When we stood a safe distance from the cabin, he stopped and watched. I tugged at his grip until I was able to twist and see the fire. The entire cabin was in flames despite the steady downpour of rain. My feet sank into the cold mud and I grimaced, pulling them free. I found footing by standing on the sheriff's boots and leaned against his warm frame.
"What happened?" I breathed.
"Are you hurt?" he asked.
I shook my head.
"I'd say you're bad luck," he said.
I shivered, silently agreeing.
"Might help knowing who's after you," he added.
"I'm sorry about your house, but I really don't know," I responded.
"Someone didn't want you here tonight."
We were quiet, watching the cabin collapse in on itself. I felt even worse knowing he was losing everything he owned because of me. From the patchwork on his clothing and the sparse belongings I'd seen, I doubted he had a stash of money anywhere and knew there was no such thing as house insurance in this day and age.
I glanced up at him, my gaze lingering on his chiseled face. He was grim but not openly angry, and my confusion deepened. Nothing seemed to surprise him, not me falling out of the sky or even his house burning down.
"You're giving me that look again," he said without taking his eyes off his home.
One of my feet slipped off his boot, and he tightened his grip around me. I remained where I was, in no way uncomfortable being pressed against his warm, solid body. There was no denying he was sexy in a rugged, roughened way of an outlaw. It was as much his lean frame and bright eyes as his quiet confidence and strength, the direct gaze that stopped me in my tracks and saw through my flimsy attempts to lie or deceive him.
Is he trembling in his boots being so close to a woman? The thought, and the sudden urge to laugh, were ill timed.
"I'm sorry you lost your stuff," I murmured.
"We're safe. The rest don't matter." His grip tightened around me.
I relaxed against him. He didn't seem to be in the mood for talking or letting me go. I could almost see why the other girls sought him out. Protective and strong, he was sharp, focused - and determined to figure out what was going on. A familiar flutter of attraction warmed my blood. In a way, it was a relief to be around someone whose history and memories I wasn't able to access. He was too distracted to be aware of how he held me, as if we were already intimately acquainted and not strangers.