Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

AVERY

I pause with the spoon in my hand. “Making soup. I know how cold it is and thought it could warm you up, just like you warmed me up.”

A smirk dances across Nicholas’s face. “I thought the shower took care of that. Do you still require assistance?”

I roll my eyes but bite back a grin. “See? I knew you had a sense of humor buried in there somewhere.”

He strolls into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of whiskey. “Didn’t answer my question.”

“I can always use assistance from a big, strong mountain man.”

Color climbs his face, but I know he’s enjoying this exchange as much as I am.

Some might say I’m overstepping. Here I am, a stranger, barging into this man’s home and raiding his kitchen for soup fixings. But something tells me Nicholas needs this nurturing.

And for some odd reason, I really want to fill that role.

I ladle the soup into bowls and walk them to the table. Nicholas settles into the vacant seat, tugging a hand through his dark hair.

Although he’s not my usual type, the man is ruggedly handsome. Okay, ruggedly gorgeous, with muscles that could undoubtedly crush a city boy with one hand tied behind his back.

He glances up and catches me watching him. “Do I have something on my face?” he asks, rubbing a hand over his beard.

I shake my head, helping myself to some soup. “I have a confession to make.”

Nicholas groans and leans back in his chair. “Great. Here it comes.”

Lord, what this man must think of me? “The soup isn’t totally homemade. I opened a can and added to it.”

“That’s your big secret?” he laughs.

“I suppose so. No luck finding Walter?”

Nicholas shakes his head, finishing his soup. “Whoever he is, he’s long gone now.”

I rest my chin on my hand, gazing at the snow falling outside the window. “It’s so odd.”

“This entire night is.”

Maybe I have overstayed my welcome. But when I cut my gaze to his, I see the smile decorating his face. “I would offer to leave, but then you’d have to rescue me again.”

He swallows some of his whiskey. “Not a chance. Looks like we’re here until morning.”

Damn, but I like the sound of that.

What am I doing? First, he’s a stranger. Second, I just got out of a long-term relationship—like yesterday. Third, the clothes I’m wearing are not his, and I’m not sure I want to know who they belong to.

But I have to ask.

Plucking at the sweatshirt, I bite my lip before biting the bullet. “I’m pretty sure you don’t stock up on women’s clothing for random lost souls. Is she going to be okay with me being here?”

No, I don’t elaborate on who she is. Let’s hope he fills in the blanks.

The smile falls from Nicholas’s face. “They belong to my wife.”

Doesn’t that figure? First time I’ve felt this level of butterflies and he’s decidedly off-the-market.

“Well,” I state, forcing a smile. “I’ll have to thank her when I meet her. She has one amazing husband.”

He clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable with this topic. I’m not sure what their situation is, although there aren’t any homey touches to the cabin beyond the clothes I’m wearing. No pictures, trinkets, or toiletries that show a woman lives here.

It’s odd, and I know there’s more to the story.

More that Nicholas doesn’t care to share.

Not my business, either way.

We finish the rest of the meal in silence, and I clear the dishes before joining him in the living room.

He tops off our glasses and flips off the television. “I figured we could watch a movie, but the satellite isn’t working.”

“I’ve got a better idea.”

Nicholas crosses his arms over his chest, an amused look on his face. “Should I be worried?”

“Not sure,” I reply, showing him a deck of cards. “How good are you at poker?”