But she was anything but a girl, small stature or not. She might be thin from the effects of her illness right now, but she still had a woman’s curve to her hips. The nipples that puckered so prettily crowned breasts that would nicely fill even his big hands. She was small, but she was all woman.
And the last thing he needed was to be stuck in a cabin with her while this storm blew through.
He cast a glance at the sky, then at the wood. Enough for now—he had winter gear and might need an excuse to get outside all too soon, anyway.
With quick steps, he walked to the line where she’d hung the clothes she’d so painstaking washed. When he pulled his jeans off the line, he shook his head. They were still soaking wet, but how had those small hands ever wrung them out in the first place?
Then he reached her panties and bras, and his hand stilled. Though he’d taken them off her when he was trying to bring down her fever, he hadn’t really paid attention. Now he touched the lace, the tiny triangles of silky fabric. Heat flared through him, racing down nerve paths too long dormant.
With a ripe curse, Mitch snatched them from the line and added them to his bundle, focusing only on clothespins the rest of the way.
He stalked toward the cabin, pushing the door open.
Perrie’s head jerked up from where she’d set a chair before the fire. When she met his gaze, color rushed into her face.
“Mitch! Look at Mom,” Davey giggled. “Your clothes are too big.”
That was an understatement. She’d had to roll the legs up so many times that they formed an inner tube around her ankles. The bulky rolls at her wrists were the same. With her hair still wet, she looked like a half-drowned waif.
A beautiful, self-conscious waif.
Treat her like she’s Davey. Like she’s a child who needs tending for a while.
Not like a woman. Anything but a woman.
“Here.” He dropped the pile of wet clothing on the kitchen table. “I’ll get a rope to string across the room.” He left the cabin.
Fast.
Perrie watched him go, then turned toward the fire to dry her hair. In minutes, he was back with a length of rope, nails and a hammer. His face closed in as if shutters had been latched, he quickly and efficiently strung a clothesline from one wall of the living area, crossing in front of the fire and extending to the kitchen wall.
She turned toward the pile of clothing.
He moved up beside her. “Go sit down.”
She bristled. “I can do this.”
He muttered darkly and pulled the top garment, a pair of his jeans, off the pile.
He was too close. Perrie wanted to back away.
Then she grabbed a shirt next. Beneath it lay a pair of her panties.
She grabbed for them at the same time he reached into the pile. Their hands brushed. It felt like someone had touched her with a live wire.
She gasped faintly and jerked back, her gaze jumping to his.
Dark eyes turned darker, meeting hers for an incandescent second. A muscle leapt in his jaw.
“Here,” he almost growled, holding out the pink scrap to her.
The sight of her panties in his hands did something to her insides. Shot down her veins as hot as the blaze in her cheeks. Perrie grabbed for the pink lace and stuffed it under the shirt she was holding.
“If you think you can hang these up, I’ll head for your car.” He bit off every word as thought it cost him to utter each one.
She didn’t look at him. “You don’t have to do that.”
“You sure as hell can’t. Give me the keys.”
“You don’t know where I parked.”
“I’m a tracker. I’ll find it.”
“I don’t—”
“Hiding something?”
Oh, no. They couldn’t have this discussion.
“No,” she said quickly. “I just—it’s a lot of trouble for you, that’s all.”
“This storm could last one day or several. You want to be washing those out every day?”
She didn’t have to look to know what those were. Her fingers tightened around the wet bundle in her arms.
No, she didn’t want to have to do that. It wasn’t a problem to hang them out in front of Davey. He had long dismissed them as just underwear, no different from his SpongeBob briefs. But they felt like waving a red flag in front of a bull now, with Mitch around.
And it wasn’t as though she had anything in the car but clothes and toys, anyway. Just that there was so much, more than most people would take on a simple visit.
She didn’t have to tell him anything. He didn’t like talking, anyway. And soon, they’d be gone.
That thought made her stomach clench. She still didn’t know where they’d go. But it looked like she had a few days’ reprieve, thanks to Mother Nature.