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wine, other than burgundy and white.
    “Sauvignon Blanc . Since we had chicken this evening, I thought a fresh, crisp, aromatic wine is called for.”
    “Whatever you say.”
    He chuckled. Actually chuckled . Her own body relaxed at his pleasant mood, but the sound of his rumbling laugh did funny things to her.
    He poured a splash of wine in a glass, then swirled the liquid around, inhaling the aroma. Her last date had done the same thing, intending to impress her. He couldn’t hold a candle to the sexy man who was unintentionally charming her now.
    When he touched his lips to the rim, she couldn’t take her eyes from his mouth. She watched him take a sip, following the movement of his throat as he swallowed. Warmth rushed to her center.
    He poured a generous amount into another glass and offered it to her. Their fingers brushed and she took a large gulp. If she thought the drink would relax her suddenly frazzled nerves, she was wrong. The wine was delicious, but his blue gaze heated her body temperature several degrees. Being stuck in a cabin with a man was igniting all sorts of sensual feelings.
    ***
    Hunter added another log to the fire. A peaceful mood had settled between them. Every breath he took made her more aware of his presence. A man she knew she couldn’t resist if he decided to make a move.
    Dani sat on the floor with pillows behind her back, leaning against the couch. Hunter settled beside her. As he spoke, she stared into the fire, taking quick glances at his profile. His face seemed softer in the firelight. Wisps of blond hair touched his ears, her fingers itched to smooth the strands from his cheek.
    “My uncle moved to the mountains after his third divorce. His wife found a man with more money. The divorce court said she was entitled to half of everything. Denny got so mad, he fired up a chainsaw. Said half was exactly what she’d get. He climbed on top of the house and ripped into the roof.”
    “He did not.”
    “He did.” Hunter rested his forearm on his knee, the wine glass dangling from his hand. “He actually tried to cut the house in half. He hit wires, damn near electrocuted himself. Neighbors called the fire department. His wife called the cops.”
    A comical picture formed in her head. An image of Denny on the roof with bolts of electricity shooting through him like a cartoon character. She chuckled. “Sorry. I guess it’s not funny if he got hurt.”
    Hunter shrugged. “That was his nature. Tough old bird. He’d give the shirt off his back to anyone. But he had a temper, too.”
    “He was proud of you.” She stretched her legs out, which had started to tingle from sitting on them too long.
    “He died while I was in Afghanistan. I never even made it to the funeral.” Hunter’s fingers tightened on the stem of his glass. “He was in the ground before I found out about his accident.”
    She wanted to comfort him and wasn’t sure how. “He didn’t linger. Henry talked to him on the radio every day except Sunday. Denny had dinner with Aunt Fay on Sundays. When no one heard from him, someone came out, and found him.”
    “Why haven’t we ever met before?” He shifted.
    She wasn’t surprised by the change of topic.
    “About the time Denny moved here, I’d just finished college. Now I live in New York. When I came back for the holidays, I never saw you either.”
    “That’s a shocker.
    She turned to him. “Why do you say that?”
    “New York is one giant step from a small village. Wyattsville’s population is what? Less than a thousand? You were raised here. Yet you decided to stay in the big city.”
    The bright lights of the city had seemed exciting, once. As a young girl with big dreams, eager to see the world—well, it seemed so long ago. The thrill of her accomplishment had worn off. There were days when she thought, maybe she’d lost her mind for staying there.
    “You make me sound like a snob.”
    He shrugged. “If you prefer a mad house to this quiet place.”