Swallowing the queasiness down, she asked, "Stop what?"
"Overthinking it. You looked hot. I can take the curtains down if you want."
"Har har. They're fine where they are. Sorry about the eyeful."
He took a drag of coffee from his steaming mug and gave her a wicked smile over the rim. "I'm not."
She couldn't tell whether she wanted to kiss him for the compliment or throw a snowball in his coffee, but he'd succeeded in easing the tension of what could've been a really embarrassing situation.
Without his toboggan, his chin length blond hair lifted in the breeze. The black thermal shirt that clung to his chest like a second skin did wonders for his shape, and the divot between his defined pecs peeked out through two forgotten buttons. His jeans were worn and hung low on his tapered hips, and the gold in his two day scruff shone as the sun reflected off the snow. His eyes were so pale in the morning light. Surely, he knew how good he looked, sipping his coffee and wrecking her hormones. The oaf. He smiled like he could tell what she was thinking.
"What time is your date with Ben?" he asked through a cocky, crooked grin.
"It isn't a date. It's coffee. And I should probably leave for town in two hours."
"You want to come with me to repair some fences?"
With a sincere effort to contain her excitement, she nodded. "Let me get some work clothes on."
When she reemerged in her heaviest layers, Aanon was topping off the gas tanks on both four-wheelers. Any hope she'd have of riding clutched onto his taut back like a parasite was dashed immediately. Mmm-hmm, she had said they'd be friends, and she'd keep her end of the bargain, but in secret she was going to crush on him so hard. How could she not? He looked like an ancient, sexy Norsemen dropped into modern times. Ax swinging, cattle whispering, machine welding, bear hunting, tattoo hiding Alaskan woodsman. Yep, she was wrong all those years ago to think no man in this country could suit her. If ever there had been a more intriguing man than Aanon Falk, well, she hadn't found him yet.
Erin had better appreciate every one of his tantalizing qualities, or it was just a waste. On second thought, there was no way Erin was taking Aanon for granted. A man like him made it physically impossible for a woman to ignore him.
Mounted on his four-wheeler, he let out a shrill whistle and Bruno and Luna came running. When Farrah was straddled over the cold seat, Aanon tossed a challenging look behind him and took off.
In the days she'd taken the four-wheeler into town for work and errands, she'd become accustomed to how it drove, but never once had she taken it off road. There wasn't much choice about it now because there wasn't even a trail for them to follow, so in efforts to avoid jostling her tiny stomach, she followed in Aanon's tire tracks. He slowed and waited, and God bless the man, he didn't even tap his foot or throw her disparaging looks like Miles used to do when she took too much time.
Barbed wire and tools she hadn't a guess at littered the back of his ATV, and when they came to a downed fence caused by a dead tree that had fallen, he ripped a chainsaw without hesitation and trimmed the branches until it was a smooth log. Section after section was cut until the tree was nothing but a stack of logs for the chopping block. He taught her what each tool did, how not to get pricked by the barbs, and how to tighten and tie the fencing material until it was up and functional once again. When they were finished, he led her down the fence line to repair the next section.
Without coddling her, he made sure to do any heavy work that would put her pregnancy at risk. As she grew more comfortable with the work, it went faster. He could depend on her to know what she was doing without having to over-instruct her, and after a couple of miles of repairs, they didn't have to talk much. Instead, he would brush her back with the tips of his fingers in some unspoken language they'd invented from trial and error, and she would guess what he needed. She'd hand him a tool or hold a piece of wire in place or duck when he needed to go over her head.
Winter came fast and unexpected in the Alaskan wilds, and they'd been lucky the first blizzard hadn't held. Standing back, watching this capable man knock a post deeper into the ground with the mountains behind him and rich, green grass poking up through sparse snow drifts, realization struck her like an iron. She could be happy here.
Growing up, she'd dreamed of New York, convinced herself she could only find solace in the anonymity of a giant place. She'd been wrong.
A strange fluttering feeling deep inside her stomach made her gasp. What was that? It was so subtle, like a radio turned to its lowest setting or the brush of eyelashes against a cheek. There it was again, like butterfly wings in her very center.
She pulled her gloves off and let them drop to the ground beside her snow boots. Heart hammering, she unzipped her jacket and pressed her hands against her stomach. Frozen and excited and terrified all at once, she stared at the ground as a small smile pulled at her cheeks.
"What's wrong?" Aanon asked, dropping a pair of pliers and rushing to her. "Farrah?"
"There's this fluttering in my stomach," she said, stretching her neck back to drink in the beautiful concern that knitted his eyebrows.
A hesitant smile curved his lip and fell. "The baby?"
"I think so."
"Have you felt it move before now?"
"Never."
With a startled glance at his hands, which were now clutching the jacket at her waist, he released her and took a step back. Clearing his throat, he said, "We'd better get you back so you can keep your coffee date with Ben."
"Right." But she didn't want to think about Ben or taking the ATV into town or anything but right there in that moment, where they'd both been excited about the flutter of new life.
Aanon loaded the tools and extra wire, then covered the chainsaw and secured it to the front of his ATV.
"Aanon? I won't be home right after coffee with Ben."
"You planning on getting laid after all?" It sounded like a joke, but his gaze was steely, steady.
"I'm going to go visit my mom."
His brows lowered over troubled eyes, and he leaned against his ATV, facing her. "I didn't know your mom still lived here."
"I've been putting off seeing her. She's a big reason I came back, though. I think if I talk to her, I can start to make a decision about whether to keep the baby or give it up for adoption."
His lips pursed in thought, and he plucked a long blade grass before folding it over and over itself. "Do you want me to come with you to see her?"
His offer was more chivalrous than he knew. Mom was as mean as a badger and a lot less sober. As much as she enjoyed the idea of Aanon standing up to Mom in that fearless way of his, there were some things in this world a woman had to do on her own.
And facing down her demons was one of them.
Chapter Seven
Farrah clutched the bear roast tighter to her chest and glared at the door to the mobile home. Honestly, she was surprised it was still standing. The packaged meat was heavy and cold from its brief stay in the big freezer, but maybe an offering of food would sweeten Mom up enough to answer the tough questions honestly.
Aanon had insisted she take it over. She hadn't a guess how much he actually knew of her family or situation, but every town had its rumors, and little towns most of all. He had been in the process of loading small cardboard boxes of different cuts to take to the neighbors when she'd left for town.
The coffee date with Ben had been uneventful, and she'd had trouble keeping half an hour's worth of conversation going as her stomach fluttered away, and her thoughts steered toward the internal. Maybe if she bored him enough, he'd quit pestering her. Her pants were closed for the season. Maybe he got the hint after thirty fun-filled minutes of uninteresting conversation with her.
She was stalling.
Knock, knock, knock. A treacherous little piece of her wished Mom wasn't home, but then she'd just have to come back another day. Best to do this now while she still had her nerve.
At the silence, she stood back and read the dilapidated name plate across the mailbox again. Yep, it definitely still read Fennel. If Mom didn't live here anymore, the next owners were seriously lazy.
She knocked again.
"I got it!" yelled an angry sounding man on the other side of the door. "What?" the balding man asked her when he opened it up six inches.
"Excuse me. I'm sorry to bother you, but does Brenda live here anymore?"