Page 47 of Recurve Ridge

The forest. The peace I garnered. My safety net. Jon.

A moment where light faded around me, and I sank?—

Hard, warm arms wrapped around me, catching me before I hit the ground that wavered beneath my feet. Hard, like Robe. Warm, like the cabin’s interior. I leaned my cheek against Jon’s enormous pec and listened to his heartbeat thump away, so close and reassuring.

“It’s all right, honey. I’ve got you.” Jon repeated the words over and over like a mantra that came paired with a bonus wall of impenetrability.

Warm, like mountain sun on a clear spring morning.

Hard, like a huntsman. No, a tin man. The man who couldn’t share his heart because he’d forgotten he had one.

Pleased with the analogy, I labeled Jon for something to do while my feet found their bones and I supported myself again.

I emerged for air, sucking in the mix of cinnamon and morning sun that lanced off his body. “You’re like a big stuffie,” I muttered, turning my face into his chest and pressing my lips against his sternum.

My mind froze while I stood there, kissing his—rather massive and very impressive—chest.

Way to go, Mari. Kiss random chests because they smell and feel nice. That’s the way to live in a cabin full of men.

“Uh….” I scrambled for something to say, trying to extract myself at speed while going slow enough to cover my faux pas.

“Take it easy, Mari,” Jon commanded.

I reacted to his tone, easing my way backward as he steadied me with a dipped brow over hazel eyes shot with sunlight and cypress. “A step at a time. I know it’s been a while now, but that’s one hell of a trauma. My fault for dragging you into a section of the woods you don’t know. Yet,” he added, like his choice of words contained a hidden meaning.

Was it that simple? I could waltz around with Robe and let him leave me alone with Miller. The stockier man and I had developed a fragile rapport over the last week based on the number of bruises I accrued every session without complaint. Each aching muscle appeased my relentless taskmaster in working off some debt or sin I’d garnered alongside my scars. Every time my ass hit the deck, my throbbing rump earned me a fraction of his trust.

I hadn’t realized how much I craved that until he failed to mask his emotion for a scant second one session. Brief, but that longing formorewas there. To be…needed.Wanted. No matter how hard he worked me after that, Miller couldn’t steal that knowledge back from me.

Jon, on the other hand, gave trust far more freely, his hurts displayed in place of his heart like a banner across his broad chest.

“No, not—wait. Yet?” I pressed my lips into a line, but they twitched despite my determination. “What’s up your sleeve, Jon?”

The big man laughed, catching my hand again and closing his fingers around mine in a fierce grip when I tugged at his hold, my feet skidding over last season’s slushy mulch. “Nuh-uh. You stay put, girl, right next to me. No wandering off, no getting lost. No freaking out… again.” He sent me a meaningful sideways look.

“Otherwise, Robe will hand you your ass. Yeah, I know what a grump he is,” I muttered to my shoes, the embarrassment of almost passing out on his best friend sinking in. “I’m so sorry,” I offered in a quiet, muted voice, unwilling to disturb the growing silence around us.

Where were the birds when I needed a cacophony or rent-a-crowd on cue?Oh, that’s right, freezing their feathers off, or warm in their nests.

“Don’t apologize, Mari. I’ve known too many women who say ‘sorry’ over and over again because they’ve been broken and beaten and it’s all they know. I can’t believe that of you. You’re stronger than he is.”

“Robe?” My brow furrowed as I halted, looking up at Jon.

“Him too. But I meant—” He cleared his throat. “I meant those who attacked you. This forest isn’t your enemy. I’m determined that by the time we’re done, you’ll be able to survive out here for days if need be. Weeks, if you have the right kit and can find shelter, which, after today, you’ll be able to do.”

“I will?” I echoed. “Are we orienteering?”

“Damn right.”

I grinned as Jon showed me the smallest foods to be found in the harshest of seasons. How to find north beneath an entwined canopy, what tracks and scat meant, where to locate water. The information swirled around my head, but this was survivalism at its best, and I would learn, damnit. And so I listened, and remembered, and watched.

“Here. Wild strawberry.” Jon crouched to dig at the slush-laden ground. I had no idea why he chose to scrabble about there, but he clearly had a plan as he proudly exposed a dead-looking, leafless root thing. He held out a crunched-up leaf from last season, frostbitten on the edge, and at my confused look, he then produced a more recognizable fruit from his pocket with a sigh. “Here you go, city girl. I went shopping earlier. Just for you.”

Strawberries weren’t the only thing hidden in his Mary Poppin-esque pockets. After ingesting blueberries and a stunted blackberry I suspected came from an actual, out-of-season, berry-bearing forest bush without being poisoned, I popped the fruit into my mouth and moaned out loud. “Oh, wow. That’s so sweet. Have you thought of making a hydroponics shed? Something solar powered so you can grow these all year round?” We both knew Alan was the only one who left the cabin at any regular interval, and maybe Will, though I got the impression he had less freedom than he wanted.

“Not a bad idea, honey. Bring that up with our resident chemist.” He smiled at my confused look. “Alan.”So I guessed right.“And yes, they’re some of the best you’ll find. But the fruit isn’t the only useful thing.” He held out a handful of broad dark green leaves before he shoved them back into the coat pocket they came from. “You won’t find many of these about yet, but a few more weeks and you’d be able to pick a decent amount.”

“Are you going to ward off a tribe of zombie beavers with that?” I asked, still savoring the berry.

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