There, I halted. Tongue-deep in the double stuff as he stared at me, something fierce over his expression like I’d just waved red in front of a bull. Not that I’d made him angry with my statement, but that I’d just waved something he wanted right in front of him.
Swallowing down the icing, I asked, “So, if you didn’t get fired, why are you here?”
It wasn’t the original question, I knew. But it was the one I wanted answered.
He cleared his throat and dug into his burger patty. “I sold my business. I owned a website and internet software development company, and I just sold it.”
“Oh.” I swallowed hard, realizing just how smart he must be in addition to cultured.
“One-point-two billion dollars.”
I choked on my cookie.
And rich, Winna. You forgot rich.
Meanwhile, I made jerky, lived in long johns, and thought SpaghettiOs were of acceptable nutritional value. Yeah, to think this attraction was not just one-sided was like believing the deer wanted to be hit with my arrow just as much as I wanted to shoot it.
“You okay?”
I nodded vigorously, making my eyes water worse, and squeaked, “Yeah.” Shoving a giant bite of venison burger in my mouth, I chewed quietly, demanding my racing heart to slow. “And you chose to come to Michigan?”
I wasn’t going to judge. I loved Michigan in every season. The wildness. The people. The freedom. I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else, especially in the winter. But I felt like that sentiment could only be had by someone who grew up here and knew what to expect.
He laughed and nodded like he struggled to believe it himself. “I did.”
My attention diverted for a second as Chewie sat between us, hungrily eyeing Ryan’s half-eaten burger.
“Chewie,” I warned and, after giving me his innocent eyes, the mischievous mongrel settled down to lay on the floor next to both of us.
For a second, I was struck by the scene: the two of us sitting on the floor close to the fire, half-drank beers and a package of Oreos, and my husky pup curled between us. It was a picture that belonged to a situation that was more than just neighbors momentarily stuck together. Only it didn’t.
“I know this is my cabin and all, but I can’t say it’s the lap of luxury, especially this time of year,” I said, gently teasing myself. “Why here? Why in the winter?”
Like I’d turned off the faucet, the relative ease with which he’d shared about himself with me stopped, retreating into a silence that strained with the truth.
The storm howled outside, rattling the windows, but the snow wasn’t coming down like before.
A few moments later, Ryan rose and took our empty plates into the kitchen, setting them in the sink to be cleaned once the power was back on.
Chiding myself for not knowing when to shut up, I pulled the ties from my hair, unweaving the braids that still locked cold water in their tangles and loosened the strands with my fingers so the fire could dry them, too.
“I wanted a clean slate,” Ryan rasped with a low voice, claiming my complete focus when he settled back down next to me.
My shoulders sagged, inexplicably relieved that our conversation wasn’t over. I pulled my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them, and letting my gaze melt into the soothing sway of the fire.
“Why were you angry in the woods the other day?” I asked quietly, unable to keep the question inside any longer.
I had no filter. Maybe it was a fault. Maybe it was just me. But who I was—how I was raised—and how I lived only allowed for raw, honest truths.
He stayed silent for so long even Chewie began to whimper, nudging Ryan’s hand from where he laid between us.
“I’m sorry. You don’t have to tell me—”
“I got out of a relationship a few months ago.” I froze, my body stilling like it did when I hunted, knowing any slight movement, any soft sound, could send what I was after fleeing out of my grasp.
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“It wasn’t a very good relationship, so I can’t even say I regret that it’s over because I don’t,” he said.
“So then why were you angry?” I wondered.
“I realized just how much I’d let her and that relationship damage my life, but the wound was still raw. And that morning, by accident, I saw a photo that pretty much confirmed, on top of it all, she most likely was cheating on me with my friend… my business partner… for quite some time.” He paused. “And it just ripped the edges back open a little.”
My chest squeezed like someone had strapped a belt around it and cinched in too tight, air bursting from my lungs in a small cough and my heart burning with the pain it felt for him.
“I’m sorry, Ryan. That’s horrible,” I told him, wishing I had better words. Instead, my mind could only find simple ones.
“Not as horrible as what it made me realize.” He took several long chugs of his beer, draining what was left from the can before crunching it in his grasp.
“What was that?” I breathed.
His head fell, a lock of hair tipping onto his forehead. Reaching up, he dragged his fingers through the tousled waves, the quick motion sending a spiral of heat straight down between my thighs.
“That I’d worked so hard for so long and, when it was all said and done, I had nothing to show for it.”
“I wouldn’t call… all that money nothing.”
His eyes swung to mine and charged, “I think you would.”
My throat constricted.
He read me well, and that was fine. I wasn’t trying to hide who I was or what I valued. And I just wasn’t the kind of girl who valued money like that.
“Nothing left to my life. Nothing left of my relationship. Nothing really left to build on.”
“So, you came here.”
“Seemed like a place just as boring and barren as I was,” he admitted and I winced, understanding but still feeling the insult to my home. “Until I got here.”
“And you realized just how wild and dangerous and beautiful it is?” I finished with a hopeful lilt to my voice.
“And I realized just how wild and dangerous and beautiful you were.”
My standing comfort toppled, and I dropped my held breath. I shivered, shocked straight to my core at the unfiltered compliment that made my toes curl.
“Mostly dangerous though,” he added on, trying to lighten the heat his words had stoked. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a dick. It’s just… this moment… the one where I thought I made it… feels nothing like I thought it would.”
“I understand.” I tried to swallow over the lump of guilt clogging my throat. “I’m sorry for shooting at you.”
He arched an eyebrow. “I thought you weren’t shooting at me?”
My cheeks heated, and I laughed though it was strained; most of my emotions were still tangled in the giant web of his compliment.
“I’m sorry for shooting in your general direction,” I murmured the alteration, turning my attention to the crackling fire.
Several minutes passed in silence, but not in stagnation. Like oxygen to a flame, it fueled the embers of desire glowing between us.
“So,” he finally drawled, the word like warm honey along my skin, sticking me sweetly to whatever he would say next. “You hunt. You butcher. You make jerky. And you cook.”