Chapter 17

He could cook some on the wood-burning stove. There was room for a frying pan or a pot, but he couldn’t see himself throwing together a Christmas meal.

If Aiden was staying…

Of course, Aiden wouldn’t be staying.

Back at the cabin, Tristan stomped his feet, to get rid of as much snow as possible, and went inside. “Hey, Aiden?”

He stopped short. Aiden was standing in the middle of the floor with his feet wide apart, legs straight, and his body bent forward at the hip with his hands on his feet. Tristan forgot all about what he’d intended to say as his eyes zeroed in on the arse in front of him. It was one fine arse. Tristan had noticed before. But presented like this…

“Seen enough?” Aiden’s voice was soft, free from the edgy tone Tristan had grown used to.

He shook himself. “What are you doing?”

“Yoga.” He raised his upper body at the same time as he breathed in deep. “I’m a bit stressed.”