by Zoe Chant
She fell.
Gasping for breath, she woke at last, sitting up in terror before she even realized that she was in a bed. Her heart still racing with terror, she blinked at her surroundings.
A room. A room lit by the light of a lamp, with a bed and curtains and a table.
She was dressed—she was wearing a shirt, and covered with a blanket.
How did I get here...?
Frowning, her mind still filled by that nightmare where she’d endlessly run through the forest, she tried to remember what had happened.
There were lights. The lights of a car coming straight at me...
Even as the memory made her gasp with remembered terror, she suddenly became aware that she wasn’t alone.
There, in the other corner of the room, a chair stood by the window. And from the chair, a man was watching her.
As she whipped her head around to stare at him from wide eyes, terror welled up once more in her—only to turn into a sudden, hysterical giggle.
From his chest, the giant face of Disney’s Baloo the bear was staring at her.
It was an incongruous sight, as though the man had accidentally stumbled into the kid’s section of a department store.
Still, even with the terror of the accident still fresh in her mind, a part of her couldn’t help but realize that the shirt was stretching rather nicely over firm pecs and defined abs and the broadest shoulders she’d ever seen.
And his eyes... His eyes were dark and deep and warm, a golden brown she could feel herself sinking into.
Then she shook herself.
“Who the hell are you?” she demanded. She was proud that her voice didn’t tremble.
For some reason, he didn’t seem threatening at all, even though she had no idea why she felt that way. She’d never seen him before, and she didn't even know where she was...
“I’m Darrell,” he said. “And you’re Carrie. You had an accident—do you remember that? The sheriff sent me out to help in the search for you. You were expected to arrive yesterday evening. This morning, I found your car wrecked in a copse of trees.”
Carrie swallowed, unable to take her eyes off him.
His words made a certain sense... She remembered oncoming headlights, and then, nothing at all.
“This is our summer camp—you've made it to Linden Creek.” Darrell gave her an encouraging smile. “How do you feel? The police should be here soon. My friend called as soon as we brought you here.”
“I can’t really remember anything,” Carrie said slowly, trying to sort through her memories.
She remembered the accident... but after that, there were only images of her nightmare. Weird memories of paws and fur and climbing trees. Maybe she had a concussion?
Still, even though she felt perfectly safe here for some reason, the thought of the police was reassuring.
Darrell gave her another smile, the face of Baloo on his chest stretching as he shifted, so that it seemed like the bear was grinning at her.
Well. I crashed the car and ruined my first vacation in five years, but at least I was rescued by a gorgeous summer camp coach, instead of some crazy weirdo. That’s not bad at all for getting lost in the woods.
“You must have shifted as soon as your car went off the road,” he said, giving her an encouraging nod. “Good thinking. There was a werewolf on your track—know anything about that? Don’t worry, I scared him off.”
Carrie was still smiling, although her expression had frozen.
Werewolves? What the hell...
“Sorry?” she asked after a moment, still trying to smile. “I think I have a concussion. I didn’t quite get that.”
“Oh shit,” he said and immediately rose to come closer. “Does your head hurt? Even with shifter healing, concussions suck. Do you feel sick? Would you feel better if you shifted back?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Carrie asked, glaring at him suspiciously as she shuffled back on the bed. “Sorry, but I’d really like to talk to the police myself. Do you have a phone?”
“Shit,” he said again, staring at her with open worry. “You don’t even remember that you’re a shifter? That’s bad...”
“Phone,” Carrie demanded again, giving him a hard look.
The man looked completely harmless—but nothing of what he said made sense. For a moment, she wondered if she was still dreaming—but her head hurt, and the bed’s headboard was digging into her back in a very unpleasant and entirely too realistic way.
“Phone,” she repeated.
Obediently, he moved towards the door.
“Don’t move too much,” he said worriedly. “If it’s a concussion, you should rest. And not think too much.”
Despite herself, Carrie snorted. “Not think too much? What sort of advice is that?”
Darrell raised his hands. “It’s what the doc told me when I managed to fall off a tree as a cub.”
A cub, Carrie thought, barely refraining from rolling her eyes. For some reason he seems harmless, but he’s a nutjob all the same. A charismatic, sexy nutjob... But definitely a weirdo. Just my luck.
With another apologetic look, Darrell at last left the cabin. A moment later, he returned with a woman by his side.
Like Carrie, she was curvy. She had a very sensible look about her, which made Carrie breathe a sigh of relief. She was dressed for the weather and the outdoors in jeans and a waterproof windbreaker—and most importantly, she held a phone in her hand.
“It’s hard to get a signal out here,” she said in apology, “but the police just arrived. If you want to let your family know what happened you’re welcome to try, but you might have to wait until you’re back in town.”
Carrie eagerly took hold of the phone, sneaking another half-yearning, half-disappointed look at Darrell.
He really was quite something to look at. The garish Baloo the bear shirt had ridden up a little, giving her a glimpse of the smallest slice of abs that looked hard as steel. He had gorgeous, tousled dark hair. It was still a little wet, with a slight curl to it. And his eyes...
Oh, his eyes. There was a strange light in them, the brown turning to a gentle gold, like sunlight dancing on the trunk of a tree in a summer’s day in the forest.
Then Carrie shook herself, shocked by where her thoughts had taken her. He was quite possibly the sexiest man she’d ever met—but he was some sort of weirdo who believed in werewolves. Quite possibly he was one of those guys who’d spend their weekends hunting for Bigfoot. If that was a thing people still did. For all she knew, these days it was all Blair witches and werewolves around here.
The phone.
Just to be sure, she dialed 911—but there was no signal, just as the woman had claimed.
Great. What’ll I do when that cop they claimed was searching for me doesn’t show up and I’m all alone with a weird—yet sexy—werewolf believer?
Fortunately, at that exact moment the door to the cabin opened again. This time, a man who had to be the local sheriff entered, followed by an older woman carrying a paramedic’s kit.
The woman—her name was Martha—immediately took control of the room, in a way that was slightly overwhelming, but also very reassuring after everything that had happened. Relieved, Carrie allowed herself to relax at last as Martha began fussing over her.
Werewolves. Really. Why can I never get lucky when it comes to men? she thought mournfully, still remembering the rippling of those gleaming abs all too well.
***
Ten minutes later, Carrie found herself in the sheriff’s car, together with Darrell. The cop’s name was Chris, and he seemed to know everyone in the camp, down to the four little kids who’d watched them leave with excited eyes from the entrance of their tent.
Carrie was still feeling a little dizzy from how quickly everything had happened, but Martha the paramedic had proclaimed her perfectly healthy. No concussion, just shock from the accident, and a little dehydration from her flight through the forest.
Obe
diently, Carrie had guzzled down half a bottle of a sports drink Darrell had readily produced, and she kept sipping on it as she looked out of the window.
There wasn’t much to see here, just forest and every now and then, when the trees opened up, the lake.
The view would have been beautiful—after all, that was what she’d come for. Two weeks of relaxation at a gorgeous, remote lake. But it was hard to forget what had happened—even though she still couldn’t remember more than the oncoming headlights.
It might be for the best. It didn’t feel like something she’d want to remember, losing control of her car like that.
Especially since it wasn’t even her own car.
“Shit,” she said when reality finally began to catch up with her. “You’ll have to call my boss—it’s his car. He booked the cabin for me, too. He wanted me to relax. I guess that backfired...”
“You’ve got a very generous boss there,” Chris said. “Does he do that often?”
Carrie shook her head.
“Was the first time,” she muttered. Her head still ached a little.
Dehydration, right.
She took another long swallow of the overly sweet drink. “It’s not like him at all—but he said I hadn’t taken a vacation in five years, and he and his wife had booked this cabin. They couldn’t go because their daughter had decided to get married all of a sudden. Honestly, who springs that on their parents with only two weeks of warning? Still, I’m sure all of this is mostly just because once again, he won’t give me that raise I asked for...”
Carrie blinked, realizing she was babbling. Embarrassed, she gulped down more of the drink, until at last the bottle was empty.
“What is it you do?” Darrell now asked. He was sitting next to her in the backseat of the car, and something about his presence was strangely reassuring.
As Carrie turned her head to look at him, she was once more hit by a jolt of overwhelming physical desire. What would it feel like to have his arms around her, to feel that gorgeous body of chiseled muscles press close?
Her mouth dry, she swallowed. “Nothing exciting. My boss has a small accounting firm, and I’m his assistant. Which in my case is just a fancy word for secretary—it’s a small firm and a small town. Honestly, it’s not a very glamorous job, but I like it. I get to do most of the daily dealings with our clients. I wanted to be an editor, originally, but that wouldn’t have suited me. I never thought I’d end up where I did, but I really need to have people around me all day, and I love doing all the organizing and planning. And I’m pretty damn good at it, too—there's no way he can deny me that raise this time, even with this vacation and everything.”
Whoops. There I go again.
Carrie blushed and fell silent.
Damn it. I’m usually much better with people. Something about him makes me nervous. What is it about him?
If anything, she should be nervous about the cop, given that she’d just crashed her boss’s car.
“And you?” she then asked to cover up her embarrassment. “What do you do?”
“Right now, I’m actually working for the people you rented that cabin from. We’ve got quite a few vacation homes around the lake. I'm helping to fix them all up. I like working with wood.” He gave her a grin. “Good, honest work. No people around you, unless you ask for help. Just the forest, and getting to work with my hands.”
“Is that what you like?” she asked, something warm and breathless shifting in her belly again—a little bit like something was physically tugging her towards him.
“It’s what I like,” he confirmed, his voice a low rumble that caused new sparks of heat to explode in her belly.
God, the things his voice is doing to me...
She shifted a little, her face heating.
“Nothing better than getting to work up a sweat, and washing it all off with a dip in the lake. And every day, I get to see the work I’ve done. Planks sanded, walls painted, a new patio built—couldn’t ask for a better life.”
And do you have a girlfriend to share it with? Almost, she’d asked it out loud. She barely caught herself in time.
He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring; it was the first thing she'd noticed when he’d sat down next to her in the car.
Shit. I can’t ask that. He just found me unconscious in a forest. Also, he believes in werewolves...
Her belly seemed to tie itself into another knot of want when she realized that the scent of wood and sun-warmed grass surrounding her was Darrell’s scent. Was it his hair that had caught the scent of the forest? Or was it his skin that smelled so irresistibly good?
I can’t just sniff him, she thought with some hysteria. That’s worse than outright asking if he’s single! What the hell is wrong with me today?
“I know something that would make your life better,” Chris now said, humor in his voice. “What you need is a family—nothing better than getting to sand down your own patio, and paint your own walls.”
Well, I guess that answers that question, Carrie thought faintly.
Darrell turned his head towards her again. Was she imagining it, or were his eyes gleaming at her? He wasn’t flirting, was he?
“It’s true—I’ve always thought that I’m great at being the fun uncle, but might not be so good as dad. I think I’ve changed my mind, though. I think I’d be a good dad...”
His voice was low and intimate, and he was looking straight at her.
Oh my God, Carrie thought again, feeling dizzy.
For some reason, it felt like the sexiest thing anyone had ever said to her. Especially because he was still looking at her from those gorgeous brown eyes, which had now turned utterly earnest. There was something vulnerable and very sweet about the way he looked at her. As if he wasn’t flirting at all.
But he can’t really mean that—can he? I’ve never met a guy looking like him who’d happily settle down with a baby...
They’d made it back to the town before Carrie had to come up with an answer.
Linden Creek was a beautiful town with tree-lined streets, surrounded by hills and forests. The rainstorm had finally moved off, and now the sun was shining brightly from a blue sky once more.
Carrie still couldn't remember anything, and so she was released from the sheriff’s care half an hour later, after he’d taken all of her details, and what little she remembered about the accident.
“Don’t worry,” Darrell told her as soon as they’d made it outside again. “He’s got people looking at the tracks. Whatever happened out there, the other driver ran off straight away. And he wouldn’t have done that unless he was at fault.”
Carrie nodded slowly, still feeling unsettled. She’d feel better if she could just remember...
But she’d had a tearful call with her best friend back home from the sheriff’s office, and texted her co-workers. Her boss hadn’t answered his phone, but right now Carrie was more than happy to let the police handle that.
All she wanted now was to lie down—and maybe have some food. Darrell had helpfully gone for a sandwich while Chris questioned her, but she was already hungry again. But then, she hadn’t had anything to eat since yesterday’s lunch in her car...
“We’ve got a room for you, right here in the town,” Darrell said. “Don’t worry about the cabin for now. It’s still yours, of course, but I figured you might want some company for now—and some food.” He flashed her a grin. “You’ll like this place, I promise.”
The room was, in fact, better than anything Carrie could have imagined. It was large and filled with sunlight falling in through curtains patterned with flowers. Outside her window, there was a walled garden filled with apple trees. And her hostess had an apple pie waiting for them—as well as what was apparently her famous mac and cheese.
“I always keep some in the fridge,” the owner of the small bed and breakfast, a cheerful woman called Angela, told them. “Everyone’s out now, but there’s always a kid or two that gets hungry in the evening, or a family that com
es home late and wet from a hike, and I just like to be prepared. Now you just tell me if you’d like some more, and I can make you a couple of sandwiches to take up to your room, and if you'd like coffee, I’ve got brownies I made just this morning—”
Thank you,” Carrie said, staring overwhelmed at the truly immense plate of mac and cheese in front of her. “I think this’ll be more than enough.”
She was ravenous, and the food smelled amazing—but even so, she doubted that she could finish even half of it.
Angela gently touched her shoulder. “You just eat and then go and have a nap, dear. I promise, everything’s going to look better after a nap.”
“Thank you,” Carrie said again, giving her hostess a grateful look.
The mac and cheese tasted even better than it smelled, even though that should’ve been impossible. Together with the old-fashioned wallpaper and the little bits and pieces that decorated the cozy dining room, it suddenly brought back memories of holiday mornings spent in the kitchen of their neighbor. She’d been an elderly lady always fostering at least five different cats, who’d had a smile and a cookie for her every time Carrie came to visit.
Carrie’d never grown very close to her foster family, but those quiet hours in the kitchen of the gray-haired woman she only remembered as Auntie Jenn were among her happiest memories.
“You look better,” Darrell said quietly, after Carrie had managed to put away the entire heap of deliciously cheesy pasta.
Carrie took a deep breath. She felt better, too. She still couldn’t remember much about the accident or what happened after, but it felt like at last, the world had returned to normalcy.
“I feel better,” she said. “I really do. The food helped. And your company, too—thanks for sticking around.”
Darrell beamed at her, then cleared his throat. “I’m... going to stick around a little longer, if you don’t mind. What with that weird accident, the sheriff asked me to keep an eye on you.”
“Like... a bodyguard?” Carrie blinked.
She didn’t quite know how to feel about that. On the one hand, Darrell was stunning, and she had a hard time tearing her eyes away from that square jaw and the stubble that looked like it would be deliciously scratchy if she kissed him.