Page 14 of SEAL by Fate

Reaching up to touch the cut, she could feel the beginning of a scab. “How can I ever say thank you for taking care of me? You could have easily left me out there in the cold.”

He blinked and took a step back, then strolled to the dresser to lean against the edge. “I think a simple ‘thank you’ will suffice, and then you should tell me what’s going on.”

“I was stranded in the snow.”

“Look, I think it’s obvious you ran out of your own wedding, and to be perfectly frank, I really don’t care why. What I do care about is whether I need to be on the lookout for a pissed off groom looking for his missing bride. I don’t need, or want, trouble.”

Something told her he wasn’t too worried. “Didn’t you already ask me this?”

“Yeah, when you were still woozy and half asleep. I thought I better ask when you’re wide awake and coherent.”

How could she answer without divulging too much, too soon? “Even if he wanted to come looking for me, I don’t think he could get up the mountain.”

“So that means he will be looking for you?”

She nodded. “Probably.” She met Gray’s gaze head on and moistened her lips. “You’re right, I ran from the church. I also wanted to get away so fast that I didn’t plan for bad roads. The snow—I’ve never seen it fall so fast. I guess I screwed up and should have stayed in town. I don’t want to see my fiancé…I mean, ex-fiancé.”

“The ring might bely that statement a bit.”

She looked down at the diamond and sighed. He was right. “It’s safe to say when I left him at the altar, we split up.”

There was a long hesitation, then he dropped his gaze to her wrists and back to her face. “Are you afraid of him?”

“No,” the word shot out of her mouth. “He wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Yeah? Well, those bruises on your wrist aren’t from the accident.”

She didn’t like the way this man’s gaze seemed to penetrate every layer of her defenses. Stormy would need to be careful because he was a human lie detector. She didn’t want to lie to him but telling him everything would make her vulnerable. Climbing from the bed, she tightened the blanket around her shoulders and tilted her chin stubbornly. “I have soup on the stove, enough for both of us. I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry and I think eating will help me feel better.”

“You’re hungry. That’s a good sign.” He pushed away from the dresser and she watched him stroll out of the room—all six foot something of manliness. She followed him while keeping her attention on how nicely his jeans cupped his bottom, how broad his back was, and the large eagle tattoo with a wing span that spread from shoulder to shoulder. The word SEAL was written underneath in bold faced text.

“So, you’re a SEAL?” That explained a lot for her.

“Was. Still am. Always will be.” He stopped in the kitchen, grabbed two bowls from the cabinet and poured steaming soup into each. “Have a seat. You need your rest.”

He brought her a bowl and she accepted it, but didn’t dig in. “Are you hurt from the accident?” she asked. Trying her hardest to keep from admiring his shirtless torso. “You’re limping.”

He gave a small shrug. “An old injury that didn’t enjoy being smacked up against the dashboard. I’ll survive though. Just wish we had pain killers, or whiskey. Either one would work.”

She took a sip of her soup which didn’t settle well on her stomach. “You walked almost a mile carrying me on a bum knee? That’s, well…something.”

“I didn’t say anything about a bum knee.” He smiled. “An old injury.” He didn’t bother with a spoon but brought the bowl to his lips and slurped. Some would call that bad manners, and then there were others who would call him sexy even when he ate. She belonged in the later category, although she needed to keep things into perspective. She’d just left a man at the altar. Her mind wasn’t prepared to want or desire another man so soon. It was only her raw emotions talking and not logic. She was flattered that he had saved her by carrying her to the cabin. What woman wouldn’t be?

Sure. She’d keep telling herself that her attraction was simple flattery.

Yet, her body was blocking the message, because even now, as she watched his muscles tighten and bulge she wanted to touch him. Explore him. Get to know him better. Ask where each scar came from.

“So, since you know why I was on this mountain in the middle of the night during a snowstorm, then why were you?” She swirled her spoon through the soup and played with the noodles like a child would.

He swiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “Acting impulsively.”

“Do you always do that?”

“Act impulsively? Yes.”

“No, I meant answering questions mysteriously?”

“I’ve been accused of doing so a time or two.”

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