by Kara Kelley
When her list was complete, she’d find a small town, settle in, and pray they’d never find her, but if they did, she’d at least have seen the places she longed to.
Avery’s breath was labored and her exhaustion was in full force, but if she wanted to see her plan through, she had to push herself and get back to the Jeep.
Looking ahead, Avery wondered how much farther she had to go. Not only did she have to get back and get her money and gun, but she had to make sure no one else found it. It would raise suspicion, and damn, if they figured out the car was stolen and she got caught—. She swallowed. How had her life gotten so complicated? One minute she was a simple farm girl going off to college, the next she was married to a con artist and her life was crumbling around her.
The wind had picked up, so she tightened the jacket around her throat, but her mind lingered on Alex. It was partly her own fault for falling for him. Maybe if she hadn’t been so eager for love, she would have seen through his façade—the money, plus freedom from her strict, unloving grandparents, had intoxicated her. She hadn’t been thinking clearly, and she hadn’t sobered for years.
Drawing in a breath, she steadied herself against a tree. She’d grown up praying that her grandparents would love her. As she got older, the prayers, childish dreams, and memories of a life with unconditional love had disappeared. Then she met Alex, but he was just as much of a disappointment.
The brush was tangled and frozen since the temperature had risen for a few days and then dropped suddenly. Every time Avery slipped on ice, or her foot snagged on tangled roots, she’d break out in a sweat, and her stitches would pull painfully.
Keep moving. One foot and then another.
The sight of the Jeep made her eyes widen, first in relief that she’d made it and then in shock. How had she survived when the vehicle was so mangled? She narrowed her eyes quickly as the gusts of frigid wind made them water.
She was humbled by the wreckage. It was a miracle she’d lived, let alone still stood. A wave of dizziness struck, and her vision doubled. She grabbed the Jeep to steady herself. Her hands were freezing, and the cold steel didn’t help.
Looking to the ground, she breathed in deep and slow, but the moment her vision cleared she noted the frozen prints on the ground. It brought her mind back to the crash and rescue, remembering a bear. Her brow furrowed at the thought. Maybe it was a dog, she considered. But those prints definitely looked bear-ish, and there was another set too.
Avery crouched lower and examined them. Maybe… a cat? Not a house cat though but a wild cat—something big and dangerous. She shivered and stood, closing the coat tighter around her neck again and peering around. What was in these mountains?
She climbed with her knees onto the driver’s seat, ignoring the stabbing pull to her leg sutures—not to mention the bitter cold that blew up the back of the jacket. She had to find her purse, and she needed some shelter. She looked up as the snow started.
Anxiousness flooded her the more she looked unsuccessfully for her purse. She wanted out of the woods as fast as possible—away from the elements, bears, cats, and… as if on cue a lone wolf howled in the distance and several answered, sounding nearer. Her hands trembled and she felt terror building. She sucked in a deep breath. She was just overwhelmed and exhausted. She’d be okay. Wouldn’t she?
After several more minutes of riffling through the wreck, she was still empty handed. She stood staring, dumbfounded, ignoring her eyes that watered profusely from the bitter wind. Her purse was gone. The money, the gun, her bag of toiletries and change of clothes—all gone. A wave of nausea had her doubling over, and panic overtook her. Had her husband’s killers found her already? She clutched her knees for support and tried to control her rapid breathing.
“Lookin’ for something?” Yukon’s gruff voice made her bolt upright and the world started to spin so fast she stumbled and ended up on her butt. She groaned in embarrassment, but she was relieved at the sight of him, especially as the wolves howled again.
He grumbled a curse, sounding disgruntled and hoisted her up. She swayed unsteadily and shivered from the cold. Him looking completely comfortable in the icy wilderness pissed her off.
“Wanna tell me what the hell you were thinking leaving Annie’s? Walking three miles when yesterday you couldn’t even get to the bathroom alone?” he growled, sounding more beast than man. “And how about being out in this?” His gloved hand gestured up to the falling snow and howling wind. “They’re predicting a massive storm. One that will take the lives of anyone stupid enough to get caught in it. Do you want to die, little girl?” His hands slammed onto his hips. “Do you?”
“Uh, of course not.” Wasn’t death-by-nature exactly what she’d been wishing for a week ago? He grunted, yanking her out of her thoughts. “I didn’t know,” she mumbled dumbly.
“It’s been all over the news you’ve been watching for days.” Avery leaned forward and clutched her knees again—this time breathing in and out in steady puffing breaths. She hadn’t given a damn about the weather report; she was watching the news for anything pertaining to her or the two men who chased her.
He swore again, walked to the rear of the Jeep, and popped open the door. Walking back to her, he bent down, scooped an arm behind her knees, and lifted her up, making her yelp in surprise. He sat her down in the back. It was the only place unaffected by the crash, but the wind blew in, curved around and back out with a bitter whine.
“You’re in no shape to be out of bed, little girl,” his voice shouted over a loud rush of wind. “You’re also in no condition to be exploring the forest with cougars, bears, and wolves around in a friggin’ storm. Especially not where the smell of blood is strong enough to attract predators for miles.” His arms were across his broad chest and his stern eyes plowed into hers. She felt a blip of nervousness and more heat.
She was confounded by her attraction to this gruff man. She should have been repulsed by his abrupt and demanding mannerisms, but she wasn’t. She tilted her head. There was concern underlying the grousing. This man cared. How could he care when both her family and Alex hadn’t?
“Where’s your coat?” she asked, suddenly noticing he wasn’t wearing one. He didn’t appear cold, but he should have. He was only wearing a blue checkered shirt with a white waffle-knit thermal under it. “You have the nerve to lecture me and you don’t even have a bloody coat on!” His right brow shot up and he looked hard at her attire. She looked down at herself. Oh, yeah. She was wearing his coat. She looked back at him meekly. “Oops.”
“Not only did you take my coat, little girl, but my keys, too.” She felt the pockets and frowned, her gut sinking. She started shrugging out of the coat but he stopped her with a warning glare, so she pulled it back on. He came closer and pulled it tighter, buttoning it up to the neck until she no longer felt the frigid air at her throat.
“Little girl?” She hugged her gut. “Why do you always call me that?” Her voice felt hoarse.
“Any woman acting like you may as well be a little girl—one in desperate need of some discipline.” His eyes narrowed. “If you weren’t such a mess and it wasn’t so damn cold, I’d put you over my knee right here.” He leaned both arms on either side of her and leaned close. “Besides, you won’t tell me your goddamned name so I have to call you something, don’t I?”
“Oh, yeah. I guess,” was all she could reply. These threats did something strange to her insides. She looked at him with a head tilt, suddenly feeling amused. “Discipline from my daddy?” she smirked inappropriately, remembering their conversation when he’d fed her.
“Yes. What you need is a damn good spanking.” His mouth curved slightly beneath his beard. “From your daddy.”
With his handsome face so close to hers and his mention of spanking, she squirmed on the hard, cold storage space. There was something about his no-nonsense, self-assured manner that made her insides turn to mush. She leaned back to give herself some space and his stern eyes tightened further
.
“Thank you for saving me, but I need to get out of here.” She shoved forward this time, hoping he’d step out of the way. He didn’t.
“Do you by chance have my purse? I can’t find it.” She tried to put on her sweetest smile, but then remembered her face. A girl with bandages on her head had zero flirting power.
“And how do you expect to do that?” He stood tall and crossed his big arms so he was more brick wall than obstacle. He took that position a lot, she noted, remembering his armchair-guard routine. He even slept with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.
“Do what?” she asked, distracted by his rigid stance and his wilderness-man hotness.
“You can’t walk more than a few feet without looking as weak and unsteady as a newborn kitten and besides, didn’t you hear me about the storm?” He put his hands on his narrow hips and her eyes followed to his thick thighs.
“What’s your hurry, little girl?” he asked, making her look back up at his scrutinizing glare. Her gut flipped nervously as his eyes shifted between hers. Was he reading her? Her throat worked to swallow. His expression tightened a fraction. Was that annoyance or the biting wind, she wondered.
Her jaw clenched angrily as she slid off the back of the Jeep. He had no right to judge her. She gingerly moved past him, going back to the side door to look in the wreckage for her purse again.
“None of your damn business!”
He snorted.
“Maybe I should have left you here for the cougar,” he said. “Seems I went through a lot of effort for someone with a death wish.” He walked back to the front of the Jeep and picked up the shotgun he’d brought with him. Her eyes widened in fear a moment as the flash of Alex’s bloody murder hit her, but before he noticed she hid it with anger. “Death wish? You think I have a death wish?” she cursed, spinning on him and then regretting it as she stumbled, catching herself at the last second by grabbing his hard forearm. She looked at her hand, tiny against his brawny arm, and swallowed dryly before releasing him.
“I want to live more than anything.” she said aggressively, looking up at his hard blue eyes. “I want to find beauty in the little things again, to garden and dodge waves at the beach. I want read books, drink wine, play badminton on a hot summer afternoon until I’m left in a heap of giggles on the grass. I want to fall in love again, sit by the fire on a snowy afternoon, and stay up all night talking on the phone. I want to live, damn you!” She straightened and attempted to slam the door to the Jeep but it only groaned and whined, bouncing back toward her. She huffed and crossed her arms, looking up to keep the tears pooling in her lids where they were, but the wind blew them across her cheeks anyway. She turned back to him, her eyes finding and holding his. “But doing so requires me getting as far away from this wreck as possible. And my purse isn’t here and I need it.” Her head was pounding and she closed her eyes, letting more tears spill onto her cheeks. The stitches burned and her muscles ached from overdoing it after being in bed for almost two weeks. She tried to ignore her growing panic and anger, burying it deep. Were those really things she wanted? To fall in love again? After the crushing disappointment of Alex all these years? After being used yet again by someone that was supposed to have her best interests at heart? A gust of wind pushed her and she held herself strong and leaned into it. When the world pushes, sometimes you need to push back.
When she opened her eyes again, his face was unreadable. Was it anger that pulsed from him? What right did he have to be angry with her? He didn’t even know her—not even her name. Her gaze dropped and she started around the other side of the Jeep. Maybe her purse had slid across the seats.
She yanked the door and started tossing anything she found out of the Jeep in a temper. The guy she stole it from was a bloody slob too, so there was a lot to throw. Yukon came up behind her and she pelted his chest with some fast food containers with vehemence. She stared, pausing for his reaction for a few beats until his brow cocked and she spun back to complete her mission. Before she could toss another thing, a loud pop sounded and her cold ass stung.
“What the…?” He’d smacked her ass? Before she could protest further, another several sharp cracks landed on her bottom and he wrapped his arm gently, but firmly, around her gut and pulled her away from the Jeep. When he released her, she was speechless, only absorbing the absurdity and the tingling beneath the seat of her jeans.
“That’s enough, little girl. Damn well enough. You need to snap out of this crazy rant and think straight.” A blast of cold wind bit as if supporting him.
She hollered a fury-filled curse skyward and he leaned close.
“I have never met someone more in need of a good hard thrashing than you.”
She balked and he straightened, his stormy eyes filling with satisfaction. She gritted her teeth and reached back to punch him as hard as she could, but he caught her wrist and yanked her hard against him. Tears of frustration stung her eyes. She started to push from him but his brows cinched tight and his arm rose, the flat of his broad palm poised to deliver another swat, so she stilled. She blinked, her chest heaving in exertion against his. He was solid and so was his damn hand.
“I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” she said in disbelief, her mouth curving down into a small frown. He released her wrist and she shuffled back.
“I’m sorry.” She lowered her face into her hands. She didn’t even know why she was apologizing. He was the one who had hit her, she reasoned, but it was stupid to throw a tantrum in her condition.
She probably did deserve the spanking for being such a mess, and it had certainly snapped her out of her fit, but he was a stranger. She sucked cold air through her fingers, logical thinking calming her. It was a relief to have someone notice she was falling apart, and to be concerned without ulterior motives. But he had no reason to care, and no reason to stay with her. Who was this craggy mountain man?
“Come on,” he said gently, pulling her hands away from her face and tilting her chin up with his crooked finger. “I figured I’d find you here and I brought you something for pain if you need it.” He removed a bottle of over-the-counter tablets from his jeans pocket and shook them. “Can you walk?”
She nodded, still confused by his care and unexpected gentleness after he’d smacked her ass, and after she’d attempted to wallop him. It overwhelmed her. More watery emotion threatened, but she drew a breath and stood tall. She hadn’t cried since everything had happened. She’d refused to. Crying was a luxury she couldn’t afford. She’d learned that as a child.
She wouldn’t be that weak little girl again. No way. She was going to survive if it was the last thing she did. She’d damn well go down guns blazing. The last thought made her chuckle to herself. Suddenly she was some Rambo chick? Yeah, right. A Rambo chick who threw a temper tantrum and got her butt smacked by a rugged dominant wild man.
Chapter Four
The walk to his cabin was awful, mostly because she’d already exhausted her short supply of energy getting to the Jeep and throwing her fit. They had to keep stopping for her to catch her breath, but when she finally threw her arms up and told him to leave her there, he only shook his head.
“I can’t,” she said pathetically. Yukon paused, looking quizzically at her. She shivered, again pulling the coat tighter. His mouth twisted, and he surprised her by wordlessly picking her up. He made it seem effortless, and she was too tired to fight him anyway. Plus, he smelled good. And even though he was bulky with muscle, he was comfy.
“For someone so determined, you’re whimpering and whining a lot,” he stated plainly. She didn’t fail to notice his breathing remained unlabored despite her weight and the incline.
“I guess you did something to me when you smacked my butt,” she said sheepishly. “Thanks for snapping me out of my frenzy.” Again, he looked at her as if she were an enigma.
“Frenzy?” He shifted her higher in his arms. “That was no frenzy. It was a good old-fashioned temper tantrum.” His mouth twitc
hed beneath his scraggly facial hair. “Hence the old-fashioned remedy.” Her cheeks warmed in embarrassment, and a jolt of fire went straight to her core.
She shrugged and set her head on his shoulder. Ignoring the fierce wind and his grizzled snowy beard tickling her face, she relaxed against him, wondering what he’d decided during his scrutinizing assessment of her. And why had she whined? She’d been on the run for a while. There was no time or energy for whining. It was all about survival.
Her lids drifted closed. When this man took charge, she felt less alone, and while she couldn’t afford to rely on anyone, maybe she could allow herself some time to rest and recuperate. The wilderness man could take charge and run the show just for a little while, right?
* * *
When she opened her eyes, she was in a bed. The wind was howling, and icy snow pelted the window, so she nuzzled back against the pillow. It smelled like Yukon, a mixture of wood smoke and outdoors. Picturing his ruggedly handsome face made her middle swirl, and remembering how stern he’d been and the feel of her body against his caused the swirling to intensify.
She tried to concentrate on how he’d been at Annie’s—grumpy, clearly uncomfortable in the small space, and demanding. It didn’t have the effect she wanted, though. Instead of shoving away the warm feelings, they only blossomed in her further. And then there was her final thought.
He’d stayed—just because she’d asked in a moment of pain-riddled madness.
She sat up on the edge of the bed. Her clothes, badly in need of washing, were hanging on a wooden chair beside the double bed. She looked down at her naked thighs. She was wearing a t-shirt—just a t-shirt. She swallowed hard. He’d undressed her? Instead of being horrified, her nipples tightened and the muscles between her thighs clenched.