Page 78 of 5 Golden Flings

For long moments,Brynn huddled in the corner of the couch staring at the large mound of clothing and ice that lay sprawled inside the door.

The pounding outside had frozen her in fear. Who was it? Whatwas it? She had no idea what could be outside and she was alone in the middle of nowhere. No way was she opening that door.

But whoever it was had a different idea of how this was gonna go. She had no choice but to get onboard.

As was her nature, she quickly sprang into action. Throwing back the blanket she’d curled up with on the couch, she dropped her sock-clad feet to the floor. The house wasn’t overtly warm, but she was grateful the old heating system wasn’t so taxed by this huge storm that it wasn’t putting out heat. She’d pulled wood onto the back porch, but had yet to bring any inside. It was too dangerous to fall asleep with a fire going.

Cautiously she approached the person on the floor. “Hey,” she said, then cleared her throat. “Hey!”

Nothing.Holy hell. She’d thought she’d have a quiet night before getting down to work tomorrow. Nowhere in the plan was there space for visitors. Now what?

Gingerly she crossed to the other side of the mound, squeezing between him and the wall. “Hey, get up!”

Was he dead? The wind rushing through the opening told her it was a possibility. She pushed the door closed, the wind creating a lot more resistance than she expected. A layer of ice and snow had blown inside along with her visitor.

Okay, turn him over maybe?

Crouching down beside him, she grabbed a shoulder and pulled. The ice on his clothing stung her palms. Inch by inch she was able to push his shoulder up, then over the tipping point so he rolled onto his back. She found herself looking down on the face of a man out cold. His gator had pulled half off his face, exposing a short beard and mustache now encrusted with melting snow.

He was definitely out, and frozen.

As she grasped his hands, his wet gloves stung her fingers. Pulling one off exposed wet skin and fingers starting to turn purple.That wasn’t good.

She got off both gloves, tossing them onto the nearby wooden pew, then moved to his feet. Picking up each leg in turn, she dropped them against the floor to get the coating of ice off his boots before struggling to untangle the laces. Luckily his actual feet were mostly dry from the ankle down. But water had definitely snuck onto the ankle, soaking his heavy-duty socks, so she peeled those off too.

Getting him warm was top priority, but she could hardly carry a man—much less one half a foot taller than her. And where would she take him? She had an electric blanket on the bed, but that was upstairs. She hadn’t started a fire, because she’d been afraid she would fall asleep with it still going.

The shower?

Hot water should help with his temperature and getting his blood flowing, but could she get him there?

Pulling back, she hit him in the upper arm with her fist. Physical force should be justified considering the circumstances. It was just a tap, and it made no impact whatsoever. She tried again, a little harder this time.

This wasn’t working.

Maybe she could find his name from an ID? Quickly she started searching through his pockets, mostly encountering clumps of icy melt. Finally his front jean pocket yielded a leather wallet. Guy was certainly practical. A twenty-dollar bill, credit card, and license—Colby Shephard.

Shephard? Hadn’t there been a Shephard family a couple of farms down?

Oh yeah. Colby Shephard. The boy who was a couple of years older than her and had stood up for her when the school bully had pushed her down after getting off the bus.

He’d walked her home every day for the rest of the school year—until the day she’d disappeared.

Had he wondered where they’d gone? Had Maria given an excuse for their absence.

She glanced down at the man, trying to see the strawberry-blond boy she remembered in his masculine features. As she slid the card back in, she saw another behind it. Red and yellow. He was a member of the Thornbury Woods’ Fire and Rescue Team. She glanced down at him, unconscious on her floor. “You’re not doing so hot of a job at rescuing at the moment.”

Leaning over, she looked at the red skin of his cheekbones and frosty beard. On instinct, she cupped his cold face between her hands. “Please wake up,” she whispered.

His skin gained some temperature beneath her touch, but there were no signs of immediate response. She pressed a little harder, as if that would help get the heat in better.

After a moment, his thick brown lashes fluttered, then his eyes opened to reveal sleepy green eyes. “Hey, there, pretty lady,” he muttered, his words ever so slightly slurred.

Not a good sign. Definitely delusional. She had to get him warm right now.

“Come on, big boy, we’ve got to get you under some hot water.”

When he stared blankly up at her, she scooted over to the spot right above his head. Sliding her hands into the space between his large shoulders and the floor below, she pulled, urging him upright. He clumsily obeyed, tilting a little as he sat up. Brynn countered the pressure with her hands.

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