by Amelia Wilde
“You okay in there?” I called out, my voice over-loud in the ice-shrouded quiet.
A woman’s voice sounded from inside, the words unclear.
“Get the door open?” I squinted through the fogged-up glass to see her shake her head. Shit.
“Window?”
Another shake.
I stepped back, looking at the big picture. It wasn’t just the ledge and tree—a chain-link fence held the car in place. Good.
“You got a coat or something?”
The woman didn’t react at first.
“Got a scarf or a blanket? Put it over your head.” I reached for my Leatherman. “Gonna break the window.”
I watched as she pulled something from around her neck and covered her body.
“Ready?”
I gave her a couple seconds and tapped the glass, hard. In an instant, it cracked, blurring the space between us even more.
“Push it out with the scarf.”
Once she’d pushed the glass outside, I reached in and tried the door. No luck. “Sure it’s unlocked?”
“Yeah.” The woman’s voice was breathless, almost a whisper.
“Can you unbuckle?”
“Kinda hanging from it.”
“Can you hold yourself up? Use the other seat if you have to.” I put out a hand and paused. “Okay if I hold your arm?”
Another nod.
It took her a few seconds, which was understandable. Finally, holding up her weight so she wouldn’t fall against the passenger door and knock the whole damned car down, she unbuckled.
“You get your arms around me?”
“I’m…” Her voice was high and strained, like she could barely get the words out. “Holding myself up.”
“Use your legs.”
“Okay.” Her eyes met mine. They were huge; so deep they looked black. “I can’t fit through the window, can I?”
“You’ll fit.” It was one of the funny things about survival. Didn’t matter what size she was. She’d fit through a fucking porthole if she wanted it bad enough. “Grab me on three.”
With a grimace, she shifted her weight and put a hand out.
The car moved. Felt like a fucking earthquake. Or a missile strike.
I didn’t think. No time. Just grasped her under the arms and pulled. Not fast enough. She caught on something.
“Push off!” I yelled, picturing the carnage if I couldn’t get her out. “Come on!”
Everything happened at once—the car sliding, the woman tightening her hold on my waist, while her other hand grasped mine. Then slow as a tree falling, the car was gone, smashing like a pinball down into the valley. I threw myself back against the dry, grassy bank, holding her to me.
She moved.
“You okay?”
“Think so.”
“In one piece?” She shook a little and I tightened my hold. She didn’t have a coat on. “Come on.”
The trip back up was tougher—as I’d known it would be. A dozen steps through dry, tufted grass, then to the bottom of the rock face.
“You climb?”
She whispered something and shook her head. Shit.
“Okay. You go first. Put a foot here.”
She moved to do it, then stopped, swayed for a couple seconds, and grabbed my hand. I gripped it hard. “Lost a shoe.”
Not only had she lost one, but the other was a high heel—pointy and red and totally freaking useless out here. Useless anywhere.
“Kick it off. Come on.”
She did it quickly, then turned to the rock. She’d never make it in that dress—a short, tight, sparkly number. I was about to say something when she yanked it up over her hips, giving me an unexpected glimpse of thick, round ass.
“I can do this,” she said more to herself than to me.
After a couple false starts, she got a few feet up and stopped.
“Stuck.”
“Next foothold’s there. About three feet up.”
She bent her leg and reached, but it was too far.
“I’ll push you. Just be ready to push up and grip.”
“Okay.”
I put one hand on her ass, the other hovered behind her back—just in case—and pushed. “Go.”
For a millisecond, she teetered and looked like she’d fall straight back, but finally, her balance changed, she hugged the wall, and she was up. Almost. Another half a minute and she was over the edge. I followed her up, then stood.
“Let’s go.”
“Oh. Right.” She blinked down to where her car was gone. Where she’d almost bit it herself and let out a choked little laughing sound. “I might need a rest first.”
“Yeah. Just not here.”
I leaned down and offered my hand. “Let’s go before you freeze your”—damn fine—“Ass off.”
It wasn’t until she struggled to standing and pulled her minuscule dress down around her hips that I remembered her lack of shoes.
Well, hell.
Without asking permission this time, I bent, grabbed her wrist with my right hand and put the left through her legs, before hauling her over my shoulders.
3
Christa
Was this man saving me? Or had everything gone from hell to worse?
“Um, sir? I can walk.” My voice came out reedy and weak. “Would you mind putting me down…please?”
“Soon as we get to my place.”
“Your place?” All the blood was going to my head, making my words slow. My tongue felt thick. I should have been frantic, but I couldn’t seem to get a scream going. “I need to call the cops.”
“No cell service here. Call ’em from my home phone.”
“Please. I’ll walk.”
He set me on the ground and steadied me before taking his hands off me. “You got no shoes.”
I looked down. Oh. Right. No wonder it was so cold. That and my lost coat.
“Won’t hurt you. Promise. You want to walk, you walk.” I blinked at him. He was dressed appropriately for the frigid night, in a dark canvas coat, with a beanie pulled low. His face, covered in a thick beard, didn’t need much else. His bottom half, in jeans and mud-stained boots, looked just as warm. “Here.” He unzipped his coat and, before I could stop him, put it over my quaking shoulders. Oh my God, it was Heaven. “Sorry I didn’t ask.”
I waited. “Ask what?”
“Permission to pick you up. Usually…” He paused and shook his head. “Never mind.”
What kind of person had a usually that involved heaving bodies over their enormous slab of a shoulder? A fireman? A serial kidnapper? “You carry…people…a lot?” The words didn’t want to slide out past my chattering teeth.
“Used to.” He shrugged, then glanced at my feet. “Boots are big, but you can—”
Before he could take off his shoes for me, I stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “No. No, I’ll walk like this.”
“You could just let me carry you.” He looked up the mountain, to wherever our destination was. “Be faster.”
“I’m heavy. I don’t want you to—”
“Light as a feather.”
I was shuddering too hard to give him a look. I’m not light.
“Come on.”
“Not killing your…back? You swear? ”
“Swear.”
“Not planning any…nefarious activities?”
“Don’t even know what that means.”
“You’re not—”
“Kidding.” His mouth did a weird quirking thing at the corners, which I assumed was meant to be a smile. It didn’t look entirely natural on him. “Won’t hurt you. Promise on the memories of everyone I’ve ever lost.” Every word sounded dead serious.
Which I guess it would if he were a creepy person, bent on killing me, but considering that I couldn’t feel my toes—or my brain—anymore, it seemed like one of those leap of faith moments.
At my attempted nod, he grabbed my hand and bent, and suddenly I was on his back again, my bu
tt right by his head.
He huffed on—actually up—each uneven step jolting me against him, and I could do nothing but curl into his heat.
“Not far,” he huffed out. A few minutes later, I smelled wood smoke just as a dog barked, the sound muffled. I strained my neck to look ahead.
It was a log cabin, its windows glowing warmly. There was someone waiting there for him, surely. A woman, all snug in that home, dinner simmering on the stove. Or, not dinner, maybe, since it was late, but a hot chocolate or something.
I’d do anything for a hot chocolate right now.
I almost laughed. It would be really weird if I laughed, wouldn’t it?
At the cabin door, he let me down slowly. Boneless, I collapsed immediately against him.
“Can’t…feel…feet.” My teeth clacked together with each word.
He threw open the door to a madly barking dog, who looked—I squinted—happy. Something clawed at my knee and I looked down. Two dogs. A big German Shepherd-type creature and, beside it…was that one of those papillons? I blinked. A one-eared papillon.
“Back it up, girls.”
Slowly, I turned to look up at him. “Me?”
“Talking to the dogs.” He turned to them. “Brownie, quit it!”
The big dog stopped jumping on him, moved back a few feet, and sat.
“Bear, down.”
Once Bear—the little one—complied, going to sit next to her companion, he and I went in. He shut the door behind us. It was quiet in here, aside from a crackling wood stove. And blessedly warm.
“Might wanna…” He lifted his chin toward my feet. “Get that thing off.”
Thing? I glanced down, puzzled, until I realized what he meant. My tights, full of runs, with big holes in them now, choked my big toes. I couldn’t feel them.
“Have a seat. I’ll heat up water for a tea.” He paused. “Get you something to put on.”
I nodded. Blinked, swayed, put a hand out, and caught myself on the door. Oh. Boneless.
“I can’t…” I blinked at the sofa. I mean, the place was tiny, so it wasn’t far, but it looked miles away. I tried a step, but it sent shooting pain up my foot and I was much, much too tired. Or something. Instead, I sank to my butt, right there, against the door.
My savior walked back into the room with a few folded up items, and stopped when he saw me. “Bath?”
I shook my head. “Probably drown.”
“Okay. Well, here.” Slowly, he drew close, like he might approach a wild animal. He set a pile of neatly-folded fabric beside me, picked up one item—a soft plaid blanket—and put it over me, then handed me the telephone he’d stuck in his back pocket. “Call whoever you need to.”
I stared at the phone, suddenly unsure of who I should reach out to. Granny Evans, definitely, since she’d start worrying soon.
“What time is it?” I asked.
“’Bout nine thirty.”
I blinked. “You’re kidding.” What time had I left the party? Eight, I’d thought. Maybe eight thirty?
Something else occurred to me. “How’d you find me?”
“Letting the dogs out. Heard you skid off the road. Took me a while to find you.”
Something broke loose inside my chest and I couldn’t keep my head up. With an audible thunk, my forehead hit my knees. I was shaking, only not from the cold this time.
Was I crying? I turned my head, wiped my face and stared at my palm. It was wet.
How did I not know what my body was doing?
“Hey, hey. Don’t do that.”
I couldn’t stop because I couldn’t even tell it was happening. How was that for messed up?
He crouched in front of me, framed by his dogs, and I noticed his feet. He wore slippers. Grey, flannel slippers, the most out of place thing I could imagine on this big brute of a man.
“What… Um. Please don’t… What can I do?” he asked, sounding totally out of his element.
After everything that had happened tonight—my shithead boss trying to put his hands on me, then, oh, just driving off the side of a mountain, nearly dying, and being hauled back to life by this guardian angel person—I couldn’t drum up the tiniest drop of fear or suspicion.
All I wanted was a hug.
“Could you…please hold me?”
4
Micah
She wanted me to wrap my arms around her. As if I did shit like that every day.
No. No fucking way. I was good with pulling people out of wreckage and just fine humping them up the mountain to safety, but aftercare wasn’t something I had experience with.
“Uh…look. Why don’t we ca—”
Before I could finish, she’d moved from her spot against the front door to my lap, leaving me with no choice but to wrap myself around her shaking body.
Apparently, she wasn’t having the brush off. Brownie and Bear moved closer to sniff our unexpected visitor. Wasn’t surprising, since this was the only female we’d ever had here.
The woman had to be in shock. Not much to do about that, except make sure she was physically safe. Warm, hydrated.
After nudging the girls away, I grabbed the blanket from the floor and put it over her—us—trying not to smell that warm, feminine thing I hadn’t gotten a hit of in forever. Damn, it was good. The smell of woman. A drug to a man who hadn’t had it in years. Made me want to lick her.
She rubbed her face tighter to my chest and pressed hard against me.
At least she wasn’t scared of me anymore. Though, she really should’ve called the cops before trusting me like this. Hold on… I leaned over and grabbed my phone from where she’d dropped it.
“Hey, um…” Jesus, what was her name? I didn’t even know that. Didn’t know a damned thing about her. “Call the cops. Let ’em know what happened.”
She nodded, but didn’t move to take the phone. I should do it.
Just a sec.
Another of those close snuggles brought her ass tight to my crotch and I stilled. Yeah, no. Nope.
“Look, I’ll give ’em a call.” I dialed 911 and spoke as soon as the operator answered.
“Not an emergency, ma’am. Just wanted to report an accident—no injuries.”
“Go ahead, sir.”
Shit, I’d forgotten to get her name. I leaned in. “What’s your name?”
She mumbled something against my chest.
“Chrystal?”
“Christa. Evans.”
“Woman named Christa Evans. Wiped out on Pine Mountain Road. Her car…” Shit. Her car was at the bottom of the fucking ravine. I couldn’t help tightening my arm around her, then cleared my throat to get rid of some leftover adrenaline. “Black ice on the mountain. Her vehicle’s gone.”
“Can you put Ms. Evans on the phone, sir?”
“Just a sec.” I pulled the blanket away and handed her the phone, instantly regretting the distance between us. “Go on and tell them.”
“Hello?” She glanced up at me for a few seconds, then away. “Yeah. Christa Evans.” She rattled off an address and appeared to listen. “He’s…” Her eyes met mine. They were dark in her pale face, bottomless. “Are you Mr. Micah Graham?”
I nodded.
“Yes.” Another long pause. “He saved me. Risked his life. I’ll be fine… Yes. Oh. Okay. Thanks for letting me know. Thank you.”
She ended the call and handed the phone to me, then gave me another long look, her eyes more hesitant this time. She had one of those round faces turned into a heart by a pointy little chin. All of it was sort of framed by super-straight, shoulder-length hair, cut across her forehead. Reminded me of that actress in Pulp Fiction. Except fuller, her rosy cheeks and bright, almost-black eyes making her look doll-like. The rest of her was nothing like a doll. Or if it was, it was one of those blow-up sex dolls. Size XXL. “I’m safe with you, right?”
“Always.”
A big, fat tear formed at the outside corner of her eye and rolled down her cheek. I don’t think she even noticed
it. “Thank you, Micah.”
“Any time.”
With a deep, shaky sigh, she got close again. It took a few seconds for me to realize she wasn’t using me for heat and comfort this time, she was thanking me.
After what had to be close to a minute, I shifted back. “You, uh, ready for some tea?”
She sniffed and nodded, let me nudge her off me and get up. I offered her a hand, which she accepted, and pulled her to standing.
“Mind if I call my roommate, Micah?”
“Course. I’ll get you something hot.” With the girls dogging my footsteps—as usual—I moved toward the kitchen. Well, what I thought of as my kitchen, but she’d probably see as something less. Sink, oven, counter—all shoved into the corner of the cabin’s main room. At least I’d made the bathroom separate. And the bedroom. Which would give her some privacy.
’Cause she wasn’t going anywhere tonight.
5
Christa
I dialed home, hating that I’d be interrupting Gran’s shows.
She picked up on the second ring, a little out of breath. “Hello?”
“Hey, Gran.”
“Christa, girl? What you doing?”
I sighed and walked to the front window. Crap, the sky was that same weird pink. I glanced back at Micah—my guardian angel—and let the curtain fall closed before shutting my eyes and concentrating on not giving my grandmother another heart attack.
“First of all, I want you to know that I’m safe. I’m fine. Okay?”
“What the hell’s going on?”
“Got into an accident, leaving the work party.” She tried to talk and I pushed through. “I’m totally fine. Unhurt.” Not strictly true, but she didn’t need to know about my sore wrist and the shoulder I could barely move, or about the pain across my chest from where the seatbelt had held me back. It suddenly occurred to me, in a weird aside, that my airbag hadn’t deployed. Probably a good thing, given the situation. Last thing I’d need on top of this was a broken nose. “But the car’s…gone.”
Silence.
“Gran?”