Page 4 of Comforted By The Mountain Man
My hands close around something warm and soft and definitely human. A person. A woman, based on the curves I can feel beneath my palms. She's wet and slippery, and she's fighting like a wildcat, her elbows and knees moving in panic.
"Let me go!" The voice is high and terrified, distinctly feminine. "I have a kid! Please don't hurt us!"
"Whoa, hey, calm down," I try to say, but she's not listening. She's still struggling against my grip, and in the chaos, I feel fabric give way under my hands.
Then the moonlight streaming through the window illuminates what I'm holding, and my brain completely short-circuits.
She's naked.Completely, absolutely naked, with water dripping from her dark hair and skin that looks like it's been kissed by moonlight. Her eyes are wide with terror, hazel and beautiful, and fixed on my face like I'm the devil himself.
Time stops. Everything stops. The sound of rushing water, the feeling of my boots slipping on the wet floor, the ache in my head where she clocked me with whatever makeshift weapon she found. All of it fades into background noise because I'm looking at the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life, and she's standing in my arms without a stitch of clothing on.
"Oh, God," she whispers, and I can see the exact moment she realizes what happened. Her hands fly up to cover herself, but there's nowhere to hide, nothing to grab onto. The towel that must have been around her is now a soggy heap at our feet.
I should look away. I should give her my jacket, except I'm not wearing one. I should do something, anything, other than stand here like a complete jackass, staring at her like I've never seen a woman before.
But I can't move. Can't think. Can't do anything except memorize every curve, every line, every detail of the woman who just tried to brain me with what I now realize is a toilet plunger.
"Turn around!" she finally manages to gasp out, and the command breaks through my stupor.
I spin away from her so fast I nearly lose my balance on the wet floor, my heart hammering against my ribs like it's trying to escape. Behind me, I can hear her scrambling around, probably looking for something to cover herself with.
"Who are you?" she demands, and there's still fear in her voice, but there's anger now, too. Good. Anger is better than terror.
"Asher Hunter," I manage to say, my voice coming out rougher than I intended. "I live next door. I saw the water and thought..." I stop, trying to get my thoughts in order. "I thought the place was empty. I was trying to help."
"Help?" There's disbelief in her tone. "You broke down my door!"
"Your door?" I turn around slowly, making sure she's covered first. She's wrapped in what looks like a sheet, her dark hair plastered to her head, water still dripping from her skin. She's clutching the fabric like a lifeline, and her eyes are still wide with a combination of fear and fury.
"You live here?" I ask.
"As of about three hours ago, yes." She takes a step back, putting more distance between us. "And you just broke into my house where my son has to sleep."
The accusation hits me like a slap. She's right. I did break into her house. It doesn't matter that I thought it was empty,doesn't matter that I was trying to help. I broke down her door and scared the hell out of her.
"I'm sorry," I say, and I mean it. "I thought the place was abandoned. I saw all the water and..." I gesture helplessly around the room, where water is still flowing steadily from what I assume is the bathroom. "You've got a serious problem here."
She follows my gaze and seems to remember the crisis that started all of this. Her shoulders sag with what looks like exhaustion and defeat.
"I know," she says quietly. "The shower pipe broke when I tried to turn it on. I don't know how to fix it."
And just like that, the pieces click into place. She's not some squatter or vandal. She's a woman who just moved into a falling-down cabin with a kid, and now she's dealing with a plumbing disaster in the middle of the night.Alone.
"Where's the water main?" I ask, already moving toward what I hope is the right direction.
"I don't know." The admission comes out small and defeated. "I don't know anything about houses or pipes or..." She gestures around the flooded room. "Any of this."
I find the water main in a closet near the kitchen and turn it off, stopping the flow immediately. The silence that follows is almost deafening after the constant sound of rushing water.
"That'll stop the flooding," I tell her, turning back to face her. "But you're going to need a plumber to fix the actual break. And someone to deal with all this water damage."
She nods, but I can see the overwhelm in her expression.
"I can help," I hear myself say, and I'm not sure who's more surprised by the offer, her or me.
She studies my face in the dim light, and I can practically see her weighing her options. Trust the strange man who just broke down her door or try to handle this disaster on her own.
"Why would you do that?" she asks finally.
