Not offended.
Something deeper.
“You don’t know me.”
“No.”
“Then why ask like that?”
“Because I want your answer.”
She said:
“No.”
He nodded.
“That’s enough.”
Her eyes flashed.
“You believe me?”
“Yes.”
“Based on what?”
The mountain man looked toward the door.
“The bog.”
She frowned.
“You had every reason to panic.”
“You didn’t.”
“You had every reason to tell me anything that made me pull harder.”
“You didn’t.”
“You corrected yourself when you weren’t certain.”
“People who fake knowledge usually protect themselves before truth.”
The woman looked away.
Her throat tightened.
She hated gratitude when it came close to tears.
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“Be kind suddenly.”
“I’ve been charming all evening.”
“You called me impossible.”
“I like impossible.”
She looked at him.
The mountain man smiled.
Not teasing now.
Warm.
Dangerous.
She stood.
“I’m sleeping.”
“Bed.”
“You need it.”
“Floor’s fine.”
“You’re injured.”
“So are you.”
“I have more padding.”
The moment the words left her mouth, she regretted them.
Old defensive humor.
Say it first.
Then nobody else can weaponize it.
The mountain man did not laugh.
He stood slowly.
Moved toward her.
“You do that often.”
She stiffened.
“What?”
“Cut yourself before anybody else can.”
Her face went cold.
“You think because I told you one story—”
“No.”
He stopped several feet away.
“I think because every time your body becomes part of the conversation, you make the first joke.”
The woman crossed her arms.
“People usually appreciate efficiency.”
“I don’t.”
“That sounds like your problem.”
“It probably is.”
She looked toward the bed.
Then him.
“Take the bed.”
“No.”
“Mountain man.”
“Healer.”
She almost smiled.
They ended by sharing it.
Not romantically.
That was the agreement.
The bed was narrow.
The mountain man took the wall side.
The woman lay on the outer side facing away.
A blanket between them at first.
Rain continued.
The cabin darkened.
For nearly twenty minutes, neither slept.
Then the mountain man whispered:
“You awake?”
“No.”
“Good.”
She sighed.
“What?”
“You snore?”
She rolled over.
“If I do, I’ll make sure it’s directly into your ear.”
He smiled in darkness.
“That sounds intimate.”
“Go to sleep.”
Another silence.
Then his hand moved accidentally against hers.
Both froze.
Neither withdrew immediately.
The woman finally whispered:
“You flirt very badly.”
“I haven’t practiced.”
“How long?”