Lost and Found Pieces 2

her shocked face, she realized he had a beautiful smile, as well.
“You have teeth!” she’d exclaimed without thinking.
Mac had rocked his head back and belly laughed like she’d never heard anyone else do, and it had brought her out of her funk enough to make her smile as well. Then something had happened. Some awareness had sparked as they looked into each other’s eyes, lost in laughter, and she’d gotten scared.
“The beard cut looks good,” she admitted, before turning away.
That had been a few weeks ago. Since then she’d begun to be aware of other things— the sprinkling of hair on his strong arms when he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, the way the sun glinted off his bright blue eyes as he carried groceries up onto her porch. Then, the other day when it was especially warm, he’d taken his shirt off while he chopped wood. Roz had gone to the kitchen to make a cup of tea and she’d glanced out of the kitchen window, then been caught by the sweat glistening on his straining muscles as he slammed the axe down into the wood, over and over again. Though they’d been living together for weeks now, it was the most undressed she’d ever seen him. He’d never articulated it outright, but she’d been aware of his care around her. He never appeared undressed in any way, and he was very cautious not to move abruptly. Though his voice could boom, he spoke to her softly. Roz knew that he was walking on eggshells around her because of her past experience with men, and in a way, she appreciated it. But, in a contrary way she hated that she had to be coddled like that.
Looking out over the yard, she realized she literally couldn’t drag her gaze away from his form. The baggy clothing that he wore and the vest with all its pockets camouflaged the man beneath, and again she had a shock. Mac was built like a brick shithouse. Muscles strained across his auburn-furred chest, and his stomach, surprisingly trim, shifted and twisted with the arc of the axe. His broad hands were wrapped around the haft of the axe. That particular tool was a lot for her to handle, but it looked small to him.
Her gaze followed his movements for several minutes, just watching and appreciating.
What the hell was she doing, looking at him like this? Noticing how the hair of his chest trailed down his stomach and beneath the waistband of his jeans. She had no business looking at him like he was a stripper to be ogled. He was a friend, and a protector.
The guilt swept in then, just like it always did. She was very good at creating situations where the guilt and recriminations rolled in her direction, and she wasn’t sure how to get out of the loop. She felt guilty that she was up here on the mountain while her son was in Atlanta. Yes, he was going to college and wanted to be left alone, but that didn’t change the emotion. She felt guilty that she had a vast knowledge of emergency medicine that she wasn’t using. The local hospital had begged for her to apply when they’d learned of her presence, but the thought of going back into a hospital like that sent cold terror through her, along with the guilt for feeling that terror.
It was ridiculous the loop of emotions that she went through on a daily basis.
Guilt that she was drawn to Mac would now have to be added to her mental list.

Chapter Two
Something had happened recently, and he wasn’t sure exactly what. Roz was looking at him strangely. Had he said or done something that put her on edge? He wracked his brain trying to remember but nothing came to mind.
There was a contemplative light in her eyes, though, that made his body respond, which he knew had to be a misread on his part. Roz had no interest in him as a man, she’d made that very clear. She viewed him as a generic, protective roommate, good for groceries and chopping wood and taking out the occasional terrorist. Mac couldn’t even be offended because he’d been aware of his situation when he’d left Columbus with her.
When he’d shaved his beard down, she had finally looked at him as more than the nutty professor people thought him to be. Even Andromeda called him the nutty professor, which was fine. He had nothing to prove. It would be nice if Roz could look beyond that generalization, though.
That day he thought she had. There had been something in her beautiful eyes, some spark of… appreciation? Maybe? He didn’t know. Rosalind was a difficult woman to read. But Mac was willing to wait for her to see what was in front of her.
He never thought he’d be the type to moon over a woman, but he didn’t know any other way to describe what he felt for Roz. The woman was beautiful, her dark hair curling to her shoulders. There were a few silver threads running through it, but they gave her character. As did the faint lines around her bright blue eyes. Roz had experienced the good and bad of life, and it had left its mark on her, but she was still fighting. He knew she was dealing with a lot of emotional, heavy stuff right now, but he could only admire the strength at her core. She had to have warrior blood in her.
Cracking the book open on his lap, he leaned back the chair, waiting to see if she would talk. On nights like these, though she was upset, he loved the closeness of having someone to talk to in the depths of the night.
“Your cat has no manners,” she said finally.
Mac looked at Oliver. He wasn't a bad cat, just a starving stray that he’d found in the back alley behind his Columbus townhouse. But he’d been a solid companion