When she couldn’t handle the sound of nothing but wind and rain and crackling wood, she sat on one of the two heavier logs Bjorn had set next to each other beside the fire.
He watched her for a moment, then joined her. “I’m not well-practiced in this.”
“This?”
“Fighting.”
“With a woman?”
“With anyone.”
The weight of his goodness got a little heavier with each word. “I already said I was sorry.”
“And I already said you had nothing to be sorry for. What’s wrong?”
She rolled her eyes. “You kissed me! And then the rain started, and everything changed. And I get that, because hello, wake up call. Right?”
He didn’t answer right away, and as one second rolled into another, the air in the cave warmed. Just a bit—a hint of a thaw.
Or maybe she was just seeing what she wanted to see.
He finally shook his head. “It’s complicated.”
“Because you’re a monk.” He looked surprised that she was going there, but maybe it needed to be laid out in the open. “And because I’m not…what?”
“There’s no and. I’ve dedicated myself to a difficult path. How torn I am has nothing to do with you. You are perfect.”
She snorted. “You don’t know me. I’m far from perfect.”
“I want to know you, though. Every inch of you, starting with your heart.”
Her breath caught in her chest.
He sighed. Damnit, why did he have to pair such a beautiful thing to say with such a sad sound? “See? It is complicated.”
“Hmmm.” She rubbed her hands together, then held her palms toward the flames. “Nice fire.”
“Thank you.” He let them fall into silence again, but this time it didn’t feel cold. Complicated—Bjorn’s favourite word, clearly—but no longer cold. And when he spoke again, he followed her lead in directing the conversation to something more neutral. “Tell me more about your first visit to The Outerlands.”
She leaned forward, bracing her elbows on her knees, and did just that. She told him about working as a horse trainer, and leaping at every travel opportunity because even before she’d known about the homesteading opportunities here, something had itched between her shoulder blades. Something that said, your home is elsewhere.
They talked until his stomach growled, then they ate a careful amount of the remaining food, leaving plenty in case they were trapped there another day. Bjorn showed her a safe nook just outside the cave where she could relieve herself when she finally admitted she needed to pee—and at least the rain helped her wash her hands.
She liked roughing it, but going without a river or a hot spring was not her idea of a good time.
Being alone with Bjorn, though, was—even though the evening came without any more kissing. He was funny and smart, and as long as they stuck to their shared history of growing up near the capital city and wanting desperately to escape, he was pretty open about himself as well.
“I have a motorcycle,” he said unexpectedly, proving that he could share secrets with the best of them.
She could feel her mouth drop open. “That wasn’t what I expected you to say.”
One corner of his mouth quirked up. “Yeah.”
“Do you ride it?”
“A couple times a month.”
“Neat.”
He laughed, and she rocked against him, brushing her shoulder against his. It felt good to share a laugh like this.
“Can I ask about it?”
He shifted next to her. “How do you know there’s a story there?”
“Because you brought it up. And also because you shipped it across an ocean to a place where nobody will ever see it.”
“Yeah.”
“So…”
His fingers grazed her forearm and she shivered.
“Don’t distract me. You brought it up.”
“Are you cold?”
She laughed and got up to check on the blanket, now dry. “I’m not, but I might stretch out on this.”
His gaze followed her, hot and interested, as she stretched it out on a smooth stretch of ground near the fire. But when she cocked an eyebrow and gestured in invitation, he shook his head.
She forced back the sour disappointment. The man didn’t owe her cuddles.
“I’ve never wanted to share my bike with anyone. I brought it here for reasons…” He shook his head again, and this time she realized he wasn’t saying no. He was arguing with himself.
“Tell me,” she whispered, settling on the blanket. She’d give him all the space he needed to sort out his thoughts. She could be good.
He groaned and looked at her sideways. “Talking is the last thing on my mind right now.”