Page 7 of Huck Frasier
“I’m full of them lately.”
Lightning flashed outside. Rain slammed the roof. And just like that, the power cut out.
“Well,” I said. “That’s not ominous at all.”
Frasier grabbed a lantern. “Hope you weren’t planning on going back tonight.”
“I wasn’t. Not if it meant getting electrocuted by lightning.”
He handed me a blanket. “Then settle in. Guest couch is yours.”
I hesitated.
He looked at me. “What?”
“Me staying here might be a tactical error, too.”
He smirked. “We’ll see.”
5
Marley
The power was out. The storm was raging. And I was on Huck Frasier’s couch, wearing my flannel shirt over my tank top like it was armor and perfume all in one.
He was making tea.
Like, actual tea. With a kettle and everything. Like we werecivilizedtoward each other. And not trapped in a cabin, like we didn’t have a history of bad decisions and unresolved tension hanging in the air like fog.
“You always drink tea during a blackout?” I asked, pulling the blanket tighter around me.
“It calms the dog.”
Hank was snoring on the rug, dead to the world.
“Uh-huh. And it totally doesn’t give you an excuse to show off your rugged-lumberjack-during-an-emergency routine.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “Is it working?”
I hated that itwas.
He handed me a mug and sat down on the other end of the couch, lantern casting flickers of gold across his jawline and collarbone. Way too much collarbone. He was still shirtless under that hoodie.
I sipped. “This isn’t bad.”
“Chamomile. You seem like a chamomile girl.”
“Excuse me?” I narrowed my eyes. “Whatexactlydoes that mean?”
He shrugged, smirking. “Mildly chaotic but secretly soft.”
“Oh my God,” I groaned. “You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“Being charming with your stupid metaphors and your warm beverages and your… arms.”
He grinned. “My arms?”
