Page 2 of Saving Her Curves

Skye leaned as far forward as the seatbelt would allow, peering out the windshield through squinted eyes. As if that would help her see through the blinding snow. The mountain road that led to her new home was winding and still unfamiliar. She gripped the steering wheel tighter. Something didn’t seem right.

She’d passed the “Welcome to Middleton, Colorado” sign, driven for about two miles and then turned right at the green road sign that led to her cabin. Or she thought it was the right sign. It had been half-hidden by snow already and she hadn’t actually seen the nam. She just knew hers was the first turn-off. Unless, she’d missed one and then…well, then she was lost.

As of two months ago, she’d finally picked a spot to put down roots at last. She was tired of traveling around the country, selling her jewelry at fairs and festivals.

After her mom’s death when Skye was only fourteen, she’d been cycled through the foster care system until she’d been turned out at eighteen. Using the skills taught by her mother, she’d managed not only to survive, but to thrive. Her new brick and mortar store, Skye’s the Limit was now opened in Middleton and she’d been welcomed to the small community with open arms. Today, she’d traveled to Cheyenne, Wyoming, for the last festival event she’d scheduled for the year. She was putting all her eggs into one basket for the rest of the year, so to speak.

The day had been typically cold, yet nothing could have prepared her for the snowstorm that had hit so suddenly. She hadn’t thought much of the few flakes that began as the festival had ended and she’d packed up her car, but the total whiteout halfway home had set her teeth on edge. With a resigned sigh, she eased forward, crawling up a mountain road that seemed eerily unfamiliar. Again, she wondered if she’d missed the correct turn to her cabin.

Suddenly an animal shot from the woods into the road directly in front of her. Skye recognized three things at once with startling clarity. The animal was a beautiful, rarely seen white deer. Her tires had lost whatever precarious grip they’d had on the snow-covered road. And her car was headed straight for the side of the mountain.

The impact with the mountainside was swift. Thankfully, it was cushioned by a snow drift that had already formed. Her car jerked, then rocked back and forth several times before settling sideways, driver’s side up, in a deep ditch. Her body lurched with each violent movement and only the seatbelt kept her from going through the windshield. Her head smacked against the window with a hard bang. The car came to a rest with her upper body sprawled across the steering wheel. With a groan, she raised her head, wincing at the pain the movement caused. Her hand came up to touch her forehead, feeling something wet and warm. She blinked uncomprehendingly at the sight of her own blood covering her fingers. Within seconds, she felt the pain that had been masked by the sudden trauma.

She groaned at the throbbing pain in her head, the aching soreness in her chest and the general discomfort from just moving her body. Tentatively, she moved her legs and arms, wondering dimly why the airbag hadn’t deployed, but then thought maybe she would have been hurt worse if it had.

Thankfully nothing appeared to be broken, but she was going to have some major aches and pains for the next few days. She wiped at the blood slowly trickling from her forehead down her cheek. It wasn’t bad, the cut just below her hairline. She unhooked her seatbelt and reached over as far as she could to open the glovebox. If she could just grab a napkin…

She screamed in fright when the driver’s door jerked open. Forgetting her injuries, she moved so suddenly that the scream turned into one of pain. All she saw before darkness overtook her was a massive giant of a man, his incredible bulk made even bigger by the down parka he wore. A knitted cap slash mask hid most of his face, but his startling brown eyes were filled with concern, which lessened her fear somewhat as she drifted into blackness.

“Well, damn it to hell and back,” Hank muttered as he looked inside the overturned car. Not exactly overturned. It was sideways in a ditch, luckily having landed with the driver’s side up. As far as he could tell, there was only one passenger inside. A woman. A passed-out woman. Knowing there was no way anyone could get to him in this weather—even if anyone else was available—it was completely up to him to save her.

Save her. That was his job. It wasn’t the first time he’d had to go it alone on a rescue, but something felt different this time. It seemed…personal. He’d done it hundreds of times in his lifetime, but somehow, this rescue seemed far more important. This woman, possibly more injured than he could see, shifted something inside of him.

Which was crazy. He didn’t know this woman from Adam. Or Eve.

But he wanted to.

And that scared the hell out of him.

All of his life, Hank had deliberately kept people at arm’s length, so why did he suddenly feel the need to keep this woman as close as possible?

And when he saved her from this precarious situation, who, pray tell, was going to save him?

Knowing time was of the essence, he shook away the confusing questions. Taking off his mask and gloves, he reached inside, cupping her jaw. “Hey, beautiful. Can you hear me?”

The world around them was silent. There was no longer a violent snowstorm with high winds and blowing snow. There was only the splendor of the falling snow, the incredible silence all around them, as if the world had stopped to admire the beauty with stilled breath. And there was a beautiful, unconscious woman who suddenly had him feeling things he’d thought he could never feel.

Grateful for his height and the long reach of his arms, he leaned into the car, trying as swiftly as he could to assess her injuries and getting some response. There was a trickle of blood from a cut near her hairline. He pushed back the mane of thick, brown hair. A vivid image of that long, lush hair trailing over his body played through his mind, hotter than a teenage wet dream. His fingers burned with the yearning to thread themselves in the silken waves.

“Focus,” he muttered to himself.

The cut wasn’t that deep. Head injuries tended to bleed a lot and he hoped that was all there was to it. Her lack of consciousness made him worry she may have a concussion. Of course, it could just be shock. And the cold.

The thought jogged him from his fog. It was getting colder by the minute. He had on his winter gear, but she was only wearing a light sweater and jeans. He shook her gently. “Alright, I need you to wake up now, sleeping beauty.”

That seemed to rouse her a little as a low moan slipped through her closed lips. “That’s it, baby, open those beautiful eyes for me.”

As if his words were a command she couldn’t resist, her eyes fluttered open. They were clear and focused. A very good sign. As was the question she asked, “Who…who are you?”

Dangerous. The word came to Skye Whitefeather’s mind the instant she focused on the face that was so close to hers. Despite the incredible cold, he’d removed his head covering. His hair was dark, she thought it was black, but that could be from the wetness it had soaked up from the snow.

Her brow crinkled and she winced at the pain.

“My name’s Hank Thomas.” His voice was as dark as a moonless night.

“I know you, don’t I?”

And she did, kind of. The women who came into her shop called all members of the search and rescue team ‘eye candy’ of the most delicious kind. Hank was at the top of the list they most wanted to lick. Skye couldn’t deny he fit the bill. He also lived up to his nickname, ‘Hank the Tank,’ with his broad shoulders and thick thighs. His looks were a little more rugged than handsome but could make a woman’s heart pick up its beat. His thick, dark hair was cut short, military style, even though the man had retired from his previous job. He was ex-military if the rumor mill was correct.

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