We pull away from the curb, and I watch in the rearview mirror as the man finally looks up. For just a second, our eyes meet across the distance, and I see recognition flash across his face.
Then we're around the corner, and he's gone.
"Well, that was subtle," Maya says, her voice tight with tension.
"Subtle wasn't the goal. Alive was the goal."
She's quiet for a moment, then reaches over and turns on the radio. The local weather report crackles through the speakers, and what I hear makes my jaw clench.
"Major storm system moving in tonight," the announcer says. "Expecting twelve to eighteen inches of snow with winds up to forty miles per hour. Residents in mountain areas should prepare for possible power outages and road closures. This could rival the blizzard we had three weeks ago."
Maya and I exchange a look.
"The one where I almost died in your yard?" I ask.
"That would be the one." She chews her bottom lip, and I have to force myself to focus on the road instead of how much I want to pull over and kiss her.
The drive back up the mountain is quiet, both of us lost in our own thoughts. The sky is already darkening, clouds rolling in thick and heavy. By the time we reach the cabin, the first flakes are starting to fall.
"All right," Maya says, climbing out of the truck. "Let's get this place ready."
We spend the next couple of hours fortifying the cabin. I check every window seal while Maya organizes supplies. The work is familiar and comfortable, and I find myself relaxing into it despite the tension of the day.
"Hand me that hammer," I call from where I'm reinforcing the back door frame.
She tosses it to me, and I catch it one-handed. When I look up, she's watching me with an expression that makes heat pool in my gut. Her gaze travels over my shoulders, down to where my thermal shirt pulls tight across my chest, and lower still.
"See something you like?" I ask, unable to resist.
Color floods her cheeks, but she doesn't look away. "Maybe. You're very distracting when you're being all handy and competent."
"Am I?" I set down the hammer and move toward her, backing her against the kitchen counter. "How distracting?"
"Very." Her hands come up to rest on my chest, and even through the fabric, her touch burns. "We should probably focus on the storm preparations."
"Probably." But I'm leaning down anyway, my mouth finding hers in a kiss that starts soft and quickly turns hungry.
When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard.
"Okay," she says, her voice rough. "Maybe a small break from storm prep."
I grin and kiss her again, slower this time, savoring it. My hands slide down to grip her hips, and she makes this small sound in the back of her throat that goes straight to my cock.
"Sasha," she murmurs against my lips, I guess coming to her senses. "The storm."
"Right. The storm." I force myself to step back, putting distance between us before I say to hell with preparations and carry her to bed. "We should finish."
We get back to work, but the atmosphere has shifted. There's a playfulness now, a lightness that wasn't there before. She steals glances at my ass when she thinks I'm not looking. I catch her staring at my arms when I'm carrying firewood.
"You know," I say, stacking wood by the fireplace, "if you want to touch, you don't have to ask."
"I'm not touching anything." But she's smiling that full, genuine smile that transforms her face.
She throws a dish towel at me, and I catch it, laughing. The sound surprises me. When was the last time I laughed like this? Before the amnesia? Ever?
By late afternoon, the cabin is as ready as we can make it. The snow is falling heavily now, thick flakes that stick to everything they touch. The wind has picked up, howling through the trees with a sound that's almost alive.
Maya stands at the window, watching the storm build. I move up behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her back against my chest. She fits there perfectly, all soft curves against hard muscle.