Page 6 of Rescued By the Lumberjack

He works on getting a fire started; the sparks showering his face, and I squirm, feeling the heat on my skin.

Can I ask him questions about the photographs? He’d find them invasive, I’m sure. I should wait until he tells me himself, if he even wants to.

“Your shower is really nice,” I say instead, needing to fill the air with something other than silence. It’s driving me mad.

He grunts, nodding his head. “Owned nothing that fits you.”

Explaining the lack of pants. I get it, but beggars can’t be choosers. Maybe that’s why he won’t look my way. Rest assured, he’s got nothing to worry about.

“The shirt feels like a nightgown. Covers everything up.”

I must hit it right on the dot because he throws a glance over his shoulder. His eyes lock onto me, and his brows lower.

His eyes show no relief, no thankfulness that the chaos I created in his home has ended; there’s something else entirely. His eyes are clouded with a desperate need for something that isn’t food.

He looks like he wants to eat me up.

Heat floods my cheeks at the ridiculous thought. Looking away, I squeeze my knees. “Thanks.”

How many times am I going to thank this guy?He gets it, Piper.

Thankfully, Grayson turns to look back at his work. Another nod, followed by another grunt.

Talking has to get easier as time goes by. By tomorrow, we’ll be having full conversations, I’m sure of it.

“It’ll warm up here soon.” He shoves another piece into his fire stove. “Stay close.”

He gets up, abandoning me long enough to grab a first-aid kit. Once he’s settled next to my side, I watch as he pats his thigh.

He wants my ankle,I know. However, all I want to do is crawl toward him and see how comfortable his lap is.

“Pills help?”

Rotating toward him, I nod. I watch as he prods at my ankle once more before pulling out a wrap from his kit. Ever so carefully, he wraps my ankle. If it were me, I’d make it too loose or too tight. Grayson does it perfectly. When he’s finished, his thumb traces my ankle bone soothingly like he’s not ready to part ways so soon.

Even if I’m imagining this whole thing in my head, I won’t move until he says he’s done.

“You don’t seem like the kind of guy that gets hurt a lot.” Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I notice the small thin hairs on his fingers. “You’re pretty good.”

His throat bobs with his next swallow. “Used to wrap plenty of bandages when I was younger, that’s all. Dealing with a sprain would be considered a good day.”

Even if I tell myself not to push, I can’t help myself. “What’s a bad day?”

Catching his gaze when he looks up, he squints. “Grotesque details I don’t think I want to get into, if you don’t mind.”

Nodding, I give him a smile. “Well, I appreciate your skills. If you’d given me the wrap, I would’ve tripped on it and twisted my other ankle,” I half-joke, but it earns me a little rise to his mouth. Not a smile, but one heck of a win in my book.

Lifting to stand, he looks toward the kitchen. “You stay and warm up. I’ll throw together something for us to eat.”

My stomach picks the best time to rumble. “I don’t know how I can pay you back for all of this. Say the word, and I’ll try to make it happen.”

His nose scrunches at the offer. “Just get better, that’s all I want. Don’t hurt yourself further.”

Hardly asking for much here, I can see there’s no point in putting up a fight to give him something of equal value.

“I think I can do that much.” Laughing under my breath, I can’t imagine myself doing anything to hurt myself under his watchful gaze.

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