Page 61 of Snowed In

How long have I been unconscious? The room around me is dim. The only light in the room comes from a soft lamp on the other side of the bed and the flickering of a fire somewhere in the room.

I flex my limbs, and everything seems to be in working order, just sore muscles like everything had tensed up when I crashed, maybe. I turn my head and come nose-to-nose with a large orange cat. They’re staring at me with one eye, the other obviously missing behind the sealed lids. The cat doesn’t move or make a sound, just studies me in a way that makes me wonder how long they would’ve waited before trying to eat me while I was unconscious.

The smokiness of the fire is mingling pleasantly with the pine and fresh air scent of the bedding I’m lying on, the pillow emitting a gust of the scent when I move my head. It relaxes me—even with the possible man-eating cat staring—and wakes me up more at the same time.

“Carla, leave him be,” a deep voice says, startling me.

I push myself upright quickly. My head swims for a moment before I lock eyes on an enormous white man. Even crouched like he is in front of the fireplace, I can tell he has to have a foot on me. I inherited my Korean mom’s small stature, barely topping out at five foot five.

The stranger has a body that’s thick with muscles, shoulders wide like a linebacker, and his handsome face is covered in a thick beard. He’s the epitome of a mountain man.

Good lord above. Have I woken up in a romance novel?

We stare at each other for a long, tense moment, a furrow between his brows, and then he glances at the cat next to me. “Hope she didn’t wake you.”

I shake my head slowly, feeling a bit unmoored.

No longer trapped in his gaze, I glance around. I’m in a small, cozy cabin that’s probably the same size as my apartment at home. It’s pretty much just one large room. The bed I’m on is massive—it wouldhave to be to fit a man as big as him—and it’s in the back corner of the cabin with a small kitchenette and sitting area toward the front.

“Is this…” I start to ask, rubbing at my eyes. “What happened?”

He tosses another log onto the fire, embers spraying upward as the flames greedily begin to eat the fuel, and then he pushes to his full height, moving in a way that seems a bit odd.

I swallow, my heartbeat picking up pace. I was right. This man is as big as the mountain I’m stranded on. I should probably be afraid. I don’t know where I am, how I got here, what condition my car is in, or even this stranger’s name, but…

I woke up in what’s obviouslyhisbed, I can see my suitcase nearby, and he has a one-eyed cat.

Doesn’t exactly scream ax murderer.

Part of my brain is screaming at me that that’s just my libido talking. That this man is so painfully attractive, I would willingly let myself get murdered if it meant getting dicked down first.

I ignore that voice.

“What do you remember?” he asks, dusting his hands off and moving toward the kitchen.

“It’s still a little blurry, but… I remember the accident. Something…” I shake my head, squinting at the beautiful, handmade quilt covering me. It’s made up of orange, red, and yellow squares, like a collage of fall vibes. “Something big ran in front of my car.”

The man grunts. “Probably a bear.”

“You think?” My gaze shoots up to him.

He shrugs as he opens the refrigerator. “Maybe. Could have been an elk.”

I’ve lived near the mountains, down in Stonewood Ridge, my whole life, and yet the idea of being forced off the road by a bear is almost more than I can handle.

“How did I get here?” I ask tentatively, pushing myself fully upright and then leaning back against the headboard. The headache I woke up with pings stronger at the movement, and I wince, rubbing at my temples.

“I couldn’t very well leave you,” he mutters, not even bothering to look at me. He doesn’t fill in any more of the blanks, but he must have rescued me from my car and then brought me here to his cabin.

“Thank you,” I say, forcing the words out as loudly as I can, grimacing at the pain it causes. “How long have I been asleep?”

“A little over an hour.”

I sigh. I was supposed to meet the client’s assistant as soon as I got to the resort. I can imagine my phone must be blowing up. Then I remember how it had died right before the crash. I glance around, spotting it on a table next to the huge recliner in the sitting area, plugged in.

“Do you have a number for a tow service around here?” I ask, psyching myself up to get out of this comfortable bed and go back out into the snowstorm.

He glances at me, a frown etched into his face. “Doesn’t matter,” he says gruffly, turning back to where he’s putting together a couple of sandwiches. My hollow stomach hopes one is for me. At his size, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were both for him. “No one’s coming out in the storm.”

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