Page 2 of Awakening the Wild
And she was trespassing on my property.
She jumped like a startled deer, spinning to face me with wide eyes that went even wider when she got a good look at me. It wasn’t a reassuring sight for a woman travelling alone. I was a six-foot-four mountain man covered in mud and carrying the axe I'd been using to clear storm damage from my access road.
I probably looked like her worst nightmare. Most women took one look at me and crossed the street.
"You lost?" I called out, staying back so I wouldn't spook her.
"I—" She clutched her fists like she could hurt me with them. I tried not to smile at that. "My car broke down."
No shit. Steam was still pouring from the engine, and she had oil stains on her pretty, but impractical outfit. This woman had no business being within fifty miles of Burke Mountain.
"This is private land," I said, stepping closer despite the way she tensed. "You're trespassing."
"I'm looking for my grandmother's cottage." Her chin lifted in defiance even though she was clearly terrified. "She left me property on Sugar Maple Ridge."
Her grandmother's cottage? That stopped me cold.
Old Mary Lorenzo had been my only neighbor, living in the run-down cabin about two miles from me through rough woods. She had been a sweet old lady who'd brought me maple cookies every Christmas and never stuck her nose into anyone else’s business. I had liked her, in as much as I liked anyone outside of my brothers. She'd died last winter, and I'd assumed the state would claim her property.
I looked her over again—expensive clothes, soft hands, the kind of pale skin that screamed indoor living. This slip of a city girl was Mary's granddaughter? "What’s your name?"
"I’m Tonya Lorenzo. Did you know my grandmother?"
"I’m Kevin Pike. She was my neighbor." I studied her face, looking for any resemblance to the tough old bird who'd lived through ninety Vermont winters. "She never mentioned you."
Pain flickered across her features. "We grew apart."
I snorted. Probably too busy living her privileged city life while her grandmother aged alone on the mountain. I hated people who only showed up when someone died and left them something. But then I noticed her hands were shaking. Not from cold, though the rain was turning brutal. From shock, maybe. Or fear.
Not your problem, Pike.But I went over and took a look at the car.
“Pop the hood,” I said. “And stay in the car out of the rain.”
She popped the hood, but she stood next to me when I looked at the engine.
"The engine's blown."
"Can you fix it?"
I almost laughed. "I’m not a half bad mechanic, but you don’t need one. You need an exorcist to revive this thing or a new engine. Better still, a whole new car."
Her face crumpled for just a second before she pulled herself together. “It was the only thing that was mine. I had it since I was sixteen.”
“They don’t make them like they used to,” I said.
She squared her delicate shoulders like she was preparing for battle. Christ, she was trying so hard to be strong when she was clearly falling apart.
"Then I guess I’ll have to walk to my grandmother’s cottage. Can you point the way?"
"In those shoes? You'll break your neck before you make it a hundred yards."
"I'll manage."
The hell she would. It was three miles of rough terrain to Mary's place from here, and that was if Tonya didn't get lost. Night was falling, temperature dropping, and this woman probably couldn't camp in the woods if her life depended on it.
Which it might, depending on the shape of Mary’s cottage.
"The storm's getting worse," I said, watching lightning flash in the distance.
