Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 63214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
No time to compare decorating styles. Get Faith warm, man.
I grabbed all the blankets, rushed back downstairs, and piled them on top of her. She moaned a little and shifted on the couch.
I touched her forehead.
Unbelievably, she felt normal, warm and not too cold.
Am I missing something? She should be in shock and blistered.
For five more minutes, I took her pulse and monitored her breathing. I wasn’t a doctor, but everything seemed okay.
It’s still cold in here.
I gave up on trying to figure it out and hurried to the back of her house.
This is crazy.
Opening the door and pushing through it, I spotted the stacks of logs next to old silver antiques and copper molds. I piled a bunch of wood in my arms, spotted the ax, and promised to come back out and chop some more later.
Who’s been chopping the wood for her?
I studied it.
The pile sat light in my arms. Jagged, thin pieces instead of thick, chunks of logs.
She did this. Why isn’t Brett cutting the damn wood? Just because you’re divorced doesn’t mean you leave the mother of your kids to fend for herself. Women shouldn’t be cutting wood.
I did my best to not be a misogynist in life, but I blamed my mother for my old-fashioned thinking.
Dad did trucking and was away a lot. I had to be the man. My brothers and I always did the men work—chopping and shoveling, cutting grass and taking out the trash, fixing things and getting rid of the snakes and rats that scared the hell out of my mother.
At an early age, I understood that to be a man, meant to work hard in protecting the women around me.
I didn’t know how to let a woman pay for dinner on a date. Many tried. Even the women that I didn’t want a relationship with, I couldn’t let them reach in their pockets and pull out their wallets. That shit wasn’t in my makeup. Men paid. They opened doors. They carried things. They hammered shit and lifted the rest.
I need to have a talk with Brett.
The bag buzzed against my chest. I’d forgotten that I’d taken my shirt off. The last thing that Faith needed to see, when she woke up naked and confused on her couch, was me half-naked in front of her.
But carrying the wood into the living room,
Faith had already woken up.
And her gaze fell on my chest, the bag next, and then my face.
Confusion swam in those beautiful eyes.
I had nothing to say.
Should I mention that I’d discovered her naked and gyrating against snow in the middle of the night?
Maybe it was some strange type of sleepwalking. Then she’d probably be confused on how I was even in her house in the first place. Or more important, why I didn’t have a shirt on.
Saying nothing, she looked around the lit room and then stared down at herself, drinking in the blankets, my jacket, and shirt cocooned around her body.
She directed her gaze back at me and said nothing.
What else could I do, but take the logs over to the fireplace and start a fire. We needed warmth in this freezing place. A house that was so beautiful, but so hauntingly cold.
I could feel her watching me. The sensation covered my back like a blanket. She remained silent as I stacked the wood on about two inches of a nice ash bed in the hearth.
She’s been using the fireplace.
A small ash bed of old burnt things created good insulation for a new fire.
I guess she can take care of herself just fine. Too bad. I’m still going to take care of her.
I made an upside-down fire to keep the heat burning for hours. Most placed tinder and smaller kindling at the bottom while the larger fuel logs sat on top. I reversed the sequence and stacked smaller logs on top.
Faith had kept a small pile of ash covered newspaper on the side. I took a few, bunched it up, and put it on the top too, right before lighting it all.
Why hasn’t she said anything yet? Should I talk first?
The space warmed.
I kept my back to her and focused on the flames.
Her voice came from behind. “Thank you.”
For what? How much does she remember?
I stiffened. “You’re welcome.”
Movement sounded next. “I should give you back your shirt.”
I turned around. “No, you should stay warm.”
She lifted the shirt from her legs and tried to sit up.
“No.” I shook my head. “Please lay down.”
“I feel fine.”
“That doesn’t mean you’re fine.”
“I am, I just need too. . .” And then she stared at my chest.
Lust rushed through my body. Now was not the time to focus on how much I wanted Faith. We needed to talk about what was going on with her. I wouldn’t feel right, if I left her here alone to race out into the snow again another night and make love to it.