Page 27 of Tragic (Lark Cove 3)

Everyone loved my skillet cookies.

And even though my own skillets were in a storage unit until my house was remodeled, I’d found a skillet to use temporarily at a sporting goods store in Kalispell a couple of weeks ago.

If Kaine didn’t like sweets, I had no problem eating the entire cookie myself.

Life was too short to skip dessert on Saturday nights. And my curves wouldn’t maintain themselves.

A loud gust of wind rolled over the Airstream, and I glanced out the window. The wind had been steadily picking up all afternoon, and the treetops weren’t just slow dancing now, they were doing the polka.

Not wanting the camp chair I’d set up outside to go blowing down the mountain, I hustled out the door to fold it up.

“Hey.” Kaine’s deep rumble caught my attention.

I spun around to see him striding along the path between our homes. The chair slipped from my hands.

“Hi,” I breathed, raking my eyes over sheer magnificence.

Kaine wore his signature tan pants—Carhartts, I think they were called. The sporting goods store in Kalispell where I’d bought my skillet had racks and racks of those thick, canvas pants. Apparently, they were a staple in Montana menswear because of their durability.

I knew from tugging them off his narrow hips that they were heavier than jeans. I knew from watching him leave my camper, shirtless and still glossy with sweat, that they accentuated his incredible ass.

I tore my eyes away from his beefy thighs flexing beneath my new favorite brand of pants and forced them upward, over his flat stomach.

He was wearing a hunter-green Henley and had bunched up the long sleeves, baring his forearms. They were tanned and snaked with veins. His biceps pulled tight at the thermal weave, and since he’d left the buttons undone at the collar, it hinted at the chest hair that covered his pecs.

My gaze drifted higher to his face and I licked my lips. Not even my skillet cookies were as mouthwatering as Kaine Reynolds.

The color of his shirt made the green in his eyes stand out and the gold flecks darker, more like copper. He’d trimmed his beard today. It was still thick, but he’d cut it back enough so I could see the contours of his square jaw.

My god, he did it for me. Head to toe, Kaine Reynolds was magic.

Just the sight of him made my lady parts quiver and my heart do a funny flip. Even when we were in love, my heart had never flipped for Adam. I refused to think about what that meant.

Instead, I pictured Adam wearing Kaine’s clothes and stifled a laugh. Adam would have looked like a fool in those clothes, an imposter portraying a rugged character. He lacked Kaine’s natural grit and edge.

My neighbor’s long legs ate up the distance between us quickly, and before I was ready to stop gawking, he was standing in front of me.

“Hi,” I repeated. “How are you?”

“Good.” He bent down for the chair I’d forgotten, folding it up and propping it against the camper.

“You’re right on time. I’ll get dinner started but I forgot to ask what you liked yesterday. Are steak and potatoes okay?”

He nodded. “Great.”

“Okay. Would you like a beer or wine? I have red and white.” Along with sparkling water, milk and three kinds of soda in case he didn’t drink.

“Beer’s fine.”

Why did he keep grunting short answers? I was sweating again but smiled, hoping to put him at ease.

He had this odd look in his eyes, one I’d seen a couple of times over the last day. His mouth turned down on one side, not a complete frown, but the beginning of one. His eyebrows slanted together at the center, creating a deep crease above the wide bridge of his nose. And his eyes seemed to go in and out of focus, like he was being torn between past and present. The swirls of gold and brown and green dulled to a muddy mixture of all three.

I wanted to hug him.

But instead of wrapping my arms around those broad shoulders, I did the only thing I could think of to steal his attention.

I rambled.