Page 35 of The Hermit on the Hill

"I didn't agree to live with a bobcat. Don't you close your doors?"

"And lock them. Now that you're living here and I'm going to be a dad to a tasty morsel, I'm going to have to shoot the damn idiot bobcat, so don't worry. I'll get rid of it."

"You're going to shoot it?"

He blinked slowly and looked away. "I'm going to have to. I should have done it years ago. It's not good to have a bobcat around who's too stupid to avoid humans, but it's my own damn fault."

"How is it your fault?"

"I found him when he was a kitten. His mother had been killed or had died or had abandoned him. I should have sent him away once he was old enough to survive on his own, but I was a selfish bastard. I'm amazed he's survived this long, but I came back to what was left of my grandmother's house and there he was, acting like he owned the place."

I pressed a hand to my chest and opened my mouth to say… I had no idea what. He was right; he had to shoot the bobcat, but I hated it for him. There had to be a better way.

He started down the hall before I could speak, his voice rough when he said, "Your room is this way."

I followed him, the mid-morning sun striping the hardwood floor, to the third door on the right. It stood open, my boxes piled around a double bed stripped to the mattress. There was a small dresser in one corner and a nightstand with a vase of daisies.

"The flowers were all Brit," Sam said. "Why don't you take a seat on the bed and I'll move everything where you need it. I put all the boxes of books downstairs in my office, but the second set of bookcases I ordered won't get here until next week." He swiped at hair that had fallen across his forehead and looked up at me. "Unless you want them up here?"

"Downstairs is perfect for my books. You really didn't have to go to all this trouble."

He shrugged. "You're the one doing all the work growing our child. It's the least I can do to make you as comfortable as possible."

"Thank you. These boxes should just be clothes and linens. I'm fine to unpack this stuff myself."

He ignored me and ripped into the first box. He'd been so kind. I didn't want to argue with him, so I sat on the bed, watched him work, and enjoyed the view. Despite his nasty reputation, he'd make some woman a very nice husband one day. I couldn't help feeling sad that woman wouldn't be me.

It took about an hour to get everything unpacked. Mistletoe was sleeping in her carrier contentedly, so I let her be. Sam had grudgingly let me bring her when I explained Jared was often out all night for his job and wasn't officially moving into my place for a couple weeks.

Sam hadn't been happy about it and he'd pointed out that pregnant women shouldn't clean kitty litter boxes, so he'd be taking on that job. Honestly, I thought it was sweet he was worried about the safety of his bunny, but didn't bunnies live in cages?

Once he'd put most of my things away, and pared the rest down to a manageable pile I could handle on my own, Sam helped me up from the bed like I was an invalid. I didn't argue, because the feel of his hands in mine lit me like a Christmas tree, and I forgot why I wanted to argue with him. Once I was on my feet, he didn't let go of me and I almost leaned into him, almost dropped my head against his chest and cried about the fact that I was unemployed, pregnant, and in the position of having to depend on a man I barely knew.

Instead, I bucked up and gave him a big smile that said, 'I can handle this. I'm tough. You don't need to worry about me.'

Sam's frown deepened in response. He released my hands and turned away. "My room is this way. Get the cat and we'll introduce it to Fluffy."

"Her." I bent, opened the cat carrier, and pulled out a sleepy Mistletoe.

"We'll introduceherto Fluffy."

He led me to the end of the hall and opened the door there. I followed him into a room that was surprisingly modest compared to the rest of the house. It wasn't a tiny room, but it wasn't the typical master. There was an ensuite bathroom and room for a king-sized bed, a dresser and two nightstands, but it couldn't have been bigger than fifteen square feet. "Your room isn't the master?"

"This is the master. Closet is on the other side of the bathroom. A master any bigger than this seemed like a waste of space."

The room was cozy. A silver bedspread covered the dark wood sleigh bed with brightly colored pillows on top of it. And the art on the walls was like the folk art in the rest of the house, bright and warm. He'd framed a six-by-six-foot bit of a quilt that appeared to have been homemade from material scraps that varied in texture and color.

On one nightstand sat a pile of books. I took a step toward them to snoop, but a massive creature moved out from around the other side of the bed, and I jumped back. In my arms, Mistletoe scrabbled up onto my shoulder and hissed at the creature.

It hopped toward us and Sam bent to pet it.

"That is not a rabbit," I said. "That's a dog with bunny ears."

Sam snorted. "It's a rabbit, professor. Fluffy is a Flemish Giant. They get big."

"You were worried about Mistletoe eating your giant rabbit? Fluffy is three times Mistletoe's size."

I tried to kneel next to Sam, because Fluffy was really cute and quite, well, fluffy. But Mistletoe dug her claws in and tried to scrabble over my shoulder and down my back to get away.

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