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But it’s not just that, and I know it.

It’s also the man staying there. The man I met a few days ago and haven’t stopped thinking about since. The man I’ve snuck little peeks at whenever I spot him outside, like when he decided to chop wood for the fireplace without a shirt on, his thickly-muscled arms noticeable even from here.

I’ve seen the whole man-chopping-wood-thing in movies and used to snicker about it, thinking no actual man did that with his shirt off. Or if he did, he didn’t look anything like the leading men do in the movies.

Except Erik does. Tall, muscular, handsome Erik chops wood like that. And he puts those wussy stars who probably have stunt doubles to shame.

Disclaimer. I’m not looking for a relationship. Full stop. And even if I were, it wouldn’t be with a man who’s going to be gone in a week.

My friend, Ally, would urge me to go for it. She’d tell me to have a quick fling and enjoy not having to make a commitment. But that’s not who I am. I’ve never had a one-night stand, and I don’t intend to. Not that I’m a prude, but the idea of meaningless sex doesn’t hold any appeal to me.

But admiring a very handsome man from afar? That seems harmless. Right?

As I reach for the bag of flour, my attention drifts to the kitchen window again.

I know Erik won’t be outside, and even if he was, I probably couldn’t see him. Not with the sun just dipping below the horizon and shadows creeping through the trees. No. Erik’s no doubt inside; maybe making dinner, or watching one of the hundred or so DVDs stacked on the shelves in the living room. Maybe he’s kicking back with a stout or a glass of whiskey—hedoesn’t seem the wine or light beer type—and watching the sun set outside the window.

Am I being nosy?

My cheeks go hot as soon as the question arises.

Or am I just being… neighborly?

Isn’t that what good neighbors do? Look out for each other?

It’s just starting to rain, after all, and the weather forecast is predicting thunderstorms through the night. If the winds get strong enough, trees could come down. His power could go out, and he doesn’t have a generator, like me. The roof could spring a leak. Crap, lightning could hit the house and start a fire. And as the closest neighbor by at least a mile, I’m the one he’d go to for help.

Especially considering it’sliterallymy job to make sure everything’s okay.

While I’m staring out the window, the rain picks up, shifting from a light shower to a steady downfall. Almost like I jinxed it, the tree branches begin to bend with the increasing wind. The walls creak, signaling a sudden change in air temperature.

Looks like the thunderstorms might come sooner than predicted.

It’s not unusual, up in the Adirondacks, to get these sudden storms throughout the summer. When the weather spins on a dime, shifting from clear skies to a dark and ominous gray. It kind of freaked me out at first, being alone in the house with the wind screaming and the rain pounding the windows, but now that it’s mid-August and we’ve made it through at least half a dozen summer storms, I’ve gotten used to it.

Having a generator helps. If I had to sit in the dark with only candles and lanterns for company, I might not feel the same way. I’d probably end up huddled in bed, my body tense and jerking with every rumble of thunder, flinching every time lightningilluminates the sky. My mind would wander to dangerous places, where the nightmare I left back in Albany comes after me, and?—

A loud crack splits the silence, making the glass in the window rattle.

Less than a second later, a jagged streak of light stabs into the forest.

Even though Iknowit’s fine, my stomach still twists with nerves.

But I push it aside, forcing myself to focus on the task at hand. Measuring. Mixing. Sprinkling in chocolate chips, making sure to get the perfect ratio of chips to dough.

Less than a minute later, thunder strikes again.

Then another burst of lightning.

I glance out the window again, searching for the softly glowing windows of Erik’s cabin. A silly reassurance that I’m not the only one out here in the storm.

But the windows are dark. Because he went to bed early? Or because the power went off?

Then my own house blinks into darkness.

As it always does whenever this happens, my heart makes a little jump.

Thankfully, a few seconds later, the generator kicks on with a low rumble. The kitchen lights come on. The fridge starts humming again.