Demon Fire (Angel Fire #3) - Marie Johnston Page 0,23
of long johns and snow pants?
He’d poured his damn heart out three days ago. He hadn’t told anyone his story. His parents were gone. Any friends he’d thought he’d had were absent during his recovery and the trials. Sierra’d had the sympathy in her eyes that he’d been dreading, and then it was gone. She hadn’t treated him differently since.
They’d gone to town like he’d said they would. She’d waited in the pickup while he’d run into the gas station for bait and other ice-fishing supplies. Out of the garage, he’d dug the auger he’d gotten his first winter in the cabin and the two fishing poles he kept on hand. He’d packed a propane heater and a shelter he could throw up like a tent. Last in the pickup had been a tackle box that had everything else they should need.
Then he’d driven to one of the two small lakes outside of Green Valley. Three other fishermen had their spots chosen and were hunkered down for the waiting game that was fishing.
Sierra’s excitement while he set up was as fresh as the mountain air around them. It didn’t faze her that he’d forgotten stools to sit on while waiting for fish to bite. She had used the tackle box and he’d taken the cooler he hoped to fill with a couple of fish. It’d be a nice change from rabbit and pheasant.
She sat on her knees. “I swear I saw something swim by.”
“You probably did.”
She bit her lower lip and leaned back over the hole for one more peek before she rocked back onto the tackle box. Tapping the fingers of her gloves together, she puffed her breath out to make a cloud of condensation. “I’ve tried to think of some hobbies, but you’ll have to help me brainstorm.”
“You’ve seen the extent of my hobbies. I don’t think I’m the guy to ask.”
“I don’t know if I’ll be able to tolerate the smell of the bait to give fishing a go.” She wrinkled her nose. “It must be the lack of pollution. My sense of smell is so sensitive now.”
“You don’t always have to use bait. Figuring out when and where you want to use it is part of the hobby.”
She pressed her gloved hand against her belly. “We’ll see how I react to catching a fish.”
“If we catch a fish.”
“If.” Her innocent smile wormed its way further into his being.
Alarm bells went off. He should find somewhere else for her. There were places set up for people like her. People with little for identification who needed a fresh start. Did Green Valley have a women’s shelter?
The thought of dropping her off and leaving her in his rearview made him cranky. Not even the thought of stretching out on his bed instead of a cramped couch cheered him up. His quiet cabin was a little less quiet with her and he didn’t mind. This winter was already better than the last two.
An hour ticked by with nothing. They lobbed hobbies back and forth. Good ideas, but not feasible for the middle of winter in Montana. Spelunking. Coffee roasting. Fantasy football.
She laughed. “I’d have to learn a little about football first. It’s the oblong ball, right? Not the round ball?”
“Soccer?” He chuckled. “I don’t want to stereotype, but what about knitting or art or something?”
Her eyes twinkled. “Right, because I have boobs, I must like those.”
A swath of heat ripped through him. He was wearing far too many layers, but he’d need them all to hide his erection if she kept mentioning her breasts. Her winter coat hid them nicely. “I can try to knit with you.”
“I need something to do without a huge start-up kit. Maybe sketching? I don’t think I’ve drawn anything since I was a kid and even then I only drew daggers.” But then she rolled her lips in like she’d said something wrong.
“You’re a fantasy nerd? Is that it?” he joked.
“Busted. A lot of females—uh, girls I grew up with did needlepoint. Though I never had the patience. I’d rather stab someone with the needle.”
He grinned. “We’ll stay away from knitting needles, then. Video games? My son was getting into them.” His smile almost faded, but talking about Adam didn’t hurt as much as it used to. “Minecraft was all his mother would let him play.”
“I’ve heard of it, but it’s not exactly a cheap hobby.”
“True.” Except he’d buy her anything she asked. He filed the information away. “Bird-watching? I can buy a deck of