I don't own Goren, he belongs to DW.
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He entered the bathroom for a towel to dry his hair. He noticed she had stuffed a towel in the broken pane of glass to keep the cold out. "She's resourceful," he thought as he imagined her crawling through the small window. He wondered just how resourceful she was. Instinct told him she was most likely waiting for friends and that she took a wrong turn and ended up at the wrong cabin. He needed to be sure. He needed to see more than just a shadowy figure. He needed to see her, engage her.
"I know Max keeps lanterns around. You didn't find any when you looked for that candle?" he asked.
"Uh, I didn't think to look for lanterns."
He shone his flashlight around the interior. "Here…this closet. Max keeps equipment in here," he said producing two battery operated lanterns.
"I hope they're charged," she said.
"Me too," he thought.
The lanterns lit the interior of the cabin revealing knotty pine walls and knotty pine floors, no curtains at the windows. Two club chairs flanked the wood stove. A sofa and table sat opposite the stove. A well stocked bookcase sat along one wall. No television, but a radio sat atop the bookcase. A table and four chairs, refrigerator, stove and sink defined the kitchen area. There were two doors to the right. One led to the bathroom the other opened to a small room with bunk beds and a dresser, to the left, the closet and a room with a double bed and two night stands.
"Rustic, at least it's clean," she said.
"Max is a no frills kind of guy," he replied.
"I take it there's no Mrs. Max?"
"Not anymore, widowed."
"Oh, I'm sorry."
He put another log in the fire and sat in one of the chairs. "You know, it's warmer over here by the stove."
She was still standing in what passed for a kitchen. He was right, it would be warmer over there, but she was still wary of him. Her feet were cold. She was wishing she hadn't removed her boots. If she had to run out into the night, stocking feet would do her no good. "Good Lord, what am I thinking? I couldn't outrun him even if it were summer."
She walked over and sat on the sofa. In the light, she caught a better look at him. He was intimidating but with an air of gentleness. She noticed his hands, smooth with long fingers. She concentrated on his face, captivated by his pouty lower lip. Then it was his eyes. There was something behind those dark pools of chocolate. What was it fear, intelligence, sadness? She felt a chill.
"I'll get us some more wood," he said.
"It's that voice, so smooth and reassuring. No it's not just the voice. It's everything about him! Damn it, focus. Focus and don't let your guard down. He's a detective. He's trained to work people," she thought.
"I think this is enough to get us through the night," he said after the second armload of wood. His hair was wet with snow.
"Damn, those curls," she cursed silently.
After toweling off his hair, he asked, "Are you hungry?"
Full Version: The Cabin
Oh, I'm looking forward to how this unfolds! Don't keep us in suspense, too long, Peyton. 
very good, I need to take time and work on mine, but with all my deliveries this week no time.
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