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completely bare as he took a piss.
    “Shit, sor ry,” I said, averting my eyes, but the image remained burned behind my eyelids, allowing me to see that meaty butt and thick, muscular legs over and over again.
    “Sorry,” he said, pulling his pants up and flushing the toilet. “I should have locked the door.”
    “What are you doing peeing in the dark?”
    He shrugged. “I didn’t want to bother with the lights.”
    “You’d better have damn good aim, then.”
    “My aim is impeccable.”
    I rolled my eyes. “You know, I’m getting very sick of seeing your ass everywhere.”
    He raised one playful eyebrow. “Are you now?” he asked and suddenly it was as if the room had shrunk in size and he was taking up more than his fair share of it.
    My first instinct when faced with a dark hulking figure was to retreat, but I stood my ground. I wasn’t about to let him see me intimidated. Even if he was incredibly, attractively intimidating.
    He took a step closer until we were almost touching. If I took a deep breath, my breasts would touch his bare chest. I hated that I was so aware of him, as if my body was tuned into his pheromone frequency and couldn’t get enough. But I supposed that’s what happened to people when they’ve been celibate for so long. To be honest, I just hadn’t met anyone I’d felt physically attracted to.
    Until now.
    “Excuse me,” he said with that playful little smile.
    “Can I help you?”
    “I’m just trying to leave.”
    I walked out into the hallway to let him pass. His arm brushed mine as he walked by, making my skin tingle in its wake. At the bedroom door, he flashed me a look over his shoulder, the darkness concealing his expression. “Goodnight, Kat,” he said. “Sweet dreams.”
    Finally alone in the bathroom, I splashed cold water on my face and tried my best to calm my nerves. One day. One freaking day and already I was panting after this man like I was in heat. I’d hate to see what would happen if we had a week.
     
    I woke the next morning shivering from the cold. Even Josie, who was normally fine with the cold weather, was snuggled up behind me with her face buried under a pillow.
    “ Holy hell, it’s freezing,” I said, my breath coming out in white wisps. This trailer was fine during milder weather but every now and then, when the temperatures dipped below a certain level, the house just said “Fuck it” and gave up trying to retain heat. Today it seemed was one of those days.
    I hid my head beneath the blanket and tried to go back to sle ep. It was there in my warm cocoon that I suddenly remembered I had a guest. I jumped out of bed, swearing as the chill stung my skin, and pulled on a pair of sweatpants, sweatshirt, and a pair of wool socks. I smelled something in the air, telling me that the stranger was already up.
    I threw my door open and skidded to a halt. He was standing by the west window, wearing my father’s pants and dark blue fisherman’s sweater. The stranger was looking out over the snowy landscape as he held my favorite Christmas mug in his hand. He looked so beautiful in the wan morning light, his strong, dark profile contrasting the vast whiteness outside.
    He turned to me with a smile that jumpstarted my heart. “Morning,” he said with that deep, rumbly voice of his.
    It struck me then, as the aroma wafted up my nose, that the mug he was holding was filled with coffee. “You made coffee?”
    He grinned and in several long steps he was in the kitchen, pouring me a cup.
    “I’ve never woken up t o fresh coffee before,” I said, accepting the mug gratefully and taking a long pull from the dark liquid. It was at that perfect temperature, still hot but not enough to burn. I moaned into the cup. “Why does coffee taste better when I’m not the one who made it?”
    “Because your tears of bitterne ss are not mixed in?” he teased with a twinkle in his eyes.
    I chuckled into my cup.
    “You should laugh like that more often,” he