Page 2 of Curvy Girl and the Mountain Man Wolf
I bundle her up in her coat, hat, and mittens, then grab our emergency bag from the trunk. It's not much—some granola bars, water bottles, a flashlight, and a first aid kit. I'd thrown it together in a moment of paranoia before we left Denver, never thinking we'd actually need it.
The wind cuts through my jacket like it's made of paper, and I immediately pull Lily close against my side. The snow is coming down harder now, and I can barely see ten feet in any direction.
"Which way, Mommy?" Lily asks, her voice muffled by her scarf.
Good question. Behind us, the road disappears into darkness. Ahead, it curves around another bend, leading God knows where. But staying with the car in this weather isn't an option. We'll freeze.
"This way," I say, pointing ahead. "We'll follow the road and find help."
We start walking, my arm around Lily's shoulders. The snow crunches under our feet, and already I can feel the cold seeping through my boots. How long can we keep this up? How long before hypothermia sets in?
The road curves and climbs, and with each step, the wind seems to get stronger. Lily stumbles, and I catch her, my own feet slipping on the icy surface. The flashlight's beam barely penetrates the swirling snow, creating more shadows than illumination.
"I'm cold, Mommy," Lily whispers, and I can hear her teeth chattering.
"I know, baby. We'll find somewhere warm soon." Another lie. I'm getting good at them.
But what choice do I have? I can't tell my five-year-old daughter that we're lost in a blizzard on a mountain road with no cellservice and no help in sight. I can't tell her that I've failed her again, that my impulsive decision to leave Denver might have put us both in mortal danger.
We keep walking, and I try to calculate how long we've been on foot. Fifteen minutes? Twenty? It feels like hours. The cold is becoming unbearable, and I can feel Lily getting weaker with each step.
Then, through the swirling snow, I see something that makes my heart leap—a light. Faint and distant, but definitely there. A house? A cabin? I don't care what it is, as long as it's warm and has people who can help us.
"Look, Lily," I say, pointing toward the light. "There's a house up there."
She looks up at me with eyes full of trust, and I pray I'm not leading us toward another dead end. But what choice do we have?
The light grows brighter as we struggle up a steep driveway that's barely more than a track through the trees. My legs are burning from the effort, and I'm practically carrying Lily now. But there it is: a cabin, solid and real, with warm light glowing from the windows.
We made it. We're going to be okay.
I half-carry, half-drag Lily up the steps to the front door and pound on it with my fist. "Hello! Please, we need help! We're lost and our car broke down!"
Silence. Then footsteps. Heavy footsteps that seem to shake the porch boards.
The door opens, and I find myself looking up—way up—at the largest man I've ever seen. He's massive, easily six and a half feet tall, with broad shoulders that fill the doorway.
Long dark hair frames a face that's mostly hidden by a thick beard, but I can see his eyes. They’re pale gray, almost silver, and currently staring down at us with what might be shock or annoyance.
For a moment, neither of us moves. He's wearing a heavy flannel shirt and dark jeans, and he radiates a kind of raw, primal energy that makes every instinct I have scream danger. This is not a man who's used to visitors. This is not a man who wants visitors.
"Please," I manage to say, my voice barely audible over the wind. "We're lost. Our car broke down. My daughter… She's just a little girl. She's so cold."
His gray eyes flick down to Lily, who's pressed against my side, and something in his expression shifts. Not softer, exactly, but different. Less hostile.
"How did you find this place?" His voice is deep, rough, like he doesn't use it often.
"We were driving to Cedar Falls. The GPS took us up some mountain road, and our car overheated. We've been walking for—" I stop, realizing how this must sound. How we must look… Two strangers appearing out of a blizzard at his isolated cabin.
He's quiet for a long moment, those strange gray eyes studying us. I can feel Lily shivering against me, and I swallow my pride.
"Please," I whisper. "Just until the storm passes. I have a little money—"
"Keep your money." He steps back, opening the door wider. "Come in before you both freeze to death."
Chapter 2 - Kane
I can smell them before they even reach my cabin door. The scent cuts through the storm. The fear, the desperation, and something else. Something that makes my wolf stir for the first time in years.
