He dropped his hand to his side. “Do you trust me enough to give me back my weapon?”
Trust might not be the right word, she thought, but she was willing to take the risk. “Yes.”
He moved away from her to the rolltop desk and retrieved his pistol, reloading it with both speed and skill. “Any chance you have more 9 mm ammo around?”
“Of course.”
His gaze lifted to meet hers, a slow smile spreading over his face, carving dimples into his cheeks and taking a decade off his appearance. “Should’ve known.”
As she started toward the hall closet where she kept her extra weapons and ammunition, the lights went off, plunging the cabin into gloom relieved only by the dying fireplace embers.
“There goes the power,” she said with a sigh, detouring toward the hearth to coax the fire back to life.
“Wait,” he murmured as she reached for the poker. He was much closer than she’d expected; she hadn’t heard his approach.
“What?” she asked, her voice dropping to a near whisper.
“How sure are you that the snow caused the power to go out?”
“It’s not unusual during a snowstorm—”
He tugged her away from the window. “Or during a siege.”
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