Page 3 of Arctic Mountain Man
Eventually we broke into a clearing. A small log cabin sat nestled at the edge of a ridge. It was rustic and charming all at once. There was a stack of chopped wood and an axe stuck in a stump, a small porch.
“Is this yours?” I asked softly.
He didn’t answer.
He shoved open the door with one big, booted foot and stepped inside. The cabin was small but clean, with rough-cut wooden beams that held up a tall ceiling, a stone hearth, and a kitchen that was surprisingly modern looking with shiny stainless steel appliances. Apparently, my mountain man rescuer liked his creature comforts.
He set me gently down on the couch, then disappeared down a hallway. When he came back, he held a first aid kit, a bottle of water, and a folded quilt. Still silent.
“Drink,” he ordered. I took the water and gulped thirstily. Aaron had not believed in breaks along the trails. He’d barely stopped when I’d sprained my ankle.
My rescuer crouched down in front of me, removing my sneakers and socks with a strange gentleness, like he knew how easily things could break. He grunted when he held the sneakers up, one brow arched. He didn’t need to say anything. I knew they weren’t appropriate for hiking in the woods, but I hadn’t been given much warning for the impromptu trip.
“Fine. Go head, judge me.”
“Already did. Now I’m deciding what to do with you.”
My pulse skipped a beat and suddenly I didn’t know if I wanted to poke the bear—or run.
CHAPTER TWO
Blake
The woman I’d just rescued was staring at me like I was some kind of feral animal that might pounce at any second. Smart woman. The only pouncing I was thinking about had everything to do with getting my mouth on every inch of her soft skin.
Fuck.
I tried not to notice how she looked on my couch. I hadn’t had anyone in this cabin for over six months—and the last time, it was just another man like me. Scared. Isolated. We’d traded a few words, checked in on each other and then he’d left.
This woman? She didn’t belong here. Not on the mountain. Not in my cabin. This was my space. My sanctuary. I didn’t do houseguests, and I sure as hell didn’t do curvy brunettes with smart mouths and eyes that saw too much.
Still, when I had knelt in front of her and wrapped my hands around her ankle, the sound of her breath catching had lit something dangerous in me. A low, burning fire of need I hadn’t felt in years.
“What’s the verdict, Doc?” Her voice had a sassy edge that made me want to throttle her. Or flip her over this couch and fuck the attitude right out of her.
“Sprained. Not broken.” I kept my touch clinical, professional, even though her skin was impossibly soft and warm under my fingers. “You’ll live.”
“Well, that’s a relief.”
Smart-ass.
I glanced up at her, and she was watching me with those dark eyes, chewing on her bottom lip. There was something vulnerable there, underneath all that attitude. Something that made my protective instincts flare even hotter. My cock twitched, hungry and impatient.
Shit. She might be exactly what I needed.
The thought hit me like a sucker punch. I’ve been alone on this mountain for three years. Three years of peace, quiet, and no complications. Three years without a woman in my bed, without soft curves under my hands, without the sound of a gasp or moan meant just for me.
I wrapped her ankle with more force than necessary.
“Ow! Easy there, mountain man.”
“Name’s Blake.”
“Well, Blake, I’m Sadie. And unless you’re trying to cut off my circulation, maybe dial it back a notch?”
Sadie. It was sweet with a bite.
“Sorry.” I loosened the bandage, and she sighed in relief. That sound… fuck it went straight to my dick.
