Page 30 of Stranded with the SEAL

She stared at it. “I’m engaged?”

“Looks that way.”

Out with it, Hawk.

He swallowed hard. “Your shirt said Bride.”

Her head shot up. “You knew I was engaged and you didn’t tell me?”

“I wanted you to remember on your own.” It sounded indefensible when he said it out loud.

Hell, it is indefensible.

She took the ring from his hand. “It didn’t keep you from kissing me.”

“No. It didn’t, and it should have. I’m sorry.”

She turned away.

He forced his feet to be still and his arms to remain at his sides when they wanted to go after her, reach for her. It was better this way. He had no right to this woman, no claim to her body or mind.

“You promised,” she said quietly. “You promised you’d never take advantage of me.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.” He hated himself in that moment. He was the lowest of the low, the bottom of the barrel. “It was inexcusable.”

“If we’re being completely honest, I suspected,” she said.

“That you were engaged?”

“That I wasn’t free to be kissing you, yes.”

He pursed his lips. He should let it go at that, but his mouth opened of its own accord. “Then why did you?”

She turned around to face him, her eyes dark. “For the same reason you did.”

They stared at each other, the tension between them like the tightest wire. He swore he could still feel raw passion between them, as if her knowledge of her life outside of these walls changed nothing about their lives inside of them.

What would she do if he kissed her again? Would she push him away or pull him in tightly against her? He hated himself for even wondering, but the pull of sexual attraction would not be denied.

He cleared his throat. “I need to get the furnace working, or we’re going to freeze to death tonight.”

She nodded. “And I should find us something for dinner.”

He moved for the basement door, then stopped and turned around. “Are you sorry it happened, Livy?”

She acted as though she didn’t hear. She was just standing in the middle of the room staring into space, the ugly ring on the tip of her index finger.

19

Trevor lita candle and made his way down a narrow staircase to the basement, the smell of must making his nose twitch. The furnace was in the far corner near the electrical box, and as he moved toward it, a bright red tag on the exhaust pipe caught his eye.

WARNING: Cracked Heat Exchanger. Carbon Monoxide Hazard.

It was handwritten in thick black marker, signed with a scribble, and fastened to the furnace with a zip tie. He’d never seen anything like it.

He pried open the panel on the furnace. It was older, with a cylindrical heat exchanger, and he moved to a small workbench to locate some basic tools. Within minutes he was inspecting it in the candle’s light. Sure enough, there was a crack.

“Son of a gun,” he whispered. They wouldn’t be getting any heat out of this furnace today. Carbon monoxide from the burning fuel would flow right out of the crack and into the cabin, killing anyone who slept in the house.