Witness On The Run

He glanced in her direction, brow furrowed. He seemed uncomfortable with her proximity, and was possibly confused about what she wanted from him. Tala struggled to pinpoint it herself. She knew he was hung up on his wife, and not interested in sex. Or not interested in her. Whatever his reasons, she felt safe with him.

She wouldn’t drag him into her problems, but she could ask him for one small thing. “Will you...hold me?”

He drew in a ragged breath, as if tortured by the thought.

“Just until I fall asleep,” she said, to make her wishes clear. “Nothing more.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

She searched his features in the dark, uncertain what he meant. His eyes glinted with something she’d seen before. Something he’d been trying to hide. The desire she’d sensed earlier flared between them, like a new spark.

He wasn’t so disinterested.

She altered her request. “Can I hold you?”

After a short hesitation, he rolled onto his side, facing away from her. She hugged his back, spoon-style. It was the best of both worlds. She could cuddle him and enjoy the simple pleasure of human touch without worrying about him getting aroused. He could lay there and be her teddy bear, no strings attached.

She slipped her arm around him and closed her eyes. He was warm and hard-muscled. Solidly built, like a protective shield. She could feel his heartbeat under her palm, strong and sure. He covered her hand with his and linked their fingers together. Her throat tightened with emotion. She hadn’t felt peace or contentment in such a long time. His presence filled an empty place inside her she hadn’t known was there.

She savored him for as long as she could before she fell asleep.

Chapter 6 (#u0ab8344d-c16a-5c50-a33b-12b9ae170066)

December 1265N-5 degrees

Cam got dressed in the dark.

He pulled on his jeans over thermal underwear and shoved his feet into steel-toed boots. His long-sleeved T-shirt provided minimal warmth against the morning chill, but he didn’t grab his jacket. He wanted to feel the cold bite of winter, and he did. It had snowed overnight. Powder crunched beneath his soles as he crossed the dark, deserted parking lot. Frosty air filled his lungs and penetrated his clothing.

He made his way toward the front office, which was open but unmanned. The smell of fresh-brewed coffee awaited him. He helped himself to two cups. He didn’t know if Tala liked cream and sugar, so he grabbed packets of both.

“There’s oatmeal,” Ann said, emerging from another room.

He glanced at the cooking pot next to the carafe. His stomach growled with interest, but his hands were already full. “I’ll come back for it.”

“I can deliver two bowls to your cabin.”

A flush crept up his neck at the thought of Ann coming to his door and catching a glimpse of Tala in his bed. He felt like a teenager who didn’t want his mom to find out his girlfriend had slept over. “No need.”

Ann smiled at his quick response. “Thanks for splitting logs.”

“I enjoy the work.”

She nodded, and he escaped the cozy space in a hurry. He had no reason to be embarrassed. He hadn’t done anything wrong. He’d slept next to Tala without crossing the line. Even if their night hadn’t been innocent, so what? Surely Ann had seen worse in her days as innkeeper. Drunken hookups, seedy affairs, hard partying. She wouldn’t blink an eye at Cam’s pretty young guest. Unless she assumed he was married, which might be the case. He was still wearing his wedding ring.

He winced at the oversight. He’d put it on again a few weeks ago, after a disastrous Thanksgiving at his parents’ house. His mother had invited one of Jenny’s friends—one of her single friends—in a clear attempt at matchmaking. He’d left as soon as possible, claiming he had an important delivery.

Women had flirted with him before, and he’d felt nothing. No whisper of temptation. No need to armor himself with proof of his lack of availability. This time was different. He hadn’t been interested in Jenny’s friend. He’d thought of the waitress at Walt’s Diner, someone he hardly knew, and he’d been struck by a wave of intense longing, mixed with sorrow. It hit him like an avalanche, knocking him off-balance. He’d found his ring and slipped it on. He’d needed a protective shield, because his attraction to the waitress had triggered new pain. His grief had felt staggering, insurmountable.

That was the problem with moving on. It hurt more than standing still.

He took the coffee to the cabin and set the cups down on the mantel by the fire. He poked the ashes and added some wood. Tala stirred at the sound. She sat up in bed with an abruptness that suggested she’d forgotten where she was. Her gaze connected with his, and recognition dawned. She returned to a reclining position, her trepidation fading.

She trusted him not to try anything sexual. Which made sense, he supposed, because he’d kept his hands to himself all night. But if she could’ve read his thoughts in the wee hours of the morning—or right now, for that matter—she wouldn’t look so relaxed. Because he wanted to climb into bed with her. He wanted to kiss away the hurt her husband had caused and show her how a real man treated a woman.

Heat crept up his neck at the thought. Of course he wasn’t going to make a move on her. He wasn’t ready for that kind of intimacy. He was still wearing his wedding ring. The only way to stay numb was to keep his distance.

“I brought you a coffee,” he said. “Do you want oatmeal?”

She nodded, rising to her feet. She looked rumpled and sexy in his flannel shirt. Her eyes were sleepy, her legs a mile long. When she tugged on the fabric to make sure she was covered, he averted his gaze. He knew she was bare beneath it. He’d seen her pale blue panties hanging in the bathroom. He’d touched them this morning—to see if they were dry. To feel the silky material and imagine it against her skin.

After she went into the bathroom, he released a slow breath. He needed to get a grip before he embarrassed himself. He cleared his throat and left the cabin, sucking in the cold air. There were two servings of oatmeal in disposable cups with lids at the front desk. He carried them back to the room, plastic spoons in hand. Tala was sitting by the fire, sipping coffee. They shared a simple hot breakfast in silence.

He wasn’t eager to get on the road again, despite his discomfort in her presence. He wanted to make sure she was safe before he left town. He hadn’t expected to be so concerned about her welfare, but they were in an unusual situation. They’d spent the past twenty-four hours together. They’d shared personal stories. They’d even held hands.

Cam might be numb, but he wasn’t dead. His protective instincts were working overtime. So was his libido, if he was being honest.

“Do you have another load to deliver?” she asked.

He nodded. “I’m supposed to pick it up this morning.”

“What direction are you headed?”

“North, on the Dalton.”

It wasn’t a trip she could take with him. The Dalton Highway was the deadliest stretch of road in Alaska. There were almost no facilities, and constant obstacles. Whiteouts, avalanches, ice patches, snowdrifts.

“You could stay here,” he said, on impulse.

“In Fairbanks?”

“In this cabin.”

Her lips parted with surprise. She hadn’t expected him to make this offer. That made two of them.

“I know the owner of this place, like I said. She might hire you.”

“To split logs?”

“Or for lighter work.”

“I can handle heavy work.”

He believed her.

“The owner is a woman?”

“Yes.”