She looked up.
Their faces were close.
Again.
This time nobody had injuries to explain the proximity.
The mountain man touched one curl near her cheek.
Slowly.
Giving her time to object.
She did not.
His thumb moved across her cheek.
The woman whispered:
“You should go.”
He said:
“Yes.”
Neither moved.
“You’re not leaving.”
“No.”
She kissed him.
Not gently at first.
Years of restraint rarely begin politely.
His hand moved to her waist.
Then stopped.
He pulled back barely an inch.
“You sure?”
She stared at him.
“Do not ruin this by becoming thoughtful.”
He laughed against her mouth.
Then kissed her again.
The evening remained theirs.
Private.
Warm.
Adult.
No audience.
No proof required.
By morning, the woman woke alone.
Panic came instantly.
Old experience.
Of course.
Of course he had—
Then the door opened.
The mountain man entered carrying two cups of coffee and a skillet.
She stared.
“What?”
“You left.”
“I went twenty feet.”
“You could have said something.”
He looked at her.
“You thought I’d gone.”
She pulled the blanket higher.
“No.”
He set the coffee down.
“Yes.”
She glared.
He sat beside her.
“I’m not embarrassed.”
She looked away.
“I didn't ask.”
“I’m answering anyway.”
His hand touched hers.
“I’m not hiding you.”
She looked at him.
“You say that now.”
“Yes.”
“And tomorrow?”
“Probably more annoyingly.”
She smiled despite herself.
Then someone knocked.
Hard.
Three times.
The mountain man’s face changed.
He stood.
The woman dressed quickly.
The knocking came again.
A man’s voice.
“Open under county authority.”
The woman froze.
Mountain man looked at her.
“Expecting anyone?”
“No.”
He opened the door halfway.
Two men stood outside.
One wore a county marshal’s badge.
The other did not.
Tall.
Gray coat.
City boots too fine for mud.
The woman’s face lost color.
The gray-coated man smiled.
“There you are.”
The mountain man looked between them.
“You know him?”
The woman whispered:
“Yes.”
The man removed his hat.
“Professor.”
That word changed the room.
The mountain man stepped slightly in front of her.
The woman touched his arm.
“No.”
Gray Coat smiled.
“Still collecting protectors?”
She ignored him.
“What do you want?”
“Your calculations.”