Page 8 of Cabin Fever

"I won't let you kill me!" I tried to scream but was too out of breath.

It had been two years since I did parkour. I forgot how much strength it required.

"Kill you? Why would I kill you?" He didn't wait for me to answer. "Do you believe this, Kitty? I help the woman, make sure her cut didn't get infected, let her sleep in my room overnight—even after she broke into my home and stole my food. And now she thinks I'm going to murder her."

I slid down the wall, letting go of the window and rubbed my fingers.

"When you put it like that, it does sound a little ridiculous."

We stood in silence. I stared at the floor, nibbling on my lip while he folded his beefy arms. My misadventures through the woods seemed to have muddled my brain. I'd been rude since the moment I stepped foot into this wood lover's paradise.

"Let's start over." I hoped he'd take my peace offering, which was only my extended hand, but it was all I had to give.

I could almost feel the burn in my palm as his green eyes glared at my hand.

"I promise, I won't bite." My laughter faded quickly from my silly joke as the man remained unmoved.

He was tall and must have a trainer because his arms were cut. The scowl on the man's face seemed to add to his appeal. The combination of the dark look he was giving me, his dazzling green eyes, thick beard, and that flannel shirt molding to his rippling chest made him the perfect mountain man fantasy.

It's like he was made for a laundry soap commercial.

I gave up on the handshake and lowered my arm. "Look, I'm sorry. I was cold and lost last night. When I saw your cabin and heard those wild animals, I had to protect myself. So, I ran in here."

"What wild animals? I didn't hear anything last night." His eyes widened and he raced away. I couldn't help but notice the perfect shape of his ass in his fitted jeans as he left the room.

"Hey, wait . . . where are you going?" I heard the back door open and wondered if he was abandoning me. Scurrying after him, I yelled, "At least give me a little bacon before you leave me here to die."

He stood outside the back door, pushing his feet into a pair of thick boots. They were covered in mud and as I stepped closer, all I could smell was that I had been too quick to judge the brown mess on his boots. It wasn't mud, but feces.

I crooked my arm and covered my nose. What was out here?

Refusing to get any closer, I stopped by the door next to the dog.

"I don't even know your name."

I was going to do proper introductions back in the bedroom, but he raced off when I mentioned the wild animals. Who does that?

That's when I heard them. The crying beasts from last night, ready to rip apart any who got near. At least, I assumed that would happen based on their toe-curling screams.

I didn't know this man. Not even his name. Because he was kind enough to care for me, I couldn't stand by and watch him walk to his death. I reached out the door and my fingers curled into his flannel sleeve. "Don't go. They'll eat you alive."

A crease formed between his brow. "Who, the sheep? No, they eat grass and clovers. There isn't much snow on the ground, so I don't need to put out a bale for them. But if you say you heard wild animals last night that might mean a wolf was around."

I released my grip. Sheep . . . It was sheep I heard. My face warmed at how scared I was and thought death was near. My mother would always comment on how overly dramatic I could be. I liked to think I was preparing for the worst.

"It might not have been a wolf . . ."

He'd taken a few steps away, and I looked up to see a brown barn off in the distance. There weren't any trees back here, just the barn and a fenced off pasture. It was huge. The enclosure trailed for a while and curved down until I couldn't see it anymore.

The burly sheep farmer with the lumberjack arms and beard turned. "Then what did you hear? A bobcat? I should still check on them."

"Okay."

He continued on and I stood in the door, letting the cold air seep into my lungs. It burned, and despite the bright sun, I was chilled to the bone.

I deserved it. I had been nothing but a fool for the past twenty-four hours.

The dog stayed by my feet and I leaned down to pet its head. The fur was soft, and it kept licking my hand.

---