he only knew where he could find the answers. The notes had given him lots of new words, ones he had to figure out the meaning for by how they were used. But he was good at figuring things out—he always had been.
Jak took off the bow and arrow from his back and sat on a fallen tree. He took out one of the arrows and picked up a flat rock from the ground and started pretending to sharpen the arrow as his eyes moved around, looking here and there, in a way someone watching him couldn’t tell.
It took him a long time before he saw the tiny flash of dark something that didn’t belong. It was in another tree to the side of the river bank. He’d have never seen it if he wasn’t looking for it. It was high up in one of the evergreens—just like the one in the front of his house—that stayed green all year round, so it’d never be uncovered by falling leaves.
His head spun. What does this mean?
CHAPTER THIRTY
Harper opened both eyes, blinking around. Reality filtered in in small pieces. An ice storm. No signal. Missed shift. Lucas. No, Jak. “Damn,” she whispered, concern bringing her fully out of sleep and prompting her to sit up and look around. Her head turned immediately to the bed where Jak had slept the night before, but it was empty.
Why did she always sleep so hard when she couldn’t manage more than a few hours at a time at home? Because you’re alone. Listening for . . . danger. All right, so she knew the problem, just not how to fix it. Apparently her subconscious felt no danger here though, and she slept soundly. There was a piece of fur on the floor under her, and she’d been kept warm by his blanket once again, while he’d slept without it. She’d tried to resist taking his blanket, but Jak had simply shaken his head and shoved it at her. She’d assuaged any guilt by telling herself he was right by the fire. And he was bigger than her. Quite a lot bigger.
Where was he? Harper got up, pulling on her boots and her jacket and opening the door to his cabin. She sucked in a small gasp as she took in the surroundings: a world shimmering and sparkling and seemingly made entirely of ice.
She took a tentative step outside, awe-struck by the gleaming forest floor and the icicle-laden tree branches. It felt like a wonderland, and a spark of childlike delight flared inside her. She took the steps slowly, holding the railing, being careful not to slip. Her feet crunched into the thin layer of ice covering the snow as she walked around the side of his house, headed toward the outdoor “facilities.”
When she stepped around the corner, she came to an immediate halt, her eyes widening as her mouth opened on a sudden intake of air. Jak was standing in the snow, shirtless, his jeans still unbuttoned and resting low on his hips, rubbing a piece of cloth over his wet hair. He raised his head at the small sound of surprise, the cloth he held lowering as his blue eyes speared her.
“Sorry,” she said breathlessly. “I didn’t know”—she raised her hand, indicating his half state of undress—“that you were, um . . .” She tried to look away, she really did, but his shoulders were so broad, his chest so beautifully sculpted, each muscle defined, his skin reddened from the cold, his small flat nipples—
“Showering?”
“What?”
He looked at her in confusion, his brows knitting together. “I was showering.”
“In the snow?”
He moved closer and it surprised her that she experienced no impulse to move away. “I have to if I want to stay clean in the winter.”
“Yes. Oh, of course. It’s just . . . it looks very . . . uh . . . uh . . .”
“Cold?” He lowered his head, his lip tilting up a bit, teasing.
“Huh?”
He frowned again, his eyes running over her. She was obviously confusing him. She was just sort of . . . slack-jawed and useless with him standing there like that. A half-naked snow warrior, scarred and exuding so much testosterone it must be addling her brain. Unbidden, her gaze dropped to the sparse line of dark hair on his flat stomach, following it slowly downward. “You can use it . . .”