Page 3 of Awakening the Wild
She looked at the sky like she was going to scream again. Rain ran down her face in streams, and she was starting to shiver. Her silk blouse was practically see-through now, clinging to curves that made my mouth go dry despite the circumstances.
Don't look. Don't think about it.
"How far to town?" she asked, voice smaller now.
"West Burke? Twenty miles of dirt roads like this one." I gestured at the muddy track. "Most of it worse."
Her face went white. "Twenty miles?"
"You didn't plan this very well, princess."
That sparked fire in her eyes. "Don't call me princess."
I almost smiled. There was steel under all that designer polish. Thunder rolled across the mountains, close enough to make the ground shake. The storm was moving fast, and these squalls could dump a shit ton to water without warning. I'd seen experienced hikers die in weather like this.
This woman wouldn't last an hour.
“I guess I’ll wait out the storm in my car and then call a garage. Once I get signal back,” she muttered.
"You can't stay out here. You'll freeze in those wet clothes."
"I'll be fine."
Stubborn little liar. She was anything but fine, and we both knew it. Her lips were turning blue, and she was swaying on her feet.
The smart thing would be to have her stay put and call Jerry from the garage to rescue her when the storm let out. But something primitive in me growled at the sight of her suffering.
"My truck's back at the main road," I said, making a decision I'd probably regret. "I can hook your car up to it and tow it out of the way. And we should get you somewhere warm. Mary’scottage won’t have any heat or electricity." And since it had been abandoned for over a year, I wasn’t sure it was even livable anymore. But that was a tomorrow problem.
Hope flared in her eyes before she quickly suppressed it. "I don’t have much cash on me, but I’m good for it.”
Great, she was one of those who thought you could just throw money at a problem and it would go away. "I don't want your money."
"Then what do you want?"
You. In my bed. Under my protection.
Where on earth had that come from? But it was true. I wanted to strip those wet clothes off her shaking body, wrap her in warm blankets, feed her hot soup until color returned to her cheeks. I wanted to carry her to my house and keep her there until she stopped looking over her shoulder like she expected someone to hurt her. I wanted things I had no right to want from a woman I just met, and a desperate one in distress.
"I just want to get you out of this rain before you die on my property," I said gruffly. "Bad for property values."
She almost smiled at that. Almost. Then she nodded, apparently deciding that a mountain man with an axe was safer than hypothermia.
Smart woman.
"Let’s go," I ordered, using the tone that made grown men listen without question. "You can sit in my truck while I see about towing your car."
"I really appreciate this."
“No problem.” It was a problem though. She was a problem. I liked being alone. I didn’t like small talk or women who had fancy clothes and manicures. I shouldn’t like Tonya Lorenzo. But I did. I really did. The thought should have annoyed me. Instead, it sent dark satisfaction through my blood.
I shook off the primitive response and lead her back to the truck. I was just being neighborly, nothing more. I’d consider it payback to Mary for all the Christmas cookies. I'd get her granddaughter warm and dry, help her figure out her situation, and then I could go back to my blissful solitude. After she got in, I dug around in the cab until I found a heavy flannel shirt I had lying around.
"Here."
She looked at the shirt like it might bite her. "I'm fine."
"You're turning blue. Put it on."
