boyfriend, Trent, had been another paleontology student. We'd spent so much time apart on different digs that our rare moments together turned frantic and desperate, two people racing toward physical release. But that was all it had ever been. Sex. Nothing more. Pure physicality without emotional connection. We'd never loved each other. When our relationship fizzled after eight months, neither of us felt the loss. Nothing compared to how Marcus had shattered my heart.
But this defied description. Something profound stirred between us, beyond words or reason. Which seemed insane, considering I barely knew Mitch.
"Will you relax?" It wasn't a question. It was a command, low and rumbling.
I forced my thoughts to quiet, and as my body sagged against him, all the tension drained out. His arms tightened fractionally, and I finally stopped shivering.
Yet as exhaustion dragged me closer to sleep, my thoughts circled relentlessly.
My career was over. Nobody would ever work with me again after this disaster. Would they believe Doug's death was an accident? Would they blame me? Would they blame Mitch? And had any of those precious dinosaur bones survived that flood?
The questions spiraled, and I couldn't stop them.