trouble imagining herself buried beneath the thick blankets, basking in the peaceful silence. Uriah let her go as she drifted around the room, picturing what it would look like with a few more homey touches.
“The bathroom is back there,” he told her, pointing to the door to the right.
Excited, Ivy skipped across the bare floors and gasped when she pushed open the door. Windows directly in front and to the left of her gave the illusion of swaying in the treetops, overlooking the rushing river below.
A person could sit in the huge slipper tub and be part of nature while staying cozy and warm inside. A glass shower big enough for three flanked the double vanity, and the toilet was tucked into a nook in the corner for privacy.
“The closet is through the other door,” Uriah called, laughing when she ran back out and around the fireplace to the other door.
“Holy crap.” She breathed. The closet was almost as big as the bathroom. Uriah's clothes only filled up a small portion of the shelves to her right, and on the left was a vast empty space of shelves and racks for someone else.
The jewel that drew her eye was a waist-high pedestal carved from an enormous tree trunk sitting smack dab in the middle of the room. The stump itself was every bit as impressive as the closet, hundreds of rings told the age of the once mighty tree.
“I didn't cut it down,” Uriah assured her as he came in behind her, smoothing his hand reverently over the silky soft surface of the stump. “This tree was the first thing I saw when I came out to survey the property, lying over the creek where it must have fallen during a storm.
“I counted the rings after I cut into it. You can see where changes in the soil affected the growth. Here, where the rings are wider or narrower. I used every part of it I could.”
“How old is it?”
“Two hundred and nine years old,” Uriah told her with a proud smile. “Amazing, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” she murmured, absolutely enthralled by the way Uriah had cared enough about a single tree to make sure he honored every piece of it in the house he built. “The chandelier in the dining room, it’s the roots of the same tree?”
Uriah's grin made his vibrant amber eyes flash with heat. “It took weeks to pin all the roots together and bore holes for the wiring without destroying the weave, but it's easily my favorite part of the kitchen.”
“It took my breath away,” she confessed, glad when she saw the satisfaction in his expression. There wasn't a single thing about this house that she disliked. Everything, from the fixtures to the configuration of the bedrooms, seemed like it was tailored just for her.
“I used a sawmill to cut every door in the house out of the trunk, and with all that was left over, I made the bed frame, the dining room table, and the benches, the barstools, and had just enough to make the mantle for the bedroom fireplace. This piece, though, it's hollow if you turn it over. I couldn't use it for anything else, but I didn't want to waste it.”
“It's perfect.” Ivy's reply was punctuated with the angry rumbling of her stomach.
Uriah's happy smiles faded to a deep scowl. “You're hungry.”
He said it as though he'd done something horribly wrong by not making her the breakfast he promised. She only managed to say his name before he scooped her up and carried her downstairs.
She laughed and wrapped her arms around his powerful, broad shoulders. “Uriah, I'm not going to die of starvation.”
His surly expression didn't soften, the sunlight slanting across his eyes, simmering with heat. “You're hungry. I need to feed you. It's... it’s a bear thing.”
Uriah carried her down to the kitchen, settling her down on one of his hand made, two hundred and nine-year-old barstools like she was the most precious thing he'd ever handled.
“A bear thing, huh?”
He set a bowl of fat, juicy blackberries down in front of her. “Yes. Here, start with these.”
Ivy arched her brow and popped one in her mouth, moaning as the taste burst across her tongue. They were delicious, perfectly ripe, sweet as candy, so she ate a few more.
“Speaking of bear things, I know it's rude to ask, but what kind of bear are you?”
He shrugged as he hustled around to grab a pan, a waffle iron, and all the ingredients needed