by Zoe Chant
Even so, the words stuck in her throat.
Pick up your sword, Emily ordered herself. Slay that dragon!
“Can I give you my phone number?” She finished speaking just as the key turned in the lock. The click sounded very loud in the silence that fell.
Gabriel looked down at her, his deep blue eyes wide with surprise. Then that startlingly sweet smile lit up his face. “Yeah. Yeah, absolutely! I was going to ask for yours, but I thought I’d wait until we were out of the snow.” Then he looked doubtful. “You did mean for a date, right?”
Emily felt her own icy face crack into an equally startled grin. “I absolutely meant for a date. Are we on?”
“We’re on,” Gabriel promised her. As he spoke, his voice dropped to a sexy rumble, sending a thrill of heat along her nerves. His eyes no longer reminded her of a sunny sky, but of blue fire.
Emily swallowed, excited and delighted and nervous, all at once. Everything was moving so fast. It was what she’d wanted—what she’d barely dared to hope for—but it felt too good to be true.
Gabriel opened the door and stepped inside. When he kicked it shut behind him, the sound of the howling wind suddenly cut off. He turned on the lights, and Emily squinted, dazzled. It took a moment for her ears to adjust to the quiet and her eyes to seeing something other than Gabriel and blowing snow. Once she did, she saw that they were in the living room of a cozy cabin.
Emily had been in ranger stations before, as part of tours of national parks. She knew what they looked like. They had computers and radios and desks, not sofas and fireplaces. “This isn’t the ranger station.”
“No, it’s my cabin,” Gabriel replied. “The ranger station isn’t in walking distance. Once the storm’s over, I can drive you there in my snowmobile.”
He gently set her down, his hands lingering on her shoulders as if he didn’t want to let her go. Emily didn’t want him to let her go either, but was too nervous to catch his hands and keep them there. After a moment, he released her, went to the fireplace, and knelt to light it, giving her a great look at the bulging muscles of his shoulders. Crackling flames sprang up, casting a flickering orange light and giving off a faint, pleasant scent of smoke.
She came forward to stand beside him and be warmed by the flames. Then she caught sight of the little carved animals that lined the mantelpiece over the fireplace. Charmed, she examined the wooden menagerie. A family of playful chipmunks, a rearing grizzly bear with a salmon in its mouth, a pair of mischievous foxes, a crow perched on a log, a scampering field mouse...
“I love your collection,” Emily said.
“Thanks,” Gabriel said. “This set is animals that live in Blue Oak.”
“This set?” Emily echoed. “There’s more? Where did you get them?”
“I made them. The furniture, too. It’s my hobby.”
“What!” She stared at the animals, then at the wooden table and chairs. Now that Gabriel had told her, she could see that they had all been made with the same strong, clean lines. She picked up a sleeping raccoon, cleverly carved so a darker streak in the wood formed its mask, and stroked the silky wood. “Do you ever sell them? I bet people would pay a lot for them.”
Gabriel shook his head. “I’m not much of a salesman. When I have too many for the mantelpiece, I give some away. In fact, I’m starting to get too many now. Do you have a favorite?”
“Ooh, I can have one?” Delighted, Emily looked at them again. They were all so appealing, from the humor of a roly-poly mole to the grace of a stalking cougar, it was hard to decide.
Then she spotted one that had been placed off to the side, so she hadn’t seen it before. The beast had the powerfully muscled legs and tufted tail of a lion, and the broad wings and head of an eagle. The griffin was carved in exquisite detail, every feather individually cut, its sharp beak open in such a lifelike pose that she could almost hear its fierce cry. Its wide eyes seemed to stare straight into hers.
Once she saw it, she couldn’t look at anything else. Emily picked it up, fascinated, and turned it over in her hands. “This one sure doesn’t live in Blue Oak!”
Gabriel shot her an odd look. “No. It’s a griffin. A mon—a—well, it’s not a real animal.”
A hot tide of blood rose to her face. She just hoped her skin was too dark to show a blush. Not only had Gabriel not thought her silly joke was even a little bit funny, he hadn’t even noticed that she was making one. She wished she hadn’t said anything about unidentified flying things. It must have given him the impression she was the kind of flake who believed in aliens and fairies. And griffins.
“A mythical creature,” Emily said hastily. “Half-lion, half-eagle. I read about them in high school, I think. In a Greek mythology book. Funny what crazy stuff people used to believe in. Can you imagine living in a world where people actually thought things like that were flying around? I’m surprised they had the nerve to leave their homes, if they thought monsters like that were waiting to munch them!”
Gabriel still didn’t smile. Instead, his stunning blue eyes went bleak with a sudden sadness.
Emily suppressed a groan. She’d babbled too much, and made an even worse impression. He was obviously wishing he’d never flirted with her. Just her luck: she met a kind, brave, sexy guy who actually liked her, and she screwed it all up by opening her mouth. Wishing she’d never noticed the griffin, she put it back on the mantelpiece, behind the grizzly bear so she wouldn’t have to see it.
As if that had worked some kind of magic, once the griffin was out of sight, Gabriel spoke in the kind tones he’d used when he’d lifted her in his arms. “You must be freezing. Why don’t you take a shower? I’ll give you some clothes to change into.”
“Sure, thanks.”
Emily followed him past the small kitchen and the even smaller bathroom, and waited in the doorway while he went into his bedroom. That was small too, but the bed was big. It would have to be, to fit him. She recognized his carpentry style now, and knew that he’d made it himself. The frame and posts were a light wood with a golden sheen, polished till it seemed to almost glow. Her attention kept getting drawn to it while he rummaged in his closet, not just for its beautiful craftsmanship but because she kept imagining him lying in it. Did he sleep in pajamas, or underwear, or in the nude?
She imagined his strong body sprawled out naked on it, his light skin contrasting with the forest green blankets. And then, unable to stop herself, she imagined herself nude with him, running her hands over his rough stubble and hard muscles...
“Got something for you.” Gabriel held out a blue cotton shirt and a length of cord that she guessed had come off a bathrobe. “Maybe you could tie it around the waist and make it into a dress? A shirt dress?”
Startled, Emily laughed. “Where in the world did you hear about shirt dresses?”
“I live in Blue Oak, but I wasn’t born in it and I do leave sometimes,” Gabriel pointed out. “I shop at supermarkets. I see magazines.”
“‘Fifteen Fashion-Forward Fall Frocks?’” Emily teased, holding her fingers up to make headline quotes.
He promptly held up his own fingers. “‘Sixteen Sexy Spring Shirt Dresses.’”
Emily laughed as she took the shirt and cord from him, then retreated into the bathroom. There she gratefully stripped off her cold, damp clothes, then stepped into the shower. The hot water felt wonderful, flowing over her like streamers of warm silk. As she washed herself, she became conscious of the touch of her own hands on her body, and wished they were Gabriel’s hands.
Would he ever touch her? Had he been serious when he’d said he’d planned to ask her out? And if he had meant it, had she ruined it by babbling?
She was still wondering as she dried herself off on his towels, and put on his shirt. Belting it with the bathrobe cord did make it into a sort of shirt dress, falling a bit above her knees. It wasn’t exactly what she’d have chosen for a date, but it was soft against her skin. And though it was clean, it still carried a faint
scent of Gabriel. Wearing it felt very intimate.
When Emily opened the bathroom door, she was greeted by the scent and sound of sizzling meat. She was suddenly reminded that the last time she’d eaten had been that morning, when she’d grabbed a quick donut and cup of bad coffee before getting in her car. She hadn’t stopped for lunch because she’d wanted to be off the road before nightfall, and had planned for an early dinner. But it was no longer early, and now that she smelled food, she was incredibly hungry.
She walked barefoot across the hardwood floor, and found Gabriel putting platters of food on the table. He’d changed out of his damp clothes too, and now wore black pants and a black T-shirt that showed off his arm muscles. His hair had dried into appealingly tousled locks that made her long to run her fingers through them.
“You look beautiful,” Gabriel said, looking her up and down with unashamed appreciation. “Perfect first date dress.”
Emily was torn between amusement at his joke, relief that she hadn’t ruined everything after all, and the desire to kiss him, immediately. “First date, huh?”
He smiled, making quivers of excitement run up and down her nerves. “I’d take you to a restaurant, but I’d have to use the snowmobile and that didn’t seem quite glamorous enough.”
“Come on, there’s nothing more glamorous than a snowmobile,” Emily returned, then sank into her chair.
The table was laden with steaks with perfect char marks, mashed potatoes, and honey-glazed carrots. And a bottle of red wine.
“You made all that when I was in the shower?” Emily asked, impressed.
He nodded. “Living out here, you have to learn to fend for yourself. I fixed the vegetables earlier. I make stuff like that in big batches, then freeze it. I hope you like it. I don’t get a chance to cook for other people much.”
“It looks fantastic. Thanks for cooking for me.”
Of the few men she’d dated, some had given her dirty looks when she ate, like she had no right to eat. Like her curvy body was some kind of crime. They hadn’t gotten a second date. But it had made her a little nervous about eating in front of men. There was always that moment when she didn’t know how they were going to react.
Gabriel frowned as her hand hovered over the serving spoon for the mashed potatoes. Her heart sank. He’d seemed so sweet and funny, but was he another one of those men who thought women ought to live on air?
“If you don’t like mashed potatoes, I could defrost something else I made,” Gabriel offered. “I have mac and cheese. Or creamed corn.”
Even more high-calorie! He definitely wasn’t one of those diet-or-die types.
“Oh, no, it wasn’t that,” Emily assured him, piling mashed potatoes on her plate. “It’s just that some men don’t like to see women eating.”
Gabriel looked bewildered. “Why wouldn’t they?”
“You obviously didn’t read any of those magazines you spotted when you were in the checkout line with your potatoes,” she replied. “Women are supposed to be skinny, don’t you know? And whether they are or not, they should diet and feel guilty about eating anything but lettuce.”
“Any man who has a problem with women enjoying their food is a jerk and a hypocrite,” Gabriel said. “I don’t feel guilty about eating, so why should you? And I’m not skinny.”
“No, you sure aren’t.” Her gaze once more traveled admiringly over his strong body.
“And I like women with curves,” he added. “You’re gorgeous exactly as you are. Have more mashed potatoes.”
She laughed. “I haven’t even started on what I have on my plate.”
“Better get going, then,” he said with a grin.
She applied herself to the food, enjoying it even more with the knowledge that she not only wasn’t being judged, but Gabriel clearly liked watching her eat the dinner he’d cooked for her. The steak was tender and juicy, the carrots were sweet and lightly spiced with ginger, and the mashed potatoes were rich with butter. The wine was the perfect accompaniment.
“Everything is delicious. You cook, you make furniture, you—” She caught herself, not wanting to mention the carved animals in case she reminded him of that weird awkward moment with the wooden griffin. “—you rescue people. Is there anything you can’t do?”
“I can’t sew you a dress, so you’re stuck with my shirts till the snow stops. I can’t fit into a lot of cars. And—” A sad look briefly shadowed his face, before he made a visible effort to wipe it off. “—and I can’t take photographs.”
Emily was sure that hadn’t been what he’d been thinking of when he’d cut himself off, but she said, “Not even with a cell phone?”
“They always come out with my thumb blocking whatever I was trying to get a shot of. I think my hands are too big.” Gabriel lifted her hand, sending a thrill of desire through her at even that simple touch. “Now yours are just right.”
Emily found it hard to concentrate on anything but the feeling of his warm hand engulfing hers. On autopilot, she said, “Once I thought of becoming a wilderness photographer.”
“Once? What happened?” Gabriel sounded genuinely interested.
“Life.” Emily didn’t want to sound bitter, but it still stung. “I couldn’t make enough money, and I had to pay the rent. Not just mine. When I was seven, my parents were in a car crash. My father was killed, and my mother hurt her back. She’s never been able to work much since. She did her best when I was a kid, because she had no other choice, but it was really hard for her. Now I support her.”
“That’s good of you.”
“She’s my mother, and I love her. What else would I do?”
A silence fell, but it seemed thoughtful and companionable rather than awkward. Emily polished off her mashed potatoes, reached for the serving spoon, then hesitated. She’d already eaten a lot...
Gabriel served her another helping. “No dieting in my cabin.”
“Thanks. So how did you end up here? Did you always want to be a park ranger?”
“Not exactly.” Gabriel had never let go of her hand; she ate with her right while he held her left, listening to his deep voice fill the stillness of the cabin. “I—”
Once again, he broke off, clearly trying to think of something before he spoke again. What in the world was he hiding? Emily was dying to ask him to just spit it out. It was obviously something that made him unhappy, which nixed her thought that maybe he was famous and just wanted to lead a quiet life. But he seemed sincerely kind. And he’d saved her life. She was positive he was a good guy.
Had he been a doctor who’d tried and failed to save a patient? A soldier who’d tried and failed to save a buddy? The victim of a crime or accident that still haunted him?
“I always loved the wilderness,” Gabriel finally said. “Before this, I was a lighthouse keeper on an island off Alaska. It was beautiful. But lonely. I was there for three years, and the only person I saw in the entire time was the guy who flew in to deliver my supplies. I thought it wouldn’t matter to me. But it did.”
Emily squeezed his hand. “Why’d you think it wouldn’t matter?”
He looked right into her eyes, for once not trying to hide his sadness. “Well, I was always going to be alone anyway.”
At that, she couldn’t stop herself. “Why in the world would you think that?”
“I—”
He stopped, but this time Emily didn’t let him fill in some true but evasive answer. She hadn’t gotten to be a reporter by letting people avoid her questions, and she wasn’t going to let Gabriel sit there alone behind a wall he’d built himself, when she was right there with him.
“I know you’re hiding something,” she said. His hand tensed over hers, but she plowed on. “Why don’t you just tell me? I’m a reporter, remember? I’ve heard lots of secrets. And you know what most of them have in common? The person with the secret has been sitting on it for so long that they’ve convinced themselves that if anyone else finds out, they’ll be shocked and horrified. But most
secrets are only shocking and horrifying to the person who has them. To other people, they’re just... a thing that happened.”
Gabriel couldn’t meet her eyes. His voice dropped to a low rumble as he muttered, “Mine isn’t just a thing that happened.”
“Well, I still bet it’s nowhere near as bad as you imagine.” Emily laid her hand on his shoulder. His muscles were steel-hard with tension. “Come on, Gabriel. Try me.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“What do you think I’ll do if you tell me?”
“Run screaming,” he said. “Right out into the blizzard.”
“Do I seem like the kind of woman who’d run screaming from anything?”
At that, a tentative version of his sweet smile lit his face. “No. You don’t. You seem like the kind of woman who’d crawl out of a wrecked car, climb down a tree, and hike for hours in a blizzard. In a short skirt and heels.”
“Well, then,” Emily prompted, but he wasn’t done.
He went on, “Like an incredibly brave and determined—and sweet—and funny—and gorgeous—and sexy woman.”
Then it was Emily’s turn to sit there with her lips parted, unable to think of a single thing to say. Did he really feel that way about her?
His voice dropped again, to the barest of whispers. She had to lean in to hear him, close enough to feel his warm breath on her cheek. “Like a woman I can’t stand to lose just yet. I’ll tell you. I promise. But not tonight. Tonight, I want to pretend that we’re just an ordinary guy and an extraordinary woman having a date.”
Emily’s eyes prickled with unshed tears. Blinking hard, she said, “I don’t think I’m all that—and I think you are—but okay. Let’s just be Emily the reporter and Gabriel the park ranger tonight. But I promise you, there won’t be any running or screaming tomorrow.”
She could see Gabriel thinking We’ll see about that as clearly as if the words were projected in headlines over his head. Then he visibly pushed the thought away and smiled at her. “Want dessert?”
“I always want dessert,” Emily said, smiling back. “What have you got in that freezer of yours?”
