Page 4

Gabriel

I was losing my fucking mind.

That was the only explanation for why I was sitting in my living room, staring at the bedroom door, knowing Callie Winters was in my bed, wearing my clothes, and I was actually considering joining her.

Three years of carefully maintained isolation, and one rain-soaked woman with wild curls and a smart mouth had me questioning everything in the span of a few hours.

I scrubbed a hand over my face, feeling the stubble rasp against my palm. The clock on the wall read close to midnight. I’d been sitting, debating my options like I was planning a tactical mission.

I could sleep in the armchair. I’d done it before. Not the whole night, but after I’d eaten and read for a few hours, I’d doze on and off. It wasn’t restful, but it was a way for my body to unwind.

I could sleep on the floor, which wouldn’t be the worst place I’d ever slept, but wasn’t ideal. And both my shoulder and back would also hate me in the morning.

I could sleep with Callie in the bed with Max between us as she’d suggested, and lie awake all night with a raging hard-on.

None of them seemed particularly appealing.

Max had abandoned me about twenty minutes after Callie disappeared into the bedroom, trotting after her with a backward glance that felt oddly like judgment. Even the dog thought I was being ridiculous.

Maybe I was.

It was just a bed. Just sleep. With a woman who made my pulse quicken every time she looked at me with those whiskey-colored eyes. A woman whose scent—something floral and warm—now permeated my cabin, making it impossible to pretend she wasn’t here.

A particularly violent gust of wind rattled the windows, followed by a crash of thunder that shook the cabin. The storm was getting worse, not better. We’d be lucky if the roads were passable within two days at this rate.

Two days with Callie Winters. In my space. In my head.

I stood abruptly, needing movement. Three steps took me to the window, where I pulled back the curtain to stare out into the darkness. Rain lashed against the glass. The creek that ran along the edge of my property would be a raging torrent by now. If she hadn’t found my cabin…

The thought sent an unexpected chill through me. She would have been in serious danger. Hypothermia at best. Swept away at worst.

I let the curtain fall back into place, forcing those thoughts away—and why they upset me so much. She was safe. Here. In my bed.

I groaned quietly, resting my forehead against the cool glass. This was torture, and entirely my own doing. I could stay firm, sleep on the floor, not cave to her practical suggestion of sharing the bed.

But who was I kidding? Not myself. Not my body. I wanted to lay down beside her. Take in her sweet scent. Feel the warmth of her body next to mine. Feel alive for the first time in what seemed like an eternity.

The bedroom door creaked open behind me. I turned to find Callie standing in the doorway, hair tousled from the pillow, drowning in my t-shirt that hit her mid-thigh. Max peered around her legs, tail wagging lazily.

“Are you going to stand out here all night?” she asked, voice husky with sleep. “Because I can hear you thinking from in there, and it’s keeping me up.”

I cleared my throat. “I was just checking the storm.”

Her eyes, soft with sleepiness, saw right through me. “Gabriel, it’s almost midnight. Come to bed. I promise not to bite.” A small smile. “Unless you ask nicely.”

Fucking hell. I fought to keep my expression neutral. “I’m fine out here.”

“You’re being ridiculous.” She crossed her arms, which only served to emphasize the curves beneath my shirt. “We’re both adults. We can share a bed for a night or two without it being weird.”

It was already weird. At least for me.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” I said, just to get her to go back inside.

She studied me for a moment longer, then shrugged. “Suit yourself. But fair warning—the longer you wait, the more of the bed Max and I are going to take over.”

With that, she turned and disappeared back into the bedroom, leaving the door ajar. An invitation. Or a challenge.

I waited five more minutes, listening to the storm and my own racing thoughts. This was absurd. I’d faced down enemy fire without flinching, but the thought of climbing into bed with an attractive woman had me frozen in place.

I walked into a war zone with less hesitation than I felt about walking into that room.

What did that say about me?

Finally, cursing under my breath, I switched off the lights and made my way to the bedroom.

Callie was curled on her side, facing away from the door, dark curls spilling across my pillow. Max lay stretched along the foot of the bed, head resting on his paws, watching me with sleepy eyes.

I hesitated in the doorway, suddenly feeling like an intruder in my own bedroom.

“I can hear you hovering,” Callie murmured without turning around. “Just get in already.”

Swallowing hard, I moved to the empty side of the bed. I normally slept in just boxers, but that wasn’t happening tonight. Instead, I was still fully clothed in a t-shirt and sweatpants, feeling oddly formal as I eased onto the mattress, keeping as close to the edge as possible.

I lay on my back, rigid, staring at the ceiling, acutely aware of her body just inches away. The mattress wasn’t small, but it suddenly felt tiny.

“Relaxed yet?” Callie’s voice was amused in the semi-darkness.

“I’m fine,” I said shortly.

“You’re lying there like you’ve got a board strapped to your back.”

“I always sleep like this.”

“Sure you do.” She rolled over to face me, propping herself up on one elbow. I could see her pretty face, her full lips. Those eyes that seemed to look right inside me. A strand of hair fell across her cheek, and I had to fight the insane urge to reach out and brush it back.

“What?” I asked when she continued to study me.

“I’m trying to figure you out, Gabriel Holt.”

“Don’t bother.”

Her lips curved. “Too late. I love a good puzzle.”

“I’m not a puzzle.”

“No? Then what are you?” Her voice was soft, curious without being intrusive somehow.

I turned my head to look at her directly. “Just a man who wants to be left alone.”

“Mmm, see, that’s where the puzzle comes in.” She tucked the wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “Because most people who truly want to be alone don’t take in stray dogs. Or let strangers stay during storms.”

“That’s basic human decency, not a character revelation.”

“Is it, though? I think there’s more to you than you want to admit.”

I sighed, turning back to stare at the ceiling. “Can we just sleep?”

“In a minute. First, tell me one thing about yourself. Just one. Then I’ll leave you alone.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re sharing a bed, and I know more about Max than I do about you.”

I considered ignoring her, but something told me she’d just keep pushing. “What do you want to know?”

“How long were you in the military?”

Of course she’d go straight for that. “Ten years. Army Special Forces.”

I’d stayed in too long. Way past the time when I forgot how to sleep without a weapon within reach. I stayed in long enough to come home a stranger. Deciding to give her a taste of her own medicine, I asked, “Now it’s your turn. Tell me something about you.”

She raised an eyebrow. “That wasn’t part of the deal, but I’m glad you’re playing along.” She smiled, settling more comfortably against the pillow. “I’m a wildlife photographer. I specialize in birds of prey, actually.”

That surprised me. “Is that why you’re here? For the eagles?”

“Among other things. Lone Mountain has some of the best raptor habitats in the region.” She nodded toward the window, where rain still lashed against the glass. “Though this weather isn’t exactly cooperating with my plans.”

I could picture her with a camera, patient and observant, capturing moments most people would miss. It suited her.

“So no better half wondering why you haven’t checked in with him?” I couldn’t help the flare of jealousy at the thought of another man pacing, worrying about her.

“No, it’s just me and max. Your turn again,” she said. “Why Lone Mountain? Of all the places to be alone, why here?”

This was veering into territory I didn’t want to explore. “That’s more than one thing.”

“Humor me.”

I sighed, shifting slightly to ease the tension in my shoulders. I didn’t tell her that the man who owned most of Lone Mountain was ex-military himself and made a habit of taking in strays much like she’d adopted Max. “It’s remote. Beautiful. Quiet. No one bothers me here.”

“Until now,” she added with a small smile.

“Until now,” I agreed, finding myself almost returning her smile despite my best efforts.

Max chose that moment to get up, stretch dramatically, and then flop down between us, taking up far more space than seemed possible for his size. His warm weight pressed against my leg, oddly comforting.

“See? Perfect chaperone,” Callie said, scratching behind Max’s ears. “Though I’m not sure if he’s protecting me from you or you from me.”

The question hung in the air, laced with something that made my cock harden and set my blood on a slow burn. Because despite everything she stirred up in me—irritation, longing, guilt—I wanted her.

“We should sleep,” I said, lacing my fingers together across my stomach so I wouldn’t do something foolish and reach for her. “It’s late.”

“Of course. Goodnight, Gabriel,” Callie murmured.

“Goodnight.” I lay there in the darkness, listening to her breathing gradually slow and deepen as she drifted off. Max’s warm presence between us was both a barrier and a reminder of why she was here in the first place.

Tonight, sleep eluded me for entirely different reasons. I was too aware of her—the subtle floral scent of her hair, the occasional soft sound she made in her sleep, the fact that she was wearing my clothes in my bed. It was the most intimate thing I’d experienced in three years, and we weren’t even touching.

I don’t know how long I lay there, caught between wanting to move closer and the urge to get up and go into the other room. Eventually, the rhythm of the rain and Callie’s steady breathing lulled me toward sleep.

Just as I was drifting off, a particularly violent crack of thunder shook the cabin. Beside me, Callie startled awake with a small, distressed sound. She reached out in the darkness, her hand finding my arm and gripping it tightly.

“It’s okay,” I said automatically, my voice low. “Just thunder.”

“I know,” she murmured, but she didn’t let go. “Sorry.”

I should have pulled away. Should have maintained the careful distance between us. Instead, I found myself covering her hand with mine, her skin soft beneath my callused palm.

“It’s okay,” I repeated, and I wasn’t sure if I was reassuring her or myself.

For a moment, we stayed like that, connected by that simple touch, the storm raging around us. Then, slowly, she released her grip and withdrew her hand.

“Thanks,” she whispered into the darkness.

I didn’t trust myself to respond.

Eventually, her breathing evened out again as she fell back asleep. Max had somehow migrated to the foot of the bed, leaving nothing between us but a foot of empty mattress and my crumbling resolve.

I turned to the side, facing away from her, and closed my eyes. But even with my back to her, I could feel her presence like a physical force—warm, alive, unsettlingly appealing.

This woman was dismantling my defenses one by one, and she didn’t even know it.

Or worse—maybe she did.

The thought followed me into uneasy dreams, where I searched for something I couldn’t name in an endless storm, guided only by the sound of Callie’s voice calling me forward into the darkness.

She wasn’t the storm.

She was the silence after.

The kind that made you remember what you’d lost. And wonder—just for a second—what it might cost to want something again.