


No. It’s not nosiness. I’m concerned about his well-being. I’m still concerned, although he keeps saying he’s fine.
He’s not fine.
Well, he is fine, but that has nothing to do with the status of his right leg and everything to do with the dark blue intensity of his gaze, the brown stubble on his jaw, and the fullness of his lips. The fact that he’s trying to convince me not to worry also suggests this guy is definite alpha hero material.
He rips open the bag of chips and pulls one out, crunching softly after popping it into his mouth. I’m mesmerized by the movement of his lips, the motion of his jaw, the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows. Eating salt and vinegar chips isn’t supposed to be erotic, is it? At least it hasn’t been for the thirty-plus years I’ve been on the planet.
He angles the bag toward me. “Want some?”
I shake my head and put a hand to my stomach, which isn’t easy because this huge, silly dog is sprawled over me on the couch. “I don’t think I’m ready for food yet.”
Colin arches a single eyebrow as he selects another chip from the bag. “So you’re not as cool as a cucumber over today’s events as you would have me believe, are you?”
I bury my fingers in the dog’s thick fur. “Intellectually, I can understand my life was in danger today. I take solace in the fact that I didn’t die.” I point to Colin. “Thanks to you. Emotionally, however, my nervous system is still in stress mode.” I pat my stomach again. “As is my digestive system.”
“That’s fair,” Colin says. “Would booze help?”
“Now that’s a prescription I wouldn’t mind taking.”
He lets out a raspy laugh, making me surmise laughing isn’t something he does often, but I love the sound of it. “There’s beer in my fridge or whiskey in the cabinet above it. Your choice and I’ll take either.”
I extract myself from the gentle giant on my lap, but as soon as the dog sees I intend to leave the room, he gets up to follow. “What’s this handsome guy’s name?”
“Diver.” More chips crunch and I silently thank Matt’s mom. Salt and vinegar chips have gotten rid of Colin’s salt and vinegar attitude toward my unexpected appearance at his home.
I scratch Diver’s ears and his big brown eyes squeeze shut in bliss. “I should have asked your name before we got so intimate on the couch there, sweetie.”
Another scratchy laugh sifts from Colin and I’m on a roll here. He hasn’t outright kicked me out, he thinks I’m funny, he’s offered me chips, and now a drink. This all feels like a major win.
Diver escorts me into a kitchen that is as tidy as the galley on Sharkfin. Come to think of it, for a man’s house, everything is orderly. That’s when I freeze with my hand on the cabinet knob above the fridge.
What if this isn’t a man’s house? What if Colin has a wife or a girlfriend who lives here with him?

Her love of nature seeps into every story she tells. As does her obsession with bearded mountain men who build, often smell like sawdust, and know how to cherish the women they love. Today she writes tales meant to make you laugh, maybe make you sweat, and definitely make you believe in the power of love.
She lives in Rhode Island and occasionally Vermont with her pack–a husband, a cat, and a big, black German Shepherd who defends her fiercely from all evils.
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