Page 7 of Sheltered By the Mountain Man

“Oh God. You're huge,” she whispers, sounding half panicked, half in awe. Like she just found Bigfoot—and next to her, I am. Her head barely reaches my shoulder.

“Thanks,” I mutter dryly. “You're...”beautiful...“determined.”

“You're hurt. I'm not going to leave you.” She sounds affronted. Like I'm questioning her character. “Plus, you’re my only way off this mountain.”

“You could leave me. Youshould. I can make it home.”

“I can’t. I got separated from my hiking group and turned around. Everything looks the same out here.”

A muscle in my jaw twitches. She’s out here alone because she’s lost. What would have happened to her if she hadn’t found me? “I'll guide you back to the trailhead so you can get out of the weather.”

“You must have hit your head harder than you thought. I'm not leaving. Now, do you have any idea where we are? Is there a ranger station or something around? I have a map, but it won't help.”

“Why not?” I’ve come to know this area well enough over the last couple of months, so I don't need the map. Her certainty that it wouldn't help intrigues me.

She pulls one of the trail pamphlets out of her pocket, shakes it open with one hand, and holds it up to show the various trails marked in different colors. “It's not a map! It's colored spaghetti.No onecan read this.”

I bark a laugh, then hiss when my thigh protests. “Fair enough. My cabin is this way. I’ll get patched up, and take you back to your car.”

Her shoulders sag. “Sure. Lead the way.”

She sounds disappointed. Because we're going to my cabin or I'm taking her to her car? Her chin is tucked down, so I can't read her expression.

My rescuer is a mystery. She's wearing a thin jacket and hiking boots with hardly a scuff on them. A backpack hangs off one shoulder, so flat there can't be anything in it. She might be dressed like a hiker, but it's clear she isn't. Or at least not a seasoned one. Why is she out here?

I'm about to ask when several fat raindrops land on my neck and shoulders. Questions can wait. I take a step forward, testing my weight on my swollen ankle. Pain shoots up my leg to my injured thigh, and I grit my teeth, staggering a step. She clutches me with both hands to steady me. One palm slides under my shirt and across my skin.

We both freeze.

She licks her lips. “You're really warm.”

“You're not.” I place my palm over hers, warming her cold hands. She smells so good and feels perfect against my side.Why? What is it about this woman that makes me want to pull her closer? Tuck her against my chest, and hold her close? That's the last thing I want.

I told Derek this morning that a woman wasn't in the cards for me. Yet here's the lost little lamb that wasn't supposed to be wandering in my woods. It's unsettling.

Right then, the skies open up. Fat rain drops turn into a cold shower, beating down on us and soaking through our clothes. Bella presses closer to me, as if seeking my warmth. The jacket she's wearing looks too thin, and I doubt she's wearing enough layers. I need to get her out of this weather.

My next step is steadier, but each time I place weight on my foot, I have to lean on her like a human crutch. Every step is agony, and not just from the fire in my ankle or throb in my thigh. I've had far worse. It's the feel of her. So small, soft, and sweet, tucked against my side like she belongs there.

“You got a name?” I ask to distract myself.

“Bella. Bella Brown.” Her breath puffs white in the chilly air.

“Mason Walker.” I nod to the German Shepherd trotting along beside us. “That's Nitro.”

“He introduced himself when I was trying to wake you, after we uh... crashed.”

I have a vague memory of falling a second time right before I passed out and landing on something soft. Shit. “I didn't hurt you, did I?”

Bella shakes her head, rain dripping from her ponytail. “No. Though I thought you were a bear at first. I was going to chuck my peanut butter granola bar at you and make a run for it.” Her lips twist in a tiny smile.

Good thing I wasn't. She would have been bear chow. “If that granola is up for grabs, I'll take it.” I didn't have breakfast before chasing a dog through the woods.

Bella laughs, her body rubbing against mine. She digs the bar out of her pocket with her free hand, grinning up at me. “Here.”

I'm struck by the sparkle in her eyes. The way she looks at me as if I'm not broken. Just a man who needs her and her granola. I finish the bar off in two bites and stick the wrapper in my pocket.

We walk in silence for several more minutes. I want to ask her about herself, but all my energy is going into staying upright.

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