Page 3

Callie

This wasn’t how I’d pictured my week going—curled up in a storm-wrapped cabin wearing a stranger’s shirt and pretending I wasn’t watching his every move. But here I was, swimming in a t-shirt that smelled of fresh air and something warm and male that made my girlie parts get all tingly.

Just like my reluctant host as he moved around his kitchen.

Gabriel Holt was not happy about my presence. That much was crystal clear. But bring on the mountain man fantasies; the man was a sight to behold even—or maybe especially—when he was brooding.

There was a barely leashed wildness about him. Like the storm outside had walked inside and taken the shape of a man. Solid. Silent. Ready to snap.

I sipped my tea, using the mug to hide my face as I watched him. He moved with the efficient grace of a predator, no wasted motion, completely aware of his surroundings. Military precision. The dog tags I’d glimpsed confirmed what his bearing suggested. This man had seen combat, had probably commanded others, had definitely been through hell.

And something inside me—some deep, aching curiosity—wanted to know what he’d seen, what had broken him, and what it would take to piece him back together.

“The rain’s not letting up,” I said, just to break the silence.

Gabriel grunted, barely glancing at the window. “It won’t. Not for a while.”

“You know, in most cultures, hosting someone includes actual conversation,” I pointed out, scratching Max behind the ears as he lounged beside me.

Those storm-gray eyes flicked to mine. “I’m not most people.”

“Clearly.” I couldn’t help the smile tugging at my lips. “Let me guess. You also don’t like small talk, social media, or people who take too long ordering coffee.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw. “Is there a point to this analysis?”

“Just trying to figure out who I’m trapped with.” I stretched my legs out, noticing how his gaze dropped to my bare feet before snapping back up. “Since we’re going to be roomies for the foreseeable future.”

“We’re not roomies,” he said, the word sounding ridiculous in his deep voice. “You’re a temporary inconvenience due to weather conditions.”

I pressed a hand to my chest in mock offense. “Wow. And here I thought we were having a moment.”

Was that the ghost of a smile? It disappeared so quickly I couldn’t be sure.

“The storm should pass by tomorrow afternoon,” he said. “Maybe the next day.”

“And until then?”

“Until then, we stay out of each other’s way as much as possible.”

I laughed. “In this tiny cabin? How exactly do you propose we do that?”

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed slightly, and I realized I’d used the word propose right after mentioning the bed situation. His mind had gone exactly where mine had, judging by the slight darkening of his eyes.

Good. At least I wasn’t the only one struggling with this attraction.

Max chose that moment to trot over to Gabriel, nudging his hand. Traitor.

“He likes you. Which is weird because he’s usually skittish around men,” I said, watching as Gabriel automatically reached down to scratch Max’s ears. Large, capable hands with calluses that spoke of hard work. I swallowed, my mind wandering to the places his presence had stirred up inside me.

The feel of those hands on my breasts, my hips, my thighs. My love life had been non-existent for a while, so I was trying to put all these feelings into a neat little box labeled forced proximity. But I knew myself better than that. This… whatever this emotion I was feeling about this man was something else

“Dogs are good judges of character,” Gabriel said, his voice slightly softer when addressing Max.

“You admit you have character? That’s progress.”

His head snapped up, eyes meeting mine, and for a second, I thought I’d pushed too far. Then something shifted in his expression—not quite a smile, but a reluctant acknowledgment of my teasing.

“You always this much of a smartass?” he asked.

“Only when trapped with grumpy mountain men during storms.” I grinned. “Consider it your punishment for being antisocial.”

Thunder boomed directly overhead, making me jump. Max whined and pressed against Gabriel’s leg.

“It’s okay, buddy,” I called, patting my leg. “Come back over here.”

Max looked at me, looked at Gabriel, and stayed put.

“Seriously?” I raised an eyebrow at Gabriel. “You’ve turned my dog against me in just a few hours?”

Gabriel’s mouth quirked. “Like I said. Good judge of character.”

I rolled my eyes, but internally, my heart gave a little squeeze. The man might be determined to maintain his broody facade, but the gentle way he treated Max told me everything I needed to know.

“So,” I said, pulling my knees up to my chest, “the sleeping arrangements.”

Gabriel’s expression immediately shuttered. “I already told you. I’m taking the floor.”

“And I already told you that’s ridiculous.” I stood up, wincing as my sore muscles protested. Hours of searching for Max in the rain had left me aching everywhere. “Your bed has to be big enough for both of us, and I promise I don’t snore.”

His jaw tightened, eyes darkening as they flicked over me standing there in his clothes. “No.”

“Give me one good reason.”

“I don’t know you.”

“I’m Callie, I’m a photographer, I’m here on vacation, and I rescued Max from the shelter three weeks ago. Now you know me.” I crossed my arms, which only served to push up my breasts under the baggy t-shirt. Gabriel’s eyes dropped for a millisecond before locking firmly back on my face.

There. A flicker. That crack in his restraint. It made something inside me tighten. I wanted to push again. Wanted to see how far he could bend before he broke.

“That’s not what I meant,” he growled.

“Then what did you mean?” I challenged, taking a step closer. “Afraid I’ll take advantage of you in your sleep? Or is it the other way around?”

His nostrils flared slightly. “I’m trying to be a gentleman.”

“And I’m trying to be practical. It’s your cabin, your bed, and we’re both adults.” I shrugged. “Besides, Max will be between us. He takes up half a bed by himself.”

As if to demonstrate, Max chose that moment to flop dramatically onto the floor, sprawling across nearly three feet of space.

Gabriel looked from Max to me, irritation and something else—something hotter—flickering in his eyes. “Fine,” he finally bit out. “But if you’re uncomfortable at any point—”

“I’ll let you know,” I finished for him. “I’m a big girl, Gabriel. I can handle sleeping next to a man without swooning.”

That was a lie. I was already swooning, and we hadn’t even touched.

The look he gave me clearly said he wasn’t so sure he could handle sleeping next to me, which sent a little thrill of satisfaction through my body.

I’d barely brushed against him earlier, and my body had lit up like a matchstick. If he so much as sighed in his sleep, I was in trouble.

“I should check on the generator,” he muttered, clearly looking for an escape. “Make sure we don’t lose power. And I should probably take your dog out before it gets any worse.”

“Take Max out. That’s his name, remember?” I don’t know why I pushed that point. Maybe because I wanted him to remember we were here. With him. For some reason that seemed important.

Max’s ears perked up at the word out, his tail thumping against the floor. “I’ll take him, while you check the generator.”

“There’s no need for all of us to get wet.” Gabriel’s words were a growl which I was beginning to recognize as his go-to response when someone—me—appeared to disobey him. I tucked that little gem of information away for future use.

“There’s every need, Gabriel. We’re a team.” I grabbed my raingear from where he’d hung it to dry and motioned for Max. “And you know, it wouldn’t kill you to accept a little help now and then.”

He paused with his hand on the doorknob. “Maybe I don’t want help.”

“Or maybe you’ve just forgotten how to ask for it.”

Something vulnerable flashed across his face before the scowl returned. “Stay close,” he grumbled when he joined me on the porch. “Visibility’s poor, and the ground around here can get treacherous when wet.”

I bit back a smile at his grudging concern. “I’ll try not to get swept away by a flash flood in the thirty seconds we’re outside.”

“This isn’t a joke. These storms are serious.”

“I know,” I said, sobering. “I promise I’ll be careful.”

I led Max to the edge of the clearing while Gabriel walked to a small building not far from the cabin. The rain was still heavy and didn’t look like it would stop anytime soon. Max pulled on the leash, wanting to get in out of the rain.

Gabriel caught up with us, taking the leash from my hand so Max wouldn’t pull me down in the mud.

“Some knight in shining armor you are, boy,” I grumbled to Max. “You would have pulled me face first into that mud.” To show his disagreement, Max chose that moment to shake vigorously, spraying me and Gabriel.

“Max,” I groaned, jumping back. I froze as I bumped into Gabriel’s chest. His arms went around me to steady me.

I looked up at him, laughing. “Sorry about that.”

He grunted and moved away, opening the door so we could go inside.

He took my jacket and hung it up, handing me a towel for Max.

“Generator’s fine,” Gabriel said, standing by the door as if he couldn’t decide to come fully inside or open it and run out into the rain.

“Good to know.” I smiled, liking that I might be having some effect on him after all. It seemed only fair realizing the effect he was having on me. He ran a hand through his wet hair, pushing it back from his forehead in a gesture that should not have been as sexy as it was.

He glanced at me sharply. His eyes dropped to my mouth, and I found myself wetting my lips instinctively, disappointed that the moment on the porch hadn’t led to something else.

Like his mouth crashing down on mine.

Max gave a loud bark, and the moment shattered.

Gabriel cleared his throat, turning away. “You must be hungry.”

My stomach growled in response. “Starving, actually. I missed lunch tracking down this one.” I nudged Max with my leg.

“I don’t have much,” Gabriel warned, moving to the kitchen. “I wasn’t expecting company.”

“I’m not picky.” I followed him, leaning against the counter as he opened the refrigerator. “Though if you try to feed me MREs, I might have to reconsider my stance on walking down the mountain in a flood.”

He shot me a look that might have been amusement. “No MREs. But my cooking skills are... basic.”

“Let me help, then.” Before he could object, I squeezed past him, my arm brushing against his chest in the narrow space. I felt him stiffen, heard the slight catch in his breath. “I make a mean pasta sauce, even with limited ingredients.”

“I can handle it,” he said, but he didn’t move away.

We were close—too close—in the tiny kitchen. If I turned around, my face would be inches from his chest. I could feel his breath stirring my still-damp hair.

“Gabriel,” I said softly, “I’m going to turn around now, and you’re going to have to step back or we’re going to be inappropriately close.”

A beat of silence. Then, “Right.” He moved away, putting the counter island between us.

I turned, smiling sweetly. “See? That wasn’t so hard. Letting someone into your space for two seconds without growling.”

“I don’t growl,” he said, actually growling the words.

I laughed. “You absolutely do. It’s very mountain-man of you, so I’m not complaining.”

Something that might have been a smile tugged at his lips, but it was quickly suppressed. “Are you always this…” He gestured vaguely at all of me.

“Charmig? Witty? Observant?”

“Irritating,” he finished, but there was no real heat behind it.

“Only with people who need to be irritated.” I opened the cabinet, finding pasta and canned tomatoes. “You look like you haven’t been properly irritated in years. I’m providing a public service.”

This time, the smile escaped before he could catch it—just a brief flash, but it transformed his face, softening the hard lines and making him look younger, approachable.

But still dangerous.

Because a brooding, grumpy Gabriel was one thing. A Gabriel who could smile like that? That was a man who could break hearts without even trying. Mine included.

“You’ve got pasta, tomatoes, garlic...” I rummaged through his surprisingly well-stocked pantry. “Decent olive oil, even. Not bad for a hermit.”

“I like good food,” he said simply. “Just because I live alone doesn’t mean I eat like crap.”

“Fair enough.” I set the ingredients on the counter. “Cutting board?”

He opened a drawer, pulling out a well-used cutting board and a chef’s knife that gleamed with care. Our fingers brushed as he handed them to me, and that same electric current zipped through my body.

For the next twenty minutes, we worked in the small kitchen, moving around each other in a dance that gradually became less awkward. Gabriel turned out to be competent with a knife, chopping garlic with military precision. I managed the sauce, adding herbs I found in his spice rack.

It was... nice. Domestic in a way that should have felt strange with a man I’d just met but somehow didn’t.

“Are we eating at the table?” I asked, stirring the sauce.

He nodded, taking down plates and silverware. Max watched us from his spot by the fireplace, head tilted as if confused by the scene.

“I know, buddy,” I murmured. “Weird day all around.”

I caught Gabriel looking at me, an unreadable expression on his face.

“What?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

“No, what?”

He hesitated, then said, “Just wondering how you can be so... comfortable. With all this.” He gestured around the cabin. “Stranded with a stranger during a storm.”

I considered the question as I drained the pasta. “I guess I’ve learned to roll with the punches. And you don’t exactly give off serial killer vibes.”

“That’s your standard? Not a serial killer?”

“Well, that and the fact that Max trusts you.” I smiled at him over my shoulder. “Despite your best efforts to be intimidating, Gabriel Holt, I think you’re probably a good guy.”

Something like pain flickered across his face, so quickly I almost missed it.

“You don’t know me,” he said quietly.

“I’m a good judge of character too.” I brought the pasta to the table. “Dinner’s ready.”

We ate in relative silence, broken only by the sound of rain hammering against the roof and the occasional rumble of thunder. The storm wasn’t letting up. If anything, it was getting worse.

“This is good,” Gabriel said after a few bites, sounding almost surprised.

“Don’t sound so shocked.” I grinned. “I have hidden talents.”

His eyes met mine across the table, and for a brief moment, I glimpsed something hungry that had nothing to do with the food. Then he looked away, focusing intently on his plate.

After dinner, Gabriel insisted on washing the dishes, probably to avoid more conversation. I let him. But every time he moved, I noticed. The way his back flexed beneath that worn shirt. The way his hands moved with care that made my skin crave a simple touch.

And maybe it was crazy, maybe it was the storm, but something in me wanted him to come to bed. To stop resisting. To see what might happen if he let go. Just once.

“Is that your bedroom?” I asked, nodding to the other door in the hallway, down from the bathroom.

Gabriel’s shoulders tensed as he dried a plate. “Yes.”

“I should warn you, I’m a blanket hog.” I kept my tone light, teasing.

He set the plate down carefully. “I don’t sleep much anyway.”

“Insomnia?”

His jaw tightened. “Something like that.”

The shadows under his eyes told me it was more than that. Memories, maybe. Guilt. Things that clawed at him in the dark.

I wanted to push, to ask about the nightmares that surely accompanied his military service, but something in his expression warned me off. Instead, I yawned, stretching my arms above my head. The movement made his t-shirt stretch across my breasts even more. His eyes dropped before he jerked his gaze away.

The air between us thickened. Charged. If I’d moved just a little closer, I could’ve leaned into him, brushed against that broad chest and dared him to act. But I didn’t. Not yet.

“I’m exhausted,” I admitted. “Mind if I turn in?”

He nodded stiffly. “Go ahead. I’ll be there... later.”

The implication being after I was asleep, so we wouldn’t have to acknowledge the awkwardness of getting into bed together.

“Suit yourself.” I headed for the door, then paused. “Gabriel?”

“Yeah?” His voice was carefully neutral.

“Thank you. For letting us stay. For taking care of Max.” I smiled softly. “I know we’re an inconvenience, but still. Thank you.”

Something in his expression softened, just for a moment. “You’re welcome, Callie.”

It was the first time he’d said my name, and the sound of it in his deep voice sent a shiver through me that had nothing to do with the storm raging outside.

I slipped into his bedroom, closing the door behind me. The room was as spartan as the rest of the cabin—a large bed with simple navy bedding, a wooden dresser, a small bedside table with a lamp and a book. No photos, no personal touches.

No signs of a life beyond survival. No softness. Just a man who’d built a fortress out of solitude.

The bed looked enormous—more than enough room for two people and a dog. I ran my hand over the comforter, trying not to think about Gabriel sleeping here night after night, alone. Trying not to imagine what he might look like first thing in the morning, with stubble darkening his jaw and sleep softening his eyes.

“Get it together,” I muttered to myself, pulling back the covers and climbing in.

The sheets smelled like my borrowed shirt—that same clean, fresh from the outside scent with an undertone of… him. I buried my face in the pillow, inhaling deeply before I could stop myself.

I shouldn’t want him. I barely knew him. But the wanting was there, curling low and heavy inside me. The way he carried his pain. The way he looked like he’d forgotten how to be touched. It made me ache.

This was ridiculous. I’d known the man for only a few hours. Yet something about Gabriel Holt called to me on a level I couldn’t quite understand—a pull that went beyond his obvious physical appeal.

Max jumped up onto the bed, circling three times before settling against my legs with a contented sigh.

“At least one of us is happy,” I told him, scratching behind his ears.

Outside the window, lightning flashed, followed by a crash of thunder that rattled the glass. The storm showed no signs of abating. We were well and truly trapped here, possibly for days.

Days of wondering what he’d do if I rolled over and reached for him in the dark. Of waking to his body heat and not being able to pretend it didn’t affect me.

I burrowed deeper under the covers, half hoping Gabriel would decide to sleep somewhere else after all. Because the alternative—lying beside him, close enough to touch but knowing I shouldn’t—seemed like a special kind of torture.

“We’re in trouble, Max,” I whispered into the darkness.

But as I drifted toward sleep, I couldn’t deny the thrill of anticipation curling in my stomach at the thought of Gabriel eventually sliding into bed beside me, whether he wanted to or not.

Some storms, it seemed, happened inside as well as outside.