Page 8 of Being Bold
Before her brain processed what he meant, she felt someone behind her.
“Felix?” Mr. Dao’s gaze moved beyond her head.
Selene spun around, or she would have, but something had pricked her in the neck.
Where’s Yumi?That was her last thought before her consciousness slipped away.
Chapter 3
Bo
Bo blinked the past from his eyes and zeroed in on the woman lying at his threshold.
Shit, that was real.
Skirting the glass littering the floorboards, he rushed to the cabin door and fought the wind to close it. The icy bastard whistled in protest as he threw the latch. They didn’t need to lose any more heat before he could light another fire. Turning on the overhead lights, he prepared to attack the next problem. All five feet seven—maybe eight—of it.
Where the hell did she come from?
He lived in the middle of nowhere for a reason. Mainly—isolation. He’d never seen another soul on his property. There were hiking trails in the forest to the east, but just getting to them from his home was nearly a full day’s hike.
Crouching next to the prone woman, he brushed the short strands of hair off her face. Her profile was classically beautiful, the symmetry of her forehead and chin highlighting a natural balance between her features. Her hair was as black as the night sky. The flurries caught in it even glistened like stars under the overhead lights. More snowflakes coated the long, dark eyelashes resting against the apple of her right cheek. When hesmoothed them away, his fingers grazed her skin. It was pale and cold to the touch.
Not a good sign.
He remembered how she’d clutched her head and knew he needed to assess her for injuries. Had she been on a hike and fallen? She had to be lost to have wandered so far off the trails. Reaching for her shoulders, he carefully rolled her onto her back. She certainly had an attractive face, exotic even. Younger than he’d thought. His eyes took in her black parka, the snow-crusted boots, and . . .work pants?
Bo frowned. It looked like she was wearing suit pants under her coat. That’s not what you wore to go hiking in the forest. He tested the cloth. The black wool was soaked through, making him swear. She was probably on her way to being hypothermic. Unless he wanted to drive her to the hospital in this weather, he had to get her out of the wet clothes and into something warm.
“Miss? Your clothes are wet. I’m taking them off you to prevent hypothermia, okay?”
The woman didn’t respond. Not that he’d expected her to, but it seemed like a good idea to try before he stripped her naked.
Bo scrubbed his hands down his face and blew out a breath. Rocking back on his heels, he pushed to his feet. Before he undressed her, he needed something warm to clothe her in. He headed back toward the kitchen, climbing the ladder to the loft above.
The space wasn’t tall enough for his six-foot-two frame to stand in, so he crouched as he reached for the piles of clothes stacked next to his bed. If you could call it that. It was literally just a mattress on the floor. Grabbing a hoodie, sweatpants, and a pair of wool socks, he shuffled back to the ladder. When he turned around to climb down it, he knocked his head on the ceiling.
“Dammit!” Grumbling because he did that more times than not, he chucked the clothing to the floor and placed his hands on the rungs. He swiveled to check on the woman, but she hadn’t moved. Worry made its way into his chest. The nearest hospital was over an hour away in Bozeman. He hoped she didn’t need it.
Once he’d descended, he retrieved the clothes he’d tossed and knelt by the woman again. He started with her boots, undoing the laces. When he pulled the first one off, he cursed. She wore only thin dress socks, and her feet were blocks of ice.
Removing the other boot, he set the shoes by the front door. Next, he gently lifted her feet, removed her thin socks, and put his too-big pair on her. With that done, he needed to get her wet coat off. Bo moved closer to her waist and lifted her into a sitting position. When her head lolled to the right, he noticed the gash above her left ear.
That’s a fucking bullet graze.
His jaw set, and he ground his teeth together as surprise bled to anger. Who would shoot at this woman? And exactly what level of danger had fallen into his lap?
Sporting a not-atypical glower, he lifted her hair out of the way to get a better look at the wound. It had stopped bleeding, but the torn skin would probably swell. Thankfully, the nearly two-inch abrasion wasn’t very deep. Releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, he decided on clothes first, then he’d tend to that.
Getting her out of the rest of her garments wasn’t an easy task, but he managed with a lot of lifting and twisting. He’d broken a sweat by the time he had her in his hoodie and pants. Wiping his forehead on the sleeve of his henley, he glanced at the fireplace. He had to get that going next. She might be dry, but she was far from warm.
Slipping one arm under the woman’s shoulders and another in the crook of her knees, he lifted her. Staring down at her face,his heart did a weird half-skip in his chest. Thoughts of how well she fit in his arms followed the strange sensation.
What the fuck?
Needing her out of his grasp as fast as possible, he lowered her onto the couch. With purely clinical movements, he pulled the hoodie around her head to trap in warmth, then propped a pillow underneath it.
She looked . . . peaceful. He wasn’t sure if she was sleeping off the shock of whatever she’d been through or if the mild hypothermia was the reason for her slumber. If he let the back of his hand linger against her cheek, it was only to check her temperature, which was still too cold.
