Page 6 of Sheltered By the Mountain Man

I glimpse dark hair, pale skin, and a streak of blood on his cheek right before the giant man collapses against me. We both go down in a tangle of limbs.

Oof.

He’s enormous. Broad and solid. Every inch of him feels carved from marble, and right now, he’s draped over me. He smells like pine, and something woodsy and masculine. And even though he’s pressing me into the ground, a swirl of heat curls in my belly.

Chapter Three

Mason

“Sir? Can you hearme?”

The voice is sweet and soft in my ear. I open my eyes, searching for the woman who spoke. I'm in the forest, flat on my back. Dark clouds boil overhead. Jesus, everything hurts.

I remember falling down the embankment, then forcing myself to my feet to get home, and... falling onto something soft.

I must have moaned, because she says, “Oh, thank goodness.”

Fingers gently stroke across my brow. I tilt my chin and realize that the woman is above me, and my head is in her lap.

She's pretty, with brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, though some has come loose, making her curls dance around her face in the breeze. Her eyes are hazel—more gold than green—with thick, dark lashes. Her cheeks are round with a cute little nose and pillowy lips that begged to be kissed.

Strike that. She's not just pretty, she's gorgeous.

And familiar, though I can’t place her.

“You were out for a few minutes. I was so worried you wouldn't wake up.” She traces my temple in a light touch. “You're leg is bleeding, and your ankle might be broken. It's swelling. I think you're hurt pretty bad.” When I don’t respond right away, she adds, “At least you’re alive. Now we have to figure out how to get you out of here before the storm hits.”

I blink at her. In my muddled state, I don’t understand why she’s out here helping me. She looks like the type of woman to curl up with a book and a cup of tea, not trip over wounded men in the woods.

Books… the library. It clicks. This is the woman I saw at the bank yesterday.

What the hell is she doing out here?

Her eyebrows scrunch together when all I do is stare at her. “Please don’t have a concussion,” she says under her breath, stroking my brow again. “Hey? Are you with me? Did you hit your head?”

Nitro whines and scoots forward on his belly to lay his head on my chest. With effort, I raise my hand to pet his head, letting him know I'll be fine. “Not bad. My ankle is sprained.” I struggle up to one elbow, plant a hand on the ground, and manage to sit up.

“Okay, that's good. Do you think you can stand? We can't stay here.”

Fuck. I remember now. The damn dog chased something into the woods. I couldn't leave him out during the storm, which is how I ended up in this mess. It's not his fault. Not really. I should have had him on the leash. The woman is right. We have to get inside. “I’ll try.”

She wraps an arm around my waist. One plump breast presses against me and the spicy-sweet scent of roses fills my senses. Iturn my head slightly, my mouth an inch from her temple, and breathe deeper. Who is this woman?

“Ready?” she asks, pressing closer, like she could actually help me stand.

“What's the plan here?”

“Step one, get you standing. Step two, avoid bears. Step three, don't die in the woods.”

I was being sarcastic because she's so tiny. That she has a plan, even though it isn't much of one, surprises me. I'm almost afraid to ask if she has a Plan B. We might be here awhile. I grunt with the effort to get my legs under me while not crushing her with my weight.

Nitro jumps to his feet, eyes locked on me.

Finally, I'm on my feet and wish to hell I wasn't. There's a gash on my leg that's soaking my pants with blood, my left ankle is swollen, and my head hurts like a motherfucker.

My rescuer slides her arm around my waist.

I try not to lean on her, but with pain screaming through my ankle and thigh, it's damn near impossible.

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