by Amelia Wilde
“Makes sense.”
“And most of them, especially up front, couldn’t pay for a full-time PR person. If I didn’t need a regular paycheck, I’d start a business with different types of services. Affordable graphic design and marketing packages, general PR advice, consultation. I’d also work with nonprofits to help acquire funding and I’d only charge them once they got the money.”
“That’s…amazing.”
“It’s my dream job.”
“Do-gooder.”
I hid my smile against his chest. “I think we all know who the Good Samaritan is around here.”
He let out a gruff sound and pulled me closer.
I’d never been particularly snuggly with boyfriends, but this didn’t feel like an encroachment of my private space. Not even close.
I felt cocooned. Safe. Right.
25
Micah
It was too hot to sleep. Or something.
Careful not to wake Christa, I got out of bed, grabbed my crutches, and went into the other room, followed by the girls. The fire had died down, so I put a couple logs on, even though the air was suffocating.
I glanced at the thermometer. No way was it only 58 degrees in here.
Shit. Shit, I needed to go outside or something.
I walked to the big front window and pulled back the curtain. Bright as hell out there. And cold, judging from the frost on the glass.
My cabin didn’t usually feel this small, or hot. Wasn’t a place I escaped, but the place I escaped to.
I’d let her ruin that. Anger spiked through me, sharp as an ax.
I needed out. I swung toward the door, just crazy enough to go outside with my crutches, buck naked, wearing just a slipper, and stopped when my eye landed on my desk.
What the hell was that?
Part of me knew damned well I shouldn’t look, but I had to.
The first page was a series of rectangles. My business card, redesigned by someone who knew their shit.
Even drawn out roughly in pen, her designs were good. She’d put www.micahgraham.com at the bottom and drawn climbing trees on either side. They got progressively more complicated, the pictures more detailed. The next page was just a tree, with a guy holding a chainsaw at the top. Me. On the next one, she’d added the dogs at the base of the tree.
The beauty of the drawings was how plain they were—same with the business cards. They weren’t all froufrou and full of useless details. When she drew, she used just enough lines to make the picture. No more than she needed. They were really good.
And, somehow, she’d captured me in them. Not just some random arborist, but a big, bearded loner.
I returned them to the desk and sat on the sofa, stared at the flames in the wood stove until I could breathe normally again.
My body temperature dropped and I felt the cold again.
If I went back to bed, I could wake up with her tomorrow. Christmas Day. She’d hum in her throat, back her ass up against me. I’d find her so wet I’d slide right into her, from behind. Lazy and slow in the bright morning.
Couldn’t remember the last time I’d wanted something this bad—so bad it hurt.
Actually, I could. The day I’d come to in the hospital and understood that my leg was gone. That day, I’d wanted to back up time and change the way shit had gone down. I’d begged and prayed and pleaded to God to give me another chance.
Pointless.
I rubbed my hand to my chest, hating this feeling of not enough, when I’d been fine with what I had before.
My open bedroom door called to me, made me want to get up and head in there and keep wishing for things I couldn’t have.
So, I ignored it. I grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch, wrapped it around me, and settled in alone for a long winter’s night.
CHRISTA
“Mmmmmm.” I woke, stretched, sniffed…coffee?
My eyes opened to see bright light, pouring in through the bedroom’s single window. Not home. I blinked fully awake. The cabin in the woods. Micah’s. The man who’d saved me and then…
Fueled by panic, I turned and put my arm out. Oh, my back. It was worse, if possible, than yesterday.
I was alone. And had been for a while, judging by the coolness of the sheet beside me and the sweet smells coming from the kitchen. Had he even slept here with me or had he spent another night on the sofa?
I didn’t have to be in the other room to know that Micah was outside. The house felt empty. Not only was there no sound, but there was no…presence. And despite his quiet, the man filled up a room.
Which was fine. It was fine, because he probably had to take the dogs out and feed them, and whatever else he did of a morning. None of which included me.
But it sent sadness through me, along with a wave of fear.
It had stopped snowing, he was awake and gone, I was alone. We’d have today, still, I guessed. And possibly tomorrow. Maybe longer, depending on snow plows and stuff like that. But this thing wouldn’t last much longer.
And when it was over, I’d be devastated.
Christ. I would not freaking cry again. Especially not about the amazing sexual experience we’d shared. He’d rattled me. I’d rattled myself, if I was honest. But I refused to get melancholy before it even ended.
I rolled to the side of the bed and sat up, wrapping the thick, down-filled comforter around me. Every muscle ached, but the difference between yesterday and today was that they ached for the right reasons now, along with the wrong ones. Oh, I still felt the accident, and probably would for months to come, but a new series of pains had emerged, sweet ones, where Micah had held me or stretched me, or where our bodies had rubbed each other raw. There was a luxuriousness to it. And also a wistfulness that I—
Shut up.
I didn’t have shoes or a purse or a phone or even conditioner for my hair. Right now, I would settle for clothes. Preferably clean ones. And, man, it would be nice if they fit.
Yeah, right.
I stood and waddled to a dresser, wondering how rude it would be to open a drawer and rifle through it. Very, probably, but I couldn’t exactly walk around the place in a feather-stuffed cape.
The first drawer contained neatly-folded boxer briefs. I closed it quickly…and then opened it again. Man, he was neat. Everything perfectly put away, the piles neater than anything I’d created in my life.
The front door opened with the usual sound of eight tiny dog paws, and I slammed the drawer shut guiltily, stepped away from the dresser, and stood in the middle of the room, breathing hard.
“Hey!” I called out cheerily.
“Hi. So, do you—”
One of the dogs barked and it was loud. Funny, I hadn’t realized how quiet they were until they let out a cacophony of sound.
Micah stiffened, turned, and stalked toward the door.
I’m not sure why I hung back. Regular old caution, maybe, and the fact that I was buck-ass naked under the man’s blanket. Whatever instinct it was, I stayed in the room and listened. Eventually, I heard the sound that had gotten them all so stirred up—an engine.
I should be relieved. If someone was driving out there, then there was a chance I could get home.
Wasn’t I just fantasizing about shoes and panties and flowery-smelling shampoo?
It made no sense at all that the sound made me want to dive back onto the bed and hide under the blanket I currently wore. Well, except that I didn’t want to leave.
At all.
26
Micah
Pete Carter’s tractor made it about halfway up my drive before he gave up and hoofed it the rest of the way.
And because it was Pete and not that Jonathan Crandle King of the McMountain shithead, I went inside for the coat and boots I’d just taken off, ignoring the smell of coffee and fine woman I’d be leaving behind. Because Carter only ever came up here for real emergencies.
“Probably gonna need to take off, Christa. You be okay in there?”
&
nbsp; “Oh. Oh, yeah. Sure.”
“You got everything you need?”
“Course.”
Carter knocked—polite, as always—before sticking his head in. “Got a crew down there needs you. Trees on the line and their truck’s stuck.” He made that funny little clicking sound in his mouth and turned, as if looking for a place to spit his chew. “Idiots.”
“Be right there,” I told him, ignoring his curious look as he went back out.
Once he’d gone a few steps, I turned to Christa. “Grab whatever clothes you need. Feed the fire. Make food. It’ll probably be a while.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
I wanted to go in there and kiss her, warm my cold, rough outdoor hands on that soft, inviting skin of hers, but there wasn’t time.
Carter and I spent the next five hours getting a power company crew out of a jam. They shouldn’t have been out here to begin with, but now that rich assholes had started buying up the mountain, the pressure must be on. People who had no idea how to survive without their fucking espresso machines and hot tubs.
They should be forced to stay home without internet for a few days, maybe come to terms with the real person inside instead of posting fake-life selfies on fuckstagram. And here I was aiding and abetting that behavior by helping out the power crews. Of course, these guys weren’t to blame. In fact, these were the ones who’d left their families on Christmas Day to help those jerks.
God, I hated society sometimes. Most of the time.
But maybe a little less today, thanks to a certain little woman keeping my cabin warm right about now.
CHRISTA
There was only so much napping and staring at the fire petting the dogs, and reading tool catalogues that I could do before getting antsy. I’m a terrible cook and the last thing I wanted to do was ruin perfectly good ingredients by messing with them, so I drank coffee and snuggled with the girls and dozed. Overall, it was a pretty lovely way to spend Christmas morning.
Or it would have been, if Micah had been there.
So, when Bear barked, followed a few minutes later by the sound of footsteps tromping on the front porch, I was so excited I couldn’t keep myself from running to the door. I threw it open and…
The smile melted off my face.
“What the fuck?” Jonathan Crandle, ex-boss, dickhead extraordinaire, and the last person I wanted to see right now, stared at me from under the hood of his fur-lined parka, open-mouthed, red-faced, and sweaty.
I fought the urge to step back and close the door, lock it, pretend I couldn’t see or hear him, and go hide in Micah's bed. No way would I show this guy any sign of fear or weakness.
“How’d you end up here…Christa, honey?” Even out of breath, he managed to be repulsive. His eyes slid down my front, lingering on where my braless breasts strained the fabric of Micah's long-sleeved T-shirt.
Honey? Was he fucking kidding me? I folded my arms over my chest. “What did you call me?”
“Christa? That is your name, right?” He chuckled, which sounded more like a gasp. Had he walked here? “Had a girl worked for me for two years before I realized she was Marian and not Marilyn. Or maybe the other way around.” He shrugged, signifying how little that silly story of mistaken identity impacted him, and it was all I could do not to kick him in the testicles. Again.
“What are you doing here, Jonathan?”
“Oh, funny story.” He put his hands out, palms forward like he always did when chatting with a new customer or starting a presentation. “Power went out. And…well, I’ve got the gas fire, but um, that’s out too. And the generator’s dead, so…I’m stuck without heat.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“So…” He looked over my shoulder into the cabin and the dogs growled. “The man of the house around? Thought he might…”
“Might what?” Micah spoke as he stalked up the front path.
We both jumped. I’d gotten such tunnel vision from the anger this guy brought out in me that I hadn’t heard him approach.
“Oh, hey, neighbor!” Jonathan’s fake friendly voice. I wanted to puke. “Hoped you might have some heat or shelter or…gas for a guy in need.”
“No.” Micah's steps took him up the stairs, forcing Jonathan to scoot to the side or be crushed, and straight to my side. He wrapped an arm around me. “Next question.”
“Uh. Question? Well, I’m not… I can’t…” Jonathan blinked fast, his eyes darting between us. “You wouldn’t let a man die out here on his own would you, neighbor?”
“I’d be tempted.”
“Are you two—”
“None of your business.” Wow. Implacable, hard Micah was sexy. In a scary kind of way. A muscle ticked in his jaw and the hand at my waist was tight and possessive.
“No, actually, you know what, Jonathan?” I put a placating hand on Micah's and stepped forward, hardly feeling the cold of the porch floor against my sock-clad feet. “It’s a little bit your business, isn’t it? Because you’re the one who forgot.” I used air quotes, because we all knew he hadn’t forgotten a thing. “To tell me that the company holiday party was canceled. You’re the one who plied me with booze for an hour before telling me that nobody else was actually coming. And you’re the one who pulled out your penis and peed off your porch before putting your hands on my body against my will. Which, for the record, Jonathan, is sexual battery in this state.”
“Oh, come on. You’ve got to be—”
Micah made a move and I stopped him with a straight arm, fueled by righteous anger. “I almost died because of you, Jonathan. I came out of your driveway on a night when nobody should have been driving on this mountain—which you knew since you canceled the damn party—swerved and went off the road.” He opened his mouth, but no way was I letting him get a word in. “I hung there, stuck in my car on the side of a cliff for God only knows how long before Micah came and found me. He risked his life saving mine. So that’s what I’m doing here, you disgusting excuse for a human being. I’m celebrating Christmas with a real man. The best man I’ve had the honor to meet. The kind of man who saves women instead of assaulting them.”
Jonathan’s eyes were round on us now, disbelieving. “Come on now, you can’t—”
“Goodbye.” I turned and walked back inside, followed by the dogs and, after a few long seconds in which silent threatening messages were likely passed from one man to another, Micah. He closed the door firmly and locked it.
“I want to kill him.”
I nodded, so full of adrenaline that just that small movement made me dizzy. “I know. I’m so thankful you didn’t.”
He went to the window and looked out before closing the curtains. “Fucker’s not leaving.”
“He won’t.” I wasn’t sure how I knew this, but I did. “He’s got no idea how to survive out here.” Which meant he’d die if left to his own devices. And though I hated the fucker, watching him freeze to death on Micah's front porch wasn’t something I could let happen.
“I’ll give him our gas.” Our gas. Wasn’t it funny that he said it that way?
“And carry it up to his place for him?” He opened his mouth and I interrupted. “And how long will it last? Clearly, the guy’s just guzzling energy.”
“Probably got his whole fucking house rigged up to the generator.” Micah sighed. “Fuck.”
I nodded. “So, we invite him in?”
27
Micah
“I’ll take him to town.”
Christa’s brows rose. “I thought you couldn’t drive in this.”
“Shouldn’t. But Pete Carter plowed the road down to where the power crews worked today and the county plowed up to that level. We can get out in my truck.”
I tried to suck in a deep breath and only filled my lungs about halfway. Why’d they hurt so much?
“So…you’d take him down and come back?” She didn’t look any happier about it than I felt. Which was good, I guess.
I didn’t mention that by the time w
e got down there, the roads would be refrozen and I couldn’t drive back up. I moved to the fire, threw in a couple logs to safeguard my pipes from freezing, as much as was possible.
“I can drop you at your place, too.” I flashed a smile her way. “You can see your grandma for Christmas.”
“Oh.” She ran her hand over my desk, looking…sad, maybe? Couldn’t be. She’d be going home.
“We’ll bring the dogs.”
“Okay.”
The asshole stomped across the porch and pounded at my door. Wasn’t gonna be easy to keep myself from killing him.
Ignoring him, I breathed deeply and I eyed her bare feet. “You need shoes.”
“What are you, like size 14?”
“We’ll stuff ’em with socks.”
At her nod, I went and packed a bag full of extra clothes and socks, a sleeping bag, a couple blankets, just in case, and a bunch of dog food. She slipped into a pair of shoes and, though she claimed to look clownish and ridiculous, I was pretty sure I’d never seen anything cuter in my life.
Fuck, I had it bad.
“Hey, man!” Crandle pounded at the door again. “I’ll pay you! Just let me in.”
The only reply he got was the dogs barking.
With everything packed and Christa all bundled up, I sucked in a regretful breath and reached for the front door.
“Hey, guys, what’s the—”
“Taking you to town.”
“Oh, man. That’s great. Great, thank you. You can drop me at—”
“The city limits. You can get a cab from there. Or a schmuber or whatever the fuck it is assholes like you do.”