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“Just whaddya think yer doin’, woman?”

“What?” Her tone was guileless and slightly defensive. “Nothing…nothing!” She clapped the object in question shut, suddenly looking guilty. A grunt escaped him.

“Ya wanted ta come out an’ rough it. That ain’t roughing it. Yer s’posed ta be on a vacation.”

“This is my idea of a vacation. I like to get away to write, it helps me loosen up!”

“Ya wanted ta get away. Ya can write any time at home. So that means no laptops. What vacation means while yer here with me includes or may exceed the following. We hike. We eat. We rough it. We stargaze.” This was met by a brief snort, but his expression was warm. “We cuddle under a quilt when it gets cold outside.”

“Cuddling.” She latched onto the word hopefully, testing it on her lips. “You never mentioned anything about cuddling.”

“Call it an amenity.” His smile rose a notch, matched by a wicked gleam in his eye. “Comes with turndown service an’ a wake-up call.” Heat flooded her cheeks, and her lips twisted impishly from behind the curtain of white hair as she ducked her face.

Logan stood in the doorway of the rustic-looking bedroom, arms crossed over his broad chest. He was dressed for the outdoors in a thick, black down jacket and stiff Levi’s. His boots showed signs of wear and tear expected of his active lifestyle. His cheeks were already slightly ruddy from the cold, as were the tips of his ears. Ororo dutifully rose from the wedding ring quilted, queen-sized bed in the guest room and met him by the door. He stiffened when she touched him, reaching up to smooth an errant lock of his hair. She found that a handy excuse for tweaking his ear and rubbing some warmth back into his chilled flesh.

“Poor baby,” she mused. “You’re all cold.”

“I’m warmin’ up, slowly but surely,” he shrugged. He was enjoying her nearness and addictive scent. His body leaned in toward hers instinctively, almost magnetically. His knotted scarf grazed her breasts as she palmed his jaw.

“I could help you with that,” she offered huskily as her breath steamed his lips. Voices warred inside his head, and his hands itched to reach for her and drag her back onto the bed, make short work of her clothes…

“Uh-uh.”

“What?” The spell was broken. He almost laughed at the look of disbelief on her face.

“I’m gonna help ya into yer coat, an’ we’re heading outside. I wanna show ya around.”

“You already gave me the nickel tour,” she pouted. He was already backing away from her, even though he regretted it.

“Just of the cabin. Ya haven’t seen the grounds yet. You’ll like it,” he promised. She snorted indignantly. “Ya will.” Ororo threw him a dirty look over her shoulder as she rummaged in her satchel and retrieved an impractically thin cashmere scarf. The periwinkle blue brought out her eyes, and he stared at her slender throat as she covered it, tying the soft knit around it.

Unbidden, the memory of her red gown at the restaurant and of that mouth licking up ice cream in a crowded restaurant caught him in a choke hold. Damn it.

“Tell me that ain’t all yer wearin’, as cold as it is out today!”

“Of course not,” she chided him, reaching for her thick coat hanging over the bed post. He sighed as she fastened the large tortoiseshell buttons, but Logan contented himself with straightening out her collar and freeing the length of thick waves caught underneath.

“I’m gonna hafta save ya from yerself. Didn’t yer mother ever tell ya ta bundle up in the cold so ya don’t get sick?” She stuck out her tongue at him.

“I grew up in the cold. Upstate New York, before I ever moved to the Cape. Cold enough that your lips cracked when you smiled.”

“Ouch,” he murmured thoughtfully as he traced her lower one, pouty and full, inviting caresses. She toyed with the zipper pull on his jacket, looking like a woman on a mission. Naked. Warm inside. Let’s hibernate… Logan felt a clench in his loins and shook it off. There she was, doing it to him again. He collected her hand from his coat and nipped the tip of her finger.

Amidst more pouting, chiding and muttered reassurances, they were off, tramping down the wooden steps and into the snowy brush.


~0~

“I think the sooner we can get started, the better,” Magnus informed Pietro as they settled in the conference room. Magnus’ secretary, Magda, stood and drew the blinds in the spacious room and asked if any of them wanted water. Magnus gently waved away the offer before Pietro could voice his own needs.

“You said it was urgent,” he mused.

“Indeed. I wanted to speak with you about our accounts with AlphLight and some inconsistencies with how the deal was closed and finalized. We have records of paying our premiums in June, here, on the first.”

“Certainly. It was a timely payment that we posted the same day,” Pietro assured him confidently.

“It’s how it was credited that concerns us. We appreciate your part in helping us establish our holdings with your firm, Pietro, but allow me to be blunt. One of your agents, your predecessor, I believe, wasn’t credited with closure of the sale, nor was he given the commission he had due.” He handed Pietro a copy of his ledger sheet, prepared by his own admin. Magda looked grave sitting beside him as she shuffled the sheaf of papers into a tidy stack.

“My predecessor?” Pietro echoed hollowly, slowly allowing his smile to fade. “I came into this firm in a newly created position. My own achievements should be under discussion here, not those of someone who isn’t even with the company anymore!”

“His achievements appear to be your achievements.” Magnus’ voice was wry. Lorna sat motionless and stunned; Pietro felt an ugly, hot flush rise up from his collar to his hairline as he fumed. Disbelief knotted his stomach and made him taste metal. “The ledger dates and premiums tell us something we aren’t pleased to hear, Mr. Maximoff. We feel you diverted the funds we entrusted to your company.” Pietro scanned the conference room numbly; his fingertips felt icy.

His hands landed on Mac Hudson and his plump admin, Clementine. He suppressed a sneer at the strange gleam in her eyes. I know what you did, her face seemed to say. He longed to wrap his hands around the flabby folds of her neck and squeeze until her eyes “

“Have you anything to say for yourself, Pietro?” Magnus removed his reading glasses and dangled them by the gold wire stems.

“I’m not sure why I need to explain myself, sir.” He laid down the ledger and leaned back in his chair, smoothing out the cuff of his suit jacket.

They were a study in similarities as their eyes challenged each other across the table. Magnus was a well-maintained man in his early sixties, a hop, skip and a jump from retirement that would still find him working a nine to five, even if only as a consultant or contractor. His gleaming, silver waves of hair owed their brilliance to an excellent barber. He favored a no-nonsense black, wool gabardine suit that made him look like a banker. His face was scantly lined and deep brackets framed thin, well-shaped lips. His eyes were narrow and a flinty gray that only hosted warmth when he laughed.

Pietro was lean and trim. His broad shoulders tapered to a waistline free of love handles of excessive living. He was also conservatively coifed and wore Stacey Adams wing tips gleaming with polish. Anyone on the street would mistake the two men for father and son just by token of their charismatic bearing and sharp features. Magnus, for all intents and purposes, was the kind of man Pietro pictured himself as in twenty, no, thirty years.

Those dreams crashed and collided against the porcelain as they were flushed down the toilet. Cold prickles washed over him despite the warmth of the conference room.

“I don’t know that it would help you, even if you could, son. Magda has something for you. It’s a copy of the contract agreement countersigned and executed by a James Howlett, with the terms of service and acceptance of the policy he sold to Dane Holdings and its subsidiaries.” His voice grew more steady and monotone as he paraphrased the language in the agreement. “Note where it says that the undersigned, Dane Holdings, LLC, reserves the right to appeal any breach of the terms of contract and invoke its termination pending review?”

“Breach of contract?” Pietro’s voice sounded foreign to his own ears. “We’ve made no breach of contract.”

“Pay particular attention to this clause about conflicts of interest. Miss Dane, I was somewhat surprised to see you here today at this conference, but it might have proved a godsend and eliminated an additional meeting and review by Human Resources.” She stifled a gasp and clenched her fists in her lap. Pietro caught a glimpse of white knuckles from the corner of his eye and felt tension leaking from her body. He stiffened and ignored her discomfiture. “We were initially ecstatic to hear that someone with credentials as impressive as yours, Pietro, would be handling the acquisition of her accounts. Your education and experience precede you, but it couldn’t be a coincidence that Dane Holdings was the first client you assumed from Mr. Howlett during his exit.”

“He took early retirement, one of the options we offered him when his position was dissolved,” Mac explained cordially. Pietro saw something steely in the older man’s gaze. Smug bastard. He knew where his loyalties lay.

“Lorna, when you exited Dane Holdings, your employee performance records were impeccable. However, you signed a no-compete agreement when you resigned, stating that you were leaving behind any and all benefits and intellectual property of Dane Holdings, LLC. Including account date and financial information meant to be confidential, regardless of business transactions between firms that are potentially our competitors, no matter the relationship.”

“Mr. Lensherr,” she began nervously, stammering, “surely you don’t believe…I resigned!”

“We pulled your personnel file,” Mac informed her crisply. “You came to work for AlphLight two weeks before Pietro assumed his position. In light of the information we discovered while we reviewed Pietro’s activities, you can’t be surprised that we reviewed yours, as well, as his personal, executive assistant.”

“I-I…please, you’ve got it all wrong, it isn’t…” Her blue eyes welled with tears. Lorna’s hand drifted across the table toward Pietro. She stared at him beseechingly, revealing the real relationship between them. Pietro’s brow knotted with anger. Shut up, woman, shut up! “I didn’t do anything appropriate. I left the company in good circumstances, with no ill will! I’d never jeopardize Dane Holdings, when you treated me so well!”

“Unfortunately, Ms. Dane, your subsequent employment here following so shortly after your resignation raised a few eyebrows and made it necessary to investigate. That included having our information technicians retrieve your outgoing email. Your working relationship with Mr. Maximoff has been noted as inappropriate for employer and subordinate.”

“What do you mean?” she sobbed. Clementine and Magda watched her with little pity.

“Your employment here has been terminated forthwith. Clementine will be on hand while you clear out your desk of your belongings. Then you will be escorted out of the building. Your security clearance will be revoked, including all passwords, badges and certificates.”

“That’s not fair! How can you do this to me? ‘Tro…they can’t do this!” she sobbed, ending on a hiss. Her tearstained stare pinned him but left him cold.

“Pietro, in light of the information disclosed during our review, you’re being asked to resign from AlphLight Industries and its subsidiaries forthwith.”

“Asking me to resign? I’m being canned,” Pietro argued stonily. His jaw worked as he fought to contain his rage. It burned hotly in his stomach and radiated from his pores. Fired. Those bastards. I worked my way to the top, you sonofabitch. Old, dried up bastard. You were just waiting to shove me and watch me fall… Pietro heard a droning, piercing scream in his ears that made his temples ache.

“We’d prefer to document your departure from the company as a resignation; the public at large doesn’t need to know how you were separated. Dane Holdings and AlphLight hold the common interest in avoiding bad press. Mr. Hudson’s director has prepared your severance materials here. You may take these and review; feel free to retain legal counsel if you don’t agree with the terms of the paperwork…”

“Of course I don’t agree,” Pietro laughed humorlessly, throwing up his hands and shoving himself away from the table.

“Mr. Maximoff,” Magnus cautioned. “I advise you to remain calm until we’re ready to adjourn. Do you understand the topics discussed at this meeting?”

“Fuck understanding,” he grated through clenched teeth. His face was dark with anger, and he plowed his hands through his carefully combed waves of hair. He suddenly looked disheveled and cast adrift, all signs of the confident young buck wiped away.

“Pietro,” Magnus sighed, “don’t make me call security. Mr. Hudson, would you please see Mr. Maximoff and Ms. Dane out?”


~0~

“Bet you can’t do that again,” Ororo challenged. Logan’s glance was sly and smug as he hooked the flat stone between his finger and thumb. A quick whip of his wrist sent it flying over the surface of the pond, cracking the thin cake of ice spreading across its surface. “Show-off.”

“Can’t help it if I’m the best,” he shrugged. She lightly shoved him with her shoulder.

“The best at rock skipping.”

“Eh. Why not?”

“Gads…this is what you do with your retirement?”

“Among other things.”

“Such as?”

“This,” he offered. She gave him a look. “Ya know…hunting. Camping. Working around the house. I’m adding an extension next spring.” That changed her tune.

“That’s wonderful. What do you plan to add to the cabin?”

“A back deck. A big one. And a Jacuzzi. Already got the building permit ta add on ta my property, even though my neighbors aren’t close.”

“How often do you even stay out here?”

“Every chance I get. Haven’t decided whether or not to sell the house.” It had been weeks since he exited AlphLight, and he was still waiting for Mac and Clem to come through for him. A couple of offers landed on his plate, but nothing offered the same package he’d grown accustomed to, but his livelihood depended on whatever he chose, more then actual survival.

His worries became a dim echo when he was in the woods. Carol never enjoyed the simple lifestyle as much as he had…in hindsight, that should have been a red flag.

“How about you, darlin’?”

“What about me?” she chuckled, nudging him again. He nudged back.

“Ya seem like a city slicker.”

“Am not! I live on the beach, so I’m not that sheltered!”

“Ain’t the same.”

“It is for me. But I like this. Once in a while, it’s just…nice. I have to get away from it all. Hear nothing but my own thoughts. Helps me write. Helps me think.”

“Ya holdin’ up okay?” She sighed heavily and her lips tightened, cutting off a puff of frosty breath. He felt her tense.

“I don’t know. No. I’m not, and I’m trying…someone’s keeping tabs on me. Someone wants to hurt me.” She stared out across the pristine gray surface of the water, watching the mist gather over it from the fog that began rolling in out of nowhere. Had to love New England weather that changed every five minutes…

His thick, gloved fingers wrapped around hers, lending her comfort. He squeezed them and lent her his strength. His voice was insistent with its typical, growly burr. “Yer safe here. I promise ya that yer safe any time yer with me, ‘Ro. Every moment of every minute.” His eyes were thoughtful and vehement with this statement, and he watched her shiver.

“I don’t know why it’s so easy for me to be with you, and to believe you when you say that. What is it about you, Logan?” She studied him, letting her eyes rove slowly over the planes of his face. “There’s something about you that’s just…strong. Steady. I hardly know you.”

“Does that scare ya, darlin’?”

“It should.” Then she scoffed, “Don’t get me wrong. I don’t call up just anyone and invite them out for ice cream and into my house to play with my cat.” His lips twisted, and this time she was on the receiving end of a rough nudge. She huddled against him for warmth, mentally kicking herself for not listening to him before. She shrugged more deeply into her coat and adjusted her scarf.

“The most I can do ta fix it, darlin’, is ta let ya know me. Whatever ya wanna know about me.” He delved into his coat pocket and handed her his wallet.

“Silly! What’s this?”

“Go ‘head. Look at it.” She laughed as she opened up the worn leather billfold.

“Oh,” she crowed triumphantly, “look at you! Look at this ID photo! Sooooo sexy!”

“It ain’t that bad,” he harrumphed.

“No. Mine’s much, much worse.” She fingered the plastic sheath, tracing his features. “I didn’t know you were that old…”

“Hey!”

“Silly. You look great.”

“Fer a fossil?”

“Stop that,” she scolded, pouting. “You’re a Taurus?”

“Guilty.” He didn’t know what bearing that had on anything.

“Then you’re protective,” she asserted.

“Eh.” He couldn’t argue that.

“Stubborn. Generous. Hot-tempered. Possessive. Open. Loyal,” she continued as she folded his wallet shut. “Virile,” she whispered. “Strong.” When she tucked it back into his hand, she covered it with hers and leaned into him again, closing the chilly gap between them. “Sensual,” she murmured, nuzzling the tip of his nose and allowing her lips to graze the corner of his mouth. He cleared his throat and drank in her scent, her voice.

Her heart was pounding. For him. He felt the throb of her pulse even through his gloves; her eyes were still pure blue despite the gray sky, but they were a darker cobalt to reflect her mood.

“Got all that from my ID?”

“That’s not all I was hoping to get,” she admitted, brushing his lips teasingly. She released his hand and instead stroked his firm cheekbone with her trembling thumb. He could feel the effect he had on her in his gut, to say nothing of his loins. Traitorously his privates drew themselves up into a tight, stiff lump.

“Ororo,” he whispered,” please…” She ducked her face for a moment, staring into his eyes. Provoking the beast. His exhalation was sharp and ragged as he, too, broke their gaze, only to look back again. His nostrils flared. Her eyes dilated. All he heard was the wind stirring the bare, black branches overhead and the pounding of his own heart.

And then, the moan of surrender she made when he clamped his arms around her waist and kissed her, hot and hard. Her breath shuddered out to mingle with his, feeding him. Her tongue teased the entrance of his mouth when he slanted his, demanding her attention, and the kiss grew liquid and dizzying as he wrapped his own around it. She tasted slick and sweet; he made himself at home in the velvety confines of her mouth, probing it and proclaiming himself master.

She embraced his wildness and gave her own, long hidden, full rein. He enveloped her, making ragged sounds of need as their bodies pressed closer, until they no longer felt like separate people. Ororo was Logan, and Logan was Ororo. In the flesh. In the spirit.

His fingers clenched at her back. Hers fisted in his hair and his collar.

She whimpered suddenly when he bit her lip. He was panting and practically quivering when he drew back.

“Shit!” he hissed, watching her probe the puffy, rosy flesh. “M’so sorry, ‘Ro. Did I hurt ya?”

“You just surprised me…ouch,” she complained through her laughter. Then she saw how pale his face was, and her brow wrinkled. “I’m okay, sweetie, see?” She leaned over and kissed him. “Good as new!” He exhaled, and she felt the tension leave him, but he still looked remorseful.

“I never…I didn’t mean it, darlin’,” he grumbled, once again releasing her. “Don’t know what came over me for a second.”

“Same thing that came over me,” Ororo reasoned, pleading with him. “I wanted to kiss you, Logan. If you think I was getting carried away, then I’m sorry. Here we are, you invited me out here! I don’t want to make you feel like this was all I expected…”

“That’s just it. That’s how I feel, ‘Ro. Yer my guest. Ya don’t…after what happened that night, at the bank, ya don’t owe me anything.” His hand shook as he adjusted her scarf, gently tugging it open and draping it over her head instead, covering her chilly ears. “I ain’t gonna take advantage of ya if ya feel like yer obligated ta me.” The words were profane but tore out from his lips.

“That’s not it,” she argued, frustrated and searching for reasons why he was wrong, but it was harder than she wanted to admit to refute his logic. He busied himself with her muffler, crossing the long sash beneath her chin, wrapping it back around her neck, then back around to the front. He tucked the ends into her collar and palmed her smooth cheek. She turned her lips into his touch; even through his gloves, the contact scorched him. “That’s not my reason for coming out here, and you know that. And maybe this doesn’t need a reason.” She was stirred from her reverie of staring into his dark eyes by the light snowfall that drifted on the breeze. Sparse flakes landed in his hair and grizzled brows. She smiled as she kissed him and flicked the moisture away with her thumb.

They hiked back down the trail before the snow could fill their tracks. Logan shooed her inside as he rounded the back of the cabin to select several logs from the cord of firewood. He stamped his boots on the braided rug inside. Ororo was already in her stocking feet and fluffing her hair, combing her fingers through the tangles. She hugged herself.

“Brrrr.”

“City slicker,” he accused.

“I’ll live. Now build up that fire, buddy, get crackin’! I’m freezing my tookus.” He leered at her. She stuck out her tongue.

The next two hours found her at her laptop (after much sniping and nagging) while Logan worked on a tiny model ship. The silence between them was companionable; neither of them craved the mindlessness of television or Logan’s staticky radio. The most they heard through the interference was that a storm front was rolling in, promising to drop six inches.

Mick wasn’t fond of chocolate, but he watched hungrily as she bit into the wafer; her eyes closed in ecstasy.

“Mmmm. I needed that,” she sighed. “Don’t you ever just need something sweet?” She didn’t even notice that he’d stood until he was hovering above her. His broad body was outlined by the kitchette’s overhead light.

“Yes. I do,” he husked, plucking the glass of milk from her hand and thunking it onto the table.

“Mick!”

He swallowed her gasp as he bent down and kissed her. She moaned beneath the rough caress of his lips, then felt thrown off-balance as he released her.

“Mick!” she repeated, touching her lips gingerly.

“You had something. Right there. It’s gone now.”

“Yer smilin’.”

“Mm-hmmm.”

“Ya writin’ somethin’ naughty?”

“Pfft…no!” she lied.


“Aw, c’mon, kiddo, lemme see!”

“No!” she yelped. “I can’t work with people looking over my shoulder.

“Yer not workin’ now,” he pointed out, looming over her. She felt his solid heat at her back.

“Am too!”

“Uh-uh.” He leaned in for a glimpse at the tiny screen, and to her horror, she saw him mouthing the words.

“DON’T! GAH! STOP!” She reached up to cover his eyes. “Quit it, Logan!”

“It’s gonna be a long night, darlin’, I need somethin’ ta read!”

“Tough!”

“Zoe likes chocolate? Where else does she like it?” he asked innocently.

“LOGAN!” She hunched over her laptop and hurriedly hit save before clapping it shut. They scuffled; it wasn’t pretty. Many tickles, half-hearted swats, biffs, lunges and “oof!’s” later, Ororo was lying across the couch, facedown with her body curled around the laptop. The two of them were panting and stifling guffaws. Logan zapped her in the side with his fingertip. She yelped in protest but tightened her grip around the laptop.

“Man, yer obsessed,” he huffed, marveling at her insistence.

“Look who’s talking,” she accused.

“I’m gonna see the book when it comes out.”

“The edited, pretty version after Ali’s proofreaders hack it to pieces,” she corrected him. He sighed and then stroked the long line of her back. Her body relaxed. “Truce?”

“I still don’t get to see it?” His voice promised retribution.

“Not now,” she allowed. His caress became long and slow; she nearly purred. Logan had a fleeting impression that Giblet was Ororo’s familiar as she set down the PC and stretched out onto the sofa cushions, arching her back. She sat up and made room for him; he sat and tucked one leg behind her, encouraging her to sprawl back against him and use him as a recliner. He tugged the fleece throw blanket from the back of the couch and covered them with it. They watched the fire crackle in the grate, and they basked in the sound of each other’s breathing.


~0~

“Don’tcha at least feel a lil’ better now, petit?” Remy took the casserole dish Ali finished rinsing and stacked it in the dishwasher. “She left ya de number at de cabin. Even de address, an’ she called when dey got dere t’let y’know she wuz all in one piece.”

“You know I hate it when you say it like that, Rem,” she shuddered. “I can’t think of her ‘all in one piece’ when the alternative keeps me up at night.” He set down the dish rag and hugged her, kissing her cheek. She sighed and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Don’t try to distract me,” she complained.

“How ‘bout Remy takes his baby doll back t’bed an’ really distracts ya? Remy’ll get y’mind offa any an’ evry’tin’, chere.” His voice was low and thick with promise. A warm shiver traveled up Ali’s back as she imagined him looming over her in the dark, making love to her until she couldn’t think straight.

“Mmmmm…” Their kiss was interrupted by the trill of her phone. “H’lo?” She looked surprised. “Hi, Pietro! What’s new?” Her expression settled into one of caution. “Have I heard from Ororo? Sure, she just came over for dinner! Last night.”

“Tell ‘im y’busy,” Remy whispered urgently into her free ear as he snuggled against her back.

“She said she’ll be back in a few days. Uh-huh. Yup. A vacation…oh. Where?” Her voice was filled with confusion. “She left the Vineyard, and she’s staying with a friend at a cabin near this big, fresh water pond, she said it’s beautiful…” Remy prodded her. “Oh, ‘Tro, I’d better get going! It was good to head from you. ‘Bye!” Remy plucked the phone from her grasp and hung it up.

“Nuff already, petit, de dishes’re done!”

“Sheesh,” she complained, wrapping his arms around herself more tightly and giving him better access to nuzzle her neck.


~0~

With a friend. Pietro chucked the handset onto the couch and refilled his glass with red wine. Frustration choked him as he brooded in the dark.

~0~

“Venison,” she replied warily, eyeing the nondescript stew set before her.

“Yeah.” Logan set a plate of garlic bread on the table and turned off the stove. He’d stored the leftover stew in his deep freezer after his last expedition, knowing he’d crave it when the weather was cold enough.

“But…it’s deer.”

“Most venison is,” he replied, nonplussed.

“But…that’s like…eating Bambi!”

“Gads…it’s meat, kiddo! Ain’t any different from a drumstick or a pork chop.”

“Chickens scratch the ground. Pigs are big and sloppy. They aren’t cute. So you can eat them. Bambi’s cute, and he can talk, so he’s off limits.”

“Wasn’t below the legal limit when I bagged him,” Logan mused. She looked horrified. “What?” he pleaded innocently.

“I can’t eat this.”

“Ya gotta be starving, baby. G’wan, take a bite.” He broke off the crust of his hunk of bread and plowed it through the thick broth.

She sighed. The stew was hearty looking and full of what looked like potatoes and onions, and perhaps a stray lump of carrot…she gingerly spooned up some broth.

“It ain’t that bad.” He was inhaling his, savoring the gamy flavor of the rich meat.

“Can I just have the bread?”

“Can’t appreciate good food,” he grumbled, but she looked grateful when he rounded the table and spooned the chunks of meat from her portion onto his own plate. He loaded her plate with another thick hunk of bread. “There ya go!” he declared.

“Thank the good Lord,” she breathed. “Poor little Bambi…”

“Be glad Thumper and Flower ain’t swimmin’ in the sauce with him.”

“Ugh! Nasty!” She flung a crust of bread at him. He bit heartily into his stew meat and rolled his eyes at how good it was.

“Got elk stew, too, from a buck me an’ Mac bagged this summer.” She turned green.

“He saves my life; now he’s trying to kill me.” She sipped her mug of instant cider, and they made short work of the food.

Before Logan could ask Ororo where she planned to sleep, she nodded off beside him on the couch halfway through Law & Order.

That made his decision slightly easier. He carried her back to the guest room, turned down the coverlet, and tucked her in. His body protested the presence of her warm, sweet-smelling skin and hair once he let her go.

Logan bundled himself back into his coat and headed out back for a smoke. All was quiet.

The beast inside him was at rest, content in the belief that nothing threatened its den, or its mate. The moon up above waxed toward its peak, nearly newborn. The night sky was littered with the shiny, inky clouds as the snow once again began to fall.





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