Page 7 of Rugged Mountain Man
“There’s a storm moving in tonight,” he replied. “It’s expected to dump a lot of snow and temperatures will be well below zero. You’ll be a block of ice by morning.”
“Which is exactly why you should keep your coat,” I pointed out.
He shook his head.
“I’ll be here by the fire. You take the bedroom.”
“Why? I’m the uninvited guest. I should be the one to sleep on the couch.”
“Because the bedroom has a door,” Cormac said simply. “It doesn’t lock, since I never had a reason for that. But you can useone of those kitchen chairs and wedge it under the door handle as a barricade. That works about the same as a lock and key.”
I glanced over my shoulder at the bedroom as the implication of Cormac’s words sank in. He was giving me privacy, safety, security. I could rest easy, knowing there was a door between me and this man that I just met.
I reached over and picked up his coat. The dark green fabric was stiff and heavy, with a downy soft faux fur liner that felt like a puffy cloud. It didn’t have that musty, cloying smell of disuse either. As I slipped it on, I breathed in the sharp scent of pine trees, black coffee, and spicy clove soap.
I chastised myself for being ridiculous. That scent belonged to Cormac, and I had no right to be comforted by it when he was a stranger. I didn’t know him. What if he was just as volatile as my ex had been?
On the other hand, I reasoned, Brock had never toasted bread and cheese by the fire for me like this. In fact, Brock had never cooked for me at all, claiming it was a task beneath him. If he wanted food, he would go out to pay for a meal.
I burrowed into the depths of Cormac’s coat, still warm from his body heat. Now that I had a belly full of food, the fire was making me drowsy. I stifled a yawn, willing myself to stay awake.
“Go to bed, KitKat,” Cormac said. “Before you fall asleep sitting up. In the morning, I'll drive you into town, if the storm hasn’t blocked the roads.”
I didn’t have a reason to argue, so I rose to my feet and headed for the bedroom, taking the fire poker with me. Just in case. I paused at the threshold, swaying on my feet. Cormac was outlined in gold from the firelight, seated on the floor, one elbow propped on his knee.
Something about him seemed…serene. Steady as a rock. Maybe it was my fatigue, lowering my defenses and messing with my common sense, but the truth spilled out anyway.
“My ex,” I said.
Cormac turned to look at me.
“What?”
I gestured to my face.
“He’s the one who…did this.”
Understanding dawned in Cormac’s eyes and a muscle twitched in his jaw.
“Do you expect him to come looking for you?” he asked.
I shifted in place, uncertain. Part of me knew that Brock would never bother to hunt me down. He’d made it clear that he could find a better girlfriend—one who was actually pretty—any time he wanted to.
But that anger in Brock’s eyes still sent a chill through my bones. He was probably furious that I ran away. I stood up to him by packing my things and walking out. Since I’d never done that before, there was no telling how he would react.
“I'm not sure,” I admitted.
Cormac nodded.
“Well, chances are, he won’t find you here. And even if he does, he won’t lay a finger on you again.”
The iron in Cormac’s voice eased the tension between my shoulders that I never realized I’d been carrying for all this time. Did I believe him? I couldn’t decide. Brock had fed me words that I wanted to hear. Maybe Cormac was doing the same.
Grabbing a chair from the kitchen, I dragged it into the bedroom with me, as Cormac had instructed. Closing the door, I wedged the chair under the handle. It didn’t totally put my anxiety at ease, but it was better than sleeping in the open, unprotected space of the living room.
It was significantly colder in here, away from the fire though. I propped the fire poker against the wall, within reach, and crawled under the covers, too tired to care about their musty,stale scent. My eyelids drooped with exhaustion as the wind shrieked outside, rattling the windows.
Despite how tired I was, I didn’t think I would sleep a wink. But before I knew it, the rising sun woke me, warm and bright in my eyes. The smell of coffee permeated the cabin. Snow piled up against the window pane in little drifts, weighing down the tree branches outside until they threatened to snap. More snow was still coming down in thick, fluffy flakes.
