Page 2 of Glacial Mountain Man
I stared at him, my heart hammering for entirely new reasons now. Stay the night? With a strange man? A very large, very attractive, half-naked strange man who lived alone in the mountains?
As if reading my thoughts, he sighed heavily. "I'm not going to hurt you. But if you stay out here, this storm might. Your choice."
The wind picked up, rocking my small car slightly, and snow began falling even harder. I looked at my phone again. Still no signal.
He was right. I didn't have a choice.
"Okay," I called out, my voice barely audible over the wind. "Thank you."
He nodded curtly. "Get whatever you need for the night. And hurry up. I’m freezing my ass off out here."
2
TANK
Car windshields could conceal a lot, especially in a haze of snow.
Even after she stepped out of the car, the woman’s fur-lined hood had covered most of her face. But as soon as she walked through my front door and slid that fur-lined hood off, all the air seemed to be sucked right out of my lungs. What had I gotten myself into?
I didn't have a choice, though. It wasn't like I could just leave a woman stranded in her car in ten-degree temperatures. So here she was under my roof, coat on a hook next to my front door, clutching a mug of hot cocoa between both hands as she sat on my couch.
The oversized sweater she wore couldn't hide her curves, and when she shifted to tuck her legs under her, the movement drew my attention to the long line of her thighs. I forced myself to look away, but not before she caught me staring. A flush crept up her neck, and she bit her lower lip—a gesture that sent heat straight to my groin.
"It's just a few miles," she said, her voice slightly breathless. "I'm sure in the morning my dad can come get me."
I almost laughed out loud at those words. During our introductions, she’d revealed she was from South Carolina—a place that had probably never seen snow like this. They'd be lucky if they ever even got a light dusting.
"The main road might not be passable tomorrow," I said.
It might not be passable for a week. She didn't need to know that, though.
I could be stuck with her for days. The thought of having her here, sleeping in my spare bedroom just twenty feet away, tempting me with those big blue eyes and full lips, should have bothered me. Instead, a thrill of excitement went through me. No matter how hard I tried to tamp it down, it was still there.
"When did you last eat?" I asked, watching her cradle that mug like it was a lifeline.
She blinked at me. "Eat?"
"Food. When?"
"Um…" She bit her lower lip again, and this time I couldn't look away fast enough. Our eyes met and held for a moment too long. The air between us crackled with something I didn't want to name. "I had a granola bar around noon, but I was so focused on beating the weather that I didn't want to stop for dinner."
I shook my head and started for the kitchen, grateful for the distance it put between us. Distance that I needed to catch my breath.
"Can't have you starving under my roof,” I said.
The refrigerator held the basics—eggs, cheese, condiments. I found some leftover chili I'd made yesterday and set it on the stove to reheat, then pulled out a sleeve of crackers and a block of sharp cheddar.
"You don't have to cook for me," she called from the living room.
"Already doing it." I sliced the cheese into thick chunks and arranged them on a plate with the crackers. "So, what brings youto the mountains for Thanksgiving? Besides getting lost in my driveway."
"My parents moved here last year. Dad retired from the school district, and they wanted somewhere quieter."
Her voice got closer, and I turned to see her standing at the kitchen entrance, still holding that mug.
She'd moved silently, like a cat, and now she was close enough that I could smell her shampoo—something floral and sweet that made me want to step closer and breathe her in. Instead, I gripped the wooden spoon tighter and focused on stirring the chili.
"What about you?” she asked “Are you from here?"
