Page 13 of The Smokejumper's Lady
I nod, or at least I think I do, because I suddenly feel like I’m watching all of this happen from outside my own body.
Matt grins like he’s just been handed the plot to a soap opera. “You two will be in the north cabin.” He gestures in that general direction. “The Reynolds get the evac tent, and I claimed the last room in the cabin with the medics. Sorry, sweetheart.” He says it to Ryan, not me, which makes the joke land harder. “Guess it’s you and your girl all night.”
Your girl.
My stomach drops. Every nerve in my body lights up like someone hit the panic switch.
All night…
With Ryan…
In a cabin…
Alone.
Oh God.
The room has gone painfully quiet. Matt shoots us both a pointed look, then slaps Ryan on the back. “Try not to break the bed, buddy.”
“Get lost,” Ryan growls.
“Already gone,” Matt says, tossing me a wink. “Nice meeting you, Clea. Try not to let this one boss you around too much. He likes to play alpha when he’s in tight quarters.”
Ryan flips him off without turning around. “Close the damn door behind you.”
Matt laughs all the way out.
Then it’s just us again. The energy in the room shifts, sharpening with the weight of attraction between us.
Ryan steps closer until I have to tilt my head up to meet his eyes.
He’s so damn tall…
“Looks like it’s just you and me tonight,” he says in a low voice that makes my breath catch.
His words sound like a threat and a promise all rolled into one. My body reacts instantly, a warm ache rising in my core, shooting rapidly to the area between my thighs.
“I guess so,” I murmur, trying to sound unaffected but failing miserably.
Ryan smiles at that. A lazy, knowing smile that curls the edges of his mouth but doesn’t quite reach his eyes. His gaze is smoldering. His entire presence is electric. I feel like a delicate butterfly standing too close to a fire. Dangerous and stupid. And completely unable to resist.
He reaches down and threads his fingers through mine. “You ready to leave?”
No.
Yes.
God, I don’t even know anymore. I just nod, letting him lead me out the back of the cabin and into the dusky wilderness beyond.
The fire’s distant now, contained like Matt said, but I can still smell the smoke in the air. The sky is tinged orange as the sun sinks lower, and our footsteps crunch over pine needles and scorched brush as we walk.
But I barely register any of it.
Because Ryan doesn’t let go of my hand.
His palm is big, calloused, swallowing mine. We don’t talk. We don’t need to. The air between us says everything. Every sideways glance, every subtle brush of his arm against mine…it’s all electric.
When we finally reach the cabin, I’m almost breathless. Not from the walk, but from the unbearable anticipation that’s been building with every step.
