Shame.
Like I had something to hide from him, something that made him better than me. How dare he make me feel that way!
He didn’t know me.
I flipped open my laptop, ready to pour out my soul, my frustration, and ended up doing nothing but staring at pictures of Noah and me, and swiping the tears that leaked onto my cheeks.
I was miserable.
Stuck with Julian Tennyson, one of the richest men alive.
And wouldn’t you know, People magazine’s most sought-after bachelor.
And all I wanted to do was march into his room and tell him he was wrong.
But I had no fight left in me.
And I was afraid the minute I opened my mouth up to argue, he’d find a way to weasel in deeper and I’d tell him my truth, I’d tell him my hurt because men like him always wanted everything.
And then he would leave.
And I would have to come face-to-face with the fact that I wasn’t just sad.
I was depressed.
And alone.
Chapter Six
JULIAN
I felt like shit.
The whiskey wasn’t doing anything, and I knew sleep wouldn’t come, but if I had to sit in silence with that woman for five more minutes, I was going to lose my mind.
Damn, but she was hostile.
And I’d barely spoken to her other than trying to get her the hell out of my cabin and into something new.
She looked vaguely familiar, though I still wasn’t sure why. Didn’t every pretty girl look the same?
They were all fake anyway.
At least that’s what I told myself, because if I actually thought about it, I thought about Isobel, and then I started analyzing every little thing I had done wrong, every situation in which I treated her like an object instead of a person. I’d labeled her as fake because even though she tried, I knew she was never happy as she changed herself to measure up to my father’s demands, to mine. I saw her smiles becoming less genuine the longer we were together. It felt easier generalizing all women than looking in the mirror and seeing the guilt in my own eyes.
I punched the pillow and flipped over to my side and shivered. It was freezing in the house, I probably should have set a fire in each of the bedrooms, but I wasn’t thinking past my annoyance at the girl who refused to speak to me.
Everyone spoke to me.
I was powerful in every way that mattered. Women threw themselves at me on a regular basis, especially after my falling-out with Izzy. Getting a woman—any woman—to like me wasn’t usually a chore, the biggest issue was leaving her in the morning while she slept, not that it was my MO to do so. I hadn’t slept around since before the coma, and even then, it had been a giant drunken mistake.
I winced at the memory and shook my head.
I thought if I shared my name with her, she’d be more forthcoming. Instead, it seemed to make her even more irritated.
I’d never had that problem before. If anything, women tended to gain interest the minute they realized how much money I had. I wasn’t sure what to do with one who almost seemed to hold it against me.
Another shiver wracked my body. With a muttered curse, I threw the blankets over to the side of the bed and went in search of more firewood. We’d gathered enough to start a fire in my room and hers; at least she’d see I wasn’t a complete ass.
I slowly made my way into the dark living room, confusion warring with a bit of annoyance that she’d let the fire go out after only an hour, and then a cold breeze picked up. I glanced toward the door.
Not only was it open, but snow was making its way in.
A chill ran down my spine as I quickly put on my shoes and grabbed my jacket. She wouldn’t go out by herself, not at night, right? I mean I’d told her as much earlier, but I had been right there. I was trying to scare her away, not get her killed!
I grabbed my cell and turned on my flashlight as I stomped out into the blizzard. We already had well over a foot and it was still coming down hard. What the hell had she been thinking?
And how long had she been out there?
I rounded the corner and froze. She was lying facedown, the previously white snow now stained red.
I opened my mouth to yell.
But I didn’t even know her name, did I?
Breathing another curse, I fell to my knees next to her and felt for a pulse. It was there—barely. “Hey, wake up . . .”
She let out a moan.
Thank God.
“Hey.” I shook her lightly. “I need you to wake up. I think you hit your head, and I don’t know how long you’ve been out here.”
“Is it gone?”
“Is what gone?”
“The elk.” She shivered. “Huge.”
“You fought an elk?”
“I lost.” Her teeth chattered as she tried to sit, she brought her hands to her lips. The fingers were fire engine red, and looked frozen solid.
Shit.
“Can you walk?” I asked, gently cupping her face with my hands. Blood was sticking to her right cheek and was scabbing near her ear.
She seemed confused, like she wasn’t sure if she knew how to answer that question, which only made my panic increase.
The blizzard was bad.
It wasn’t stopping.
And she needed better medical attention than I was prepared to give her.
“Come on.” I stood and pulled her to her feet. She stumbled against me. Biting back yet another curse, I threw her over my shoulder as gently as I could and made the trek back into the house.
I immediately set her on the floor right in front of the fireplace. “Stay awake, alright?”
She moaned but nodded her head.
I ran as fast as humanly possible back outside to grab more firewood and made it back just in time to see her nod off.
“No!” I yelled, knowing I was being rough. “You have to stay awake, you could have a concussion.”
Honestly, I didn’t know what she could have.
A concussion?
Internal bleeding?
Her teeth chattered as she blinked her eyes open and tried to focus on me.
I built the fire while watching her out of the corner of my eye, every few seconds she’d close her eyes too long, and I’d grunt.
Apparently, my grunt was terrifying enough for her to jerk awake and glare at me.
Good. I was okay with her anger if it kept her awake long enough for me to try to figure out what the hell to do.
“Cold,” she whispered. Her lips were starting to turn blue.
I sighed helplessly and shrugged out of my jacket. “You know I was joking earlier when I said we’d need to use body heat.”
She blinked slowly as I pulled my sweater over my body and tossed it on the floor then jerked my sweats down until I was standing in front of her completely naked.
I didn’t give her time to process what I was about to do, instead I grabbed one of the down blankets off the couch and spread it behind her, then very gingerly tried to peel off her jacket.
Thankfully, she didn’t protest until I made it down to her bra and underwear, which were soaked through.
“I need to take these.” I was asking permission from someone who could die if I didn’t get her core temperature back to where it needed to be.
She swatted my hand away and then hung her head. “So tired . . .”
“Nope.” I patted her left cheek lightly. “Stay awake, princess.”
“Princess,” she repeated like it disgusted her.
Her snarl was almost endearing as I unhooked her bra and then pulled her against my chest, easing her wet underwear down her legs and mentally apologizing to whomever she belonged to for not just seeing her naked but undressing her, exposing her, and worst of all, looking.
I pulled her freezing body against mine and wrapped the blanket tight around us as we sat in front of the fire. Chills wracked her body as I rubbed up and down her arms.
I need
ed a plan.
Get her warm, examine her wound, make sure she had all ten fingers and toes then call for help.
Her head lolled to the side like she was going to fall asleep again.
“Nope, sorry, I know you’re tired, princess, but we need to get warm, and then I’m going to make sure that you didn’t hit your head hard enough to die on me, alright?”
“Didn’t.” She turned in my arms and clung to my chest, tightly pressing her head against my skin. “So cold. Don’t care.”
“I know.” I rubbed her back. “We’ll get you warm, alright?”
“Sleepy.”
“No.” It was going to be a long night, wasn’t it? “I need you to tell me what happened, alright?”
She nodded and then whispered, “He died.”
“What?” I froze and pulled away my eyes, searching hers. “Who died?”
“Noah.” Her eyes filled with tears. “He died, and I’m alive.”
“Had you been in the snow longer . . . ,” I said under my breath. “Was Noah your brother?”
Husband? Fiancé? Friend?
She just shook her head. “The elk came, and then I screamed and kicked the wall of the cabin.”
I nodded. “Did he hit you?”
“Noah?”
“The elk,” I clarified, cupping her cheeks. “I need you to focus. Did the elk hit you in the head?”
“Me?” She shuddered against me. “No, the ice did, from the roof. I think it was ice, something hit my head. The elk ran.” She yawned. “Can I sleep now?”
I held her close, my hands on either side of her face as I stared at her pupils. She looked fine, she wasn’t puking, but she’d clearly been knocked out. I wasn’t sure if I needed to keep her up all night, or just keep waking her up.
With a grimace, I nodded my head. “I’m going to have to keep waking you up every few hours, though, okay?”
“Good thing you’re warm,” she whispered before nodding off against my chest.
My right arm strained across the floor for my phone.
I set three alarms, each waking me up every two hours.
And then I wrapped my arms around her and prayed the blizzard would end soon, because I was in over my head, and the last thing I needed was another death so close to one I still hadn’t recovered from—it was a selfish thought, projecting my anger and fear onto a woman who was most likely just trying to take care of herself and grab some firewood. But that was what happened when a person didn’t deal with grief. It found a way to be heard, even if it was unfair. Even if it was wrong.
“You better not die,” I said through clenched teeth as I hugged her close.
Chapter Seven
KEATON
I’d never been so hot in my entire life, and just when I was finally comfortable against the furnace I had obviously fallen asleep next to, hands would brace my shoulders annoyingly and wake me up.
At first, I thought it was a bad dream.
I was too tired to care.
I went from freezing to heatstroke all within the span of what felt like an hour, but I couldn’t open my eyes, didn’t want to, I just wanted to sleep a little bit longer.
“Princess, I know you can hear me, open your eyes and give me a little grunt so I know you’re not dead.”
Whose voice was that?
Why did it sound so . . . gruff?
Tired and sexy?
I searched my memory, but all I had was the cabin, lying on the couch, grabbing more firewood, and then nothing. I’d been irritated with the owner.
Julian.
Julian.
Tennyson.
I stiffened and then very slowly opened my eyes.
The first thing I saw was fear.
I was so unaccustomed to seeing it reflected in someone else’s face that it took me by surprise. I was usually the one trying to hide my fear every time I saw that Noah had lost more weight or gotten weaker.
Why was Julian staring at me like that?
My head pounded. I tried lifting my hand.
“I wouldn’t.” His arms tightened around me. Why was he holding me? And where was his shirt? “You hit your head.”
“Why are you naked?” My voice was hoarse, thick like I hadn’t had water in days.
His dark eyebrows shot up. “You’re welcome for saving your life.”
“Huh?” I blinked up at him. He was pretty, I had to give him that. Green eyes, hair I wanted to run my fingers through, a strong, muscular chest that refused to let me go. Where does a guy get pecs like that?
I’d forgotten what it felt like to be held tight.
To feel protected.
And that made me even more traumatized than the fact that I was completely naked in his arms while he stared at me like I was a lunatic. Noah hadn’t been able to hold me tight, he was too sick, and now I was being held, and I hated that it was nice.
“What happened?” I was afraid to move.
He sighed. “I couldn’t sleep and found you outside by the woodpile. You said something about an elk and Noah.” His lips turned into a small smile. “Unless you named the elk, I highly doubt they’re one and the same.”
I talked about Noah?
I cleared my throat. “I didn’t name the elk.”
“Too bad.” He sighed. “You were bleeding, I was afraid you had a concussion so I’ve been waking you up every few hours. The snow just stopped, but we don’t have cell service. The towers must be down.”
So much information for someone with a pounding headache, sitting naked in a stranger’s lap.
I pressed my fingers to my temples. “Okay.”
His eyes roamed across my face and then he gently touched the bandage on my right temple. “Your head should be fine, your hands, however . . .”
My hands?
I looked down and gasped.
Through gaps in the bandages around them, I could tell my hands were huge, swollen, red, and angry, and I could barely feel them. “What happened?”
“I think you have frostbite, but I’m not a doctor. I wrapped them and tried to get you warm, but they’re not cooperating like the rest of your body.”
Tears filled my line of vision. I needed my hands. People needed hands! Especially if people were supposed to type out a story due to an editor in a mere thirty days!
Panic seized my chest as I stared at my hands, a few tears leaked out onto the bandages. “But . . . my book.”
“Your book?”
“How am I going to finish my book?” I burst into real tears then. “It was my final promise to him, I promised him! Why would the universe be against this? Against me like it was against him . . .” I started to shake.
“Hey, hey.” Julian held my hands in his. He didn’t hold them tight, not that I could feel a whole lot. “I won’t let anything happen to your hands, okay?”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” I snapped.
His face lost a bit of its arrogance as he looked away and then met my eyes again. “Money buys good doctors, though people still die, that’s the sad reality. Money can’t buy more time . . . or a healthy body . . .” His eyes were glassy. “But this is frostbite, you’d let something like that set you back? O wielder of knives?”
I scowled to keep from smiling. “Now I don’t have a weapon.”
“You never needed a weapon in the first place.” He grinned.
I sucked in a sharp breath and broke eye contact. Refusing to let him see the blush that I felt warming my cheeks or the ridiculous notion I had in my head that with a man like him this close to me, I would always need a weapon and armor.
Because Julian Tennyson up close was lethal.
And Julian Tennyson thinking about me, holding me in his arms, felt too good.
I shivered again.
He wrapped the blanket tighter around us. I tried not to think about the fact that I was sitting in his lap like a child, his arms around me, his body keeping me warm.
The fire roared in front of us. “So
much for relaxing.”
He let out a heavy sigh. “Tell me about it.”
“I’m sorry . . .” I felt stupid. “For going out in the snow.”
“Look at me,” he whispered. “You were getting firewood, hardly a crime, and mere princesses can’t control the elk population, though I’m pretty sure you could have beaten him had you not gotten knocked out.”
“I went down fighting.” I chewed my lower lip and smiled.
“That’s how we’ll spin the story.” He winked. His laugh was gravelly; I felt it low in my belly. “Promise.”
“Hopefully, there won’t be a story to tell.” But even as I said it, I knew there would be a story because he was Julian Tennyson.
And I was Keaton Westbrook.
The press would pay good money for photos of us in the same room.
Add that to the fact that we were both naked.
Nobody could ever know.
It would ruin everything, including the book deal. People didn’t forgive you for being human, and they rarely forgave you for moving on with life even though it was a natural thing to do.
“Who’s Noah?” he asked.
I ignored him.
And felt his body shut down a bit right along with his interest. It was better this way, better not to let him in.
I was already naked in his arms.
I was already hating my response to him because it was so unlike the way I used to respond to Noah.
I let my guilt project itself into hate, and I directed it at Julian Tennyson, gladly, because it was better than admitting that it was nice.
Being held.
Rather than offering comfort and empty words.
It was nice, too damn nice.
Chapter Eight
JULIAN
She was beautiful when she wasn’t being argumentative. Hell, she was beautiful no matter what.
And my body was having a hard time cooperating with the signals my brain was sending, signals like Injured, Stranger, Don’t take advantage.
I wasn’t that guy anymore.
He didn’t wake up from the coma.
And any remnants left of the man who would just take what he wanted and move on had died right along with my mother.
I’d buried my past.
Or I’d attempted to.
She was asleep again. She pressed a hand to my chest and held it there like she was waiting for a heartbeat.
Finding Him Page 4