My Alpha Stepbrother Called Me a Gold Digger, So I Bought His Father's Note novel · Chapter 22 of 24

Chapter 22: Heat, On Purpose

The cabin sat on a shelf of grass above the Marias, with the river a long gray ribbon in the cut below and the breaks falling away in folds of sage and clay.

He had driven us out in his father's old Ford, over eleven miles of two-track, with my bag between us on the seat.

It was the nineteenth of October.

I had felt the first heat-wave at the grocery store the day before, and I'd gone home and packed.

The cabin was one room, built of logs gone silver with age.

There was a woodstove, a table with two chairs and a wide iron bed with a quilt on it that had been his great-grandmother's.

The windows looked out in three directions, and in the fourth there was a door.

He lit the stove.

I stood in the middle of the floor with my hand on my stomach and breathed through the first rolling ache.

"It's early," I said.

"You said the nineteenth."

"It's the nineteenth," said Soren.

"It's nine in the morning.

"I'd say you're on time."

I laughed.

It broke off in the middle, because the second wave came up through me and my knees went soft.

He was beside me before I'd fallen.

His arm came around my waist, and I smelled him, wheat and snow and the dark thing under it, and every cell I owned turned toward it.

"Soren," I said.

"I know," he said.

"I've got you."

He did not put me on the bed.

He stood holding me, and I understood that he was waiting.

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