She didn’t want to believe him. It was crazy, the stuff of movies and overactive imaginations. At best, it was society’s creation to explain the unknown.
Like waking up in Montana in the middle of winter.
Like having socks that shouldn’t be dry.
Like twelve years of identical gifts, even when circumstances such as awful storms conspired against their arrival.
Lydia glanced down where he still touched her.
Like a man’s hand, strong and powerful and hot, encompassing hers.
She was either insane or this was all true. It was far more pleasant to believe the latter.
Her silence stretched, eliciting a soft sigh from Del. “We need to get you back to the fire,” he said, his voice gentle. He gestured toward her legs. “May I?”
Absently, Lydia nodded. Being lifted into his arms this time was
