Total pages in book: 7
Estimated words: 5832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 29(@200wpm)___ 23(@250wpm)___ 19(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 5832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 29(@200wpm)___ 23(@250wpm)___ 19(@300wpm)
“I don’t have a partner if that is what you are asking,” she says stiffly.
“That’s not safe,” I find myself saying. I don’t even know this woman, but she needs protection, and her protector should be me.
“I’ve never had a problem before,” she says smiling at me.
“Still. Can I interest you in some coffee or tea?”
“Uh, sure,” she says, and I step aside to let her inside the cabin. She kicks her boot off since they are covered in snow. She hands me her coat but leaves her bulletproof vest on. I don’t blame her. I could be a serial killer. I’m not, but she doesn’t know that.
“Kitchen’s over here,” I say, gesturing to it before closing the door.
“I really shouldn’t do this, I am on duty,” she says but sits down on a barstool anyway. I do love a rule breaker.
“It’s beyond fucking freezing. They can’t really expect you to traipse around the woods in negative sixteen-degree weather without stopping.”
“Well, they do.” I just shake my head because what else can I say about that? She takes her sunglasses off and I am surprised by her vivid green eyes with the flecks of blue in them. I have never seen anything so gorgeous. She’s fucking stunning and the gun and handcuffs make her even hotter. There is just something about a strong woman. Like she doesn’t need me, but she’ll get me just the same.
“I also have some chili made. Can I interest you in a bowl?”
“Are you this accommodating to all cops who land on your doorstep?”
“Can’t say that I’ve ever had a cop at my door or someone so beautiful.”
“Oh my God, do you say that to all the ladies?” she asks laughing loudly.
“Hell no. I haven’t even seen a lady that wasn’t Mrs. Horner at the general store in I don’t even know how long.”
“I don’t believe you,” she says, still laughing.
“Believe it, Special Constable Hart.”
“Sarah-Jane.”
“Daniel,” I say, extending my hand.
“Nice to meet you,” she says. We are silent as I set the bowl of chili in front of her. She digs in.
Why does she feel so important to me? I’ve barely said two words to her and already I’m invested. How am I going to feel when I actually get to know her?
Chapter Two
Sarah-Jane Hart
“Are you going to join me?” I ask, feeling a bit self-conscious that I’m eating and he’s not.
“Sure,” he says, taking another bowl down from the cabinet. He dishes up some more of the amazing chili and sits down next to me. I didn’t realize how fucking cold I was until he invited me inside. It was a stupid thing to do, especially while on duty but I felt something when he opened the door. Like actually felt something stir in my core, something I thought was long dead. I’m twenty-six and never had more than one one-night stand. I’m boring. I actually thought I might be frigid until he opened the door. Five minutes in this man’s presence and I feel like stripping down and riding him like the lumberjack he looks like.
“This is delicious,” I say between bites.
“Thanks.”
“Family recipe?”
“No,” he says gruffly. There’s a story there, but I am not going to press him.
“What do you do?” I ask, changing the subject.
“I’m a carpenter. I made all the furniture and cabinets in the place.” I look around the room. There are some extraordinary pieces in the room. My eye is drawn to the giant TV and the cabinet under it.
“Wow. You are very talented.”
“Thank you. Do you enjoy being a cop?”
“I do. I work in the missing person’s division. It’s rewarding when we find them and devastating when we don’t.”
“People walk into the woods out here and never come out. Why do you do it?”
“The reward outweighs the bad,” I answer simply. I take a long drink of the hot black coffee he put in front of me. Normally, I like a lot of cream and sugar, but he doesn’t seem like the kind of man that has all that.
“That makes sense.”
“Do you like being a carpenter?”
“I do. It saved me.”
“Saved you?”
“It’s the kind of job that allows for solitude. I needed that after my last job.”
“What was your last job?”
“Soldier.”
“Thank you for your service,” I say, turning to look at him. The haunted look in his eyes tells me all I need to know. He’s seen and done things that I have no right to ask him about. So I offer him silent comfort by reaching out my hand and placing it on top of his. He’s warm and calloused. I wonder what those rough fingers would feel like on my body and I feel my face heat. Embarrassed, I stand and bring my now empty bowl and mug to the sink. He comes up behind me and drops his bowl into the sink with a loud clunk. He’s so close to me, I can feel his breath on my neck. Goosebumps pop up on my skin.