by BJ Wane
She frowned, her eyes turning wary as she cast a look around at their desolate surroundings. “I can if I have to, but it would be foolish to follow a stranger to a secluded cabin in the woods.”
“And it wasn’t foolish to drive in this weather in a vehicle ill-equipped to handle it without ending up like this?” he returned dryly. “I’m cold and the heavy shit will start up again any moment. I’ll give you two minutes to talk to the sheriff in Willow Springs and then I’m hauling ass back to my place, with or without you.” Digging his satellite phone out of the heavy coat pocket, he punched in Grayson Monroe’s direct number, praying he caught him in. When he answered, he gave his friend a quick rundown and then thrust the phone toward her, swearing as he noticed the blue tinge to her lips despite the heat blowing inside the still idling car and his position blocking the wind. “Make it fast.”
Chapter 2
Lillian worked at concentrating on the deep voice resonating through the satellite phone her reluctant rescuer handed her, but it continued to be his gruff but concerned tone bouncing around in her head. His stern, quiet insistence she would not get sick had irritated her since he couldn’t possibly expect the nauseous bile in her throat to subside simply because he insisted. Only it had, and that was just as annoying.
“You’ll be fine with Dr. Hoffstetter, a lot better off than where you’re at now. Go with him and I’ll get a tow truck out there as soon as possible.”
Great, I have no choice but to trust a cop and doctor. What were the freaking odds of that irony? Closing her eyes, Lillian fought to get herself under control. The sheriff clicked off, leaving her no doubt he expected her to believe him and that he was about as happy with her circumstances as the tall, rugged cowboy doctor staring down at her with impatience stamped on his face. She couldn’t see his eyes shielded by the lowered brim of his hat, but there was no mistaking his taut jaw. The salt and pepper goatee framing his mouth drew her eyes to the tight press of his lips.
Left with no choice, she handed him the phone and nodded. “I can make it to your cabin. Thank you.”
“I’ll grab your coat,” he replied, working the back door open. “Anything else will have to wait a few hours, or maybe until morning.”
Lillian picked up the bank bag, sucked in a deep breath and pushed to her feet, the throbbing tenderness of her ribs making itself known again. Holding out her hip-length, all-weather coat, the astute doctor asked, “He got you in the ribs also, didn’t he?”
“Yes, but I’m okay.” Shrugging on the coat, she zipped it up, feeling warmer already.
“Let’s hope so.” Closing the car door, he took her arm and steered her toward the trees. “Walk in my path. It’ll be easier for you.”
She did, keeping her eyes down and placing her feet in the deep prints left from his trek to the car. The woods offered a small break from the cold wind and they emerged a few minutes later into a clearing. She was so cold and miserable, not to mention aching from head to toe that not even a five-star hotel could look as inviting as the rustic cabin with smoke billowing from the chimney. The doctor’s calm silence, towering height and large frame offered a comfort she didn’t think she’d needed.
Ushering her inside, he shut the door just as the heavy snowfall returned with near whiteout intensity. “Sit down and let me look at your ribs.”
So much for the comfort she’d been experiencing. His brusque, no-nonsense manner rubbed her wrong – she’d had enough of bossy men in the past month to last her a lifetime. “I appreciate your rescue,” she forced herself to say in a neutral tone, “but as I’ve said, I’m fine.”
Turning from her, he hung his coat and hat on hooks by the door, peeled off his gloves and tossed them on the table and then faced her again with his fists going to his lean hips. At five-eight, Lillian had never considered herself short, but she’d never had to crane her head back to look so far up at someone before. His thick hair matched his goatee in color, mostly silver with hints of black interspersed, and was worn long enough to curl around the collar of his dark green flannel shirt. She’d assumed his bulky coat accounted for the breadth of his shoulders, but she was wrong. His height made him appear on the lean side, but there was no mistaking the ripped, bulging muscles in his thighs as he stepped in front of her or along his hair-sprinkled forearms as he shoved up his sleeves to just below his elbows.
Cupping her chin in his warm palm, she wasn’t prepared for the jolt his tightened hold gave her. “Have you been checked out by a medical professional?”
No, I just ran from the painful heartbreak. Lillian realized the physical distance she had put between her and Salt Lake City did nothing to help her escape from the agonizing sorrow of Liana’s passing followed by the harrowing distress of Brad’s possessive temper. His point-blank question left her no room for evasion, and she wouldn’t lie. All she wanted from him right now was a few moments to lie down and gather her thoughts.
“No, I haven’t had time, but…”
“Then sit down and lift your sweater so I can check you over. Sheriff Monroe told you I’m a doctor.” Before she could blink, he divested her of her coat and pressed her shoulders until she landed on the edge of the double bed, the only piece of furniture in the miniscule cabin other than the small table, two chairs and a recliner facing the fireplace. “I’m Mitchell Hoffstetter. What’s your name?”
“Lillian, and this isn’t necessary. I’m breathing fine.” Maybe a little heavier than usual, she puzzled over as he reached for the hem of her sweater and her breathing sped up. She must be more tired than she thought if she could get flustered by this polite, but not so welcoming stranger.
Ignoring her, he remained every inch the professional as he pushed her sweater above her chest and picked up her right hand to place on the bunched-up top. “Hold it up while I unwrap you. Did you do this, or did someone help you?”
I don’t have anyone anymore. She bit her lip to stop tears from forming in her eyes and gave up the ridiculous battle of trying to keep his hands off her that was costing her too much energy. “I did, yesterday.”
Mitchell tossed aside the tape and swore as he saw the purple bruising that hurt her so much. His touch was gentle as he palpated her ribs but the discomfort was enough to elicit a gasp of pain. “Sorry, pet,” he murmured, the low-voiced, distracted comment grating on her nerves.
“I’m not a damn dog,” Lillian returned, shifting away from his probing fingers.
Looking down at her, he cocked his head and stepped back, his intent gaze drawing a shiver that had nothing to do with being chilled. “Do you have a dislike of nicknames?”
“No, just of the men who use them,” she retorted.
“So you prefer women, but it wasn’t a woman who knocked you around.”
Exasperated, she blew out a breath and yanked her sweater down. “I didn’t before, but I just might learn to swing that way. Are you done poking at me?”
Mitchell’s amused grin reached his eyes. “Yes, and I didn’t feel a fracture. You’ll heal better without wrapping but you can ice them while I heat up something for dinner. When was the last time you ate?”
“Earlier today.” Lillian didn’t mention she’d only eaten a candy bar.
He turned to rummage through a cupboard above the sink. The apartment sized refrigerator with an upper freezer and stove along the wall was the extent of the kitchen. “I see I’m going to have to make sure my questions are specific. What have you eaten since this incident occurred?” He extracted a tube of antibiotic ointment and padded back over to the bed, his probing gaze once again on her face.
“Are you this bossy with all your patients? If so, I can’t imagine too many of them come back for a second appointment.” His interrogation might stem from professional concern but coming on the heels of getting free of Brad’s abusive hold on her, the constant questions grated on her already strung tight nerves.
“I don’t care about signing you on as a new patient, only about not being forced to get an
air ambulance out here in the next twenty-four hours. Hold still while I apply this ointment to your cuts.”
Well, that certainly put me in my place. Guilt slid through her; she’d never thought of that. She held her breath as he rubbed the medicine onto the cut by her eye and then on her lip, his touch light but enough to warm her, or maybe she was just feverish from her injuries and exhaustion. Yes, that must be it because there was no way she was attracted to him, despite his rugged good looks and a body any red-blooded woman would drool over.
He stepped back and she stood, a sudden, room-spinning swirl of dizziness assailing her, forcing her to grab Mitchell’s shoulders. She closed her eyes against the sharp concern in his gaze as he gripped her hips and eased her back down onto the bed.
“Again, what have you eaten today?” he demanded. “Or, do you have other injuries I can’t see?”
Sighing, she opened her eyes to his face hovering right above hers, his warm breath wafting across her lips. She wondered if he included some of that bossiness in his kisses and then questioned what the heck was wrong with her to have such a thought pop into her fuzzy head. “A candy bar,” she admitted, leaving out her bruised hip and leaning back to restore her bearings.
“Figures. Stay still while I heat something up.”
Mitchell kept his annoyance under wraps as he turned on the propane fired stove and retrieved the packaged chicken breasts from the refrigerator. So much for enjoying a peaceful few days in front of the fire, away from the demands of his job and the well-meaning but nosy friends he’d made since answering the ad for a family doctor in the small town of Willow Springs. At the time, he’d thought the much slower pace would suit him, that trading the big, noisy city for a quiet, rural environment would soothe his heartbreak faster. He didn’t have the day to day memories haunting him here like in Denver where he saw Abbie’s face in every room of their home, heard her engaging laugh every time he ate at a restaurant they had frequented and pictured her writhing, glistening bare body at the BDSM club where they’d met.
But it hadn’t taken him long to discover he couldn’t flee the pain of losing her. Abbie’s sweet, biddable nature had drawn on his dominant urges and when she had submitted to him the first night they’d met, there’d been no looking back, or elsewhere for either of them. Eight years hadn’t been enough time with her, and too often he found himself resenting her for leaving him, followed by a stab of guilt from that emotional buffer.
Was it too much to ask for these few days alone so he could wallow in self-pity and rage at fate for the last two years of loneliness and sorrow?
The single overhead bulb flickered and then went out, plunging the cabin into semi-darkness, the gray cast from the one window and amber/yellow glow of burning embers in the fireplace the only sources shedding any light. Lillian didn’t say anything, which prompted him to look around and check on her. Slumped over on the bed, she lay sound asleep, her slim legs still dangling over the side, her upper body twisted at an uncomfortable angle. Grateful for the few minutes reprieve, he slid the pan off the burner, the generator kicking in as he shrugged his coat and gloves back on. At least he had stacked enough wood by the door to last a while before her presence had interrupted him.
Thirty minutes later, wood sat piled next to the fireplace and Mitchell was setting the fried chicken and a bowl of corn on the table when his guest roused. He watched her stretch and then wince as she arched back too far. Her grimace was enough to set aside the fleeting appreciation of eyeing her movements that pushed her breasts upward and shifted those long, slender legs apart. The woman looked good in snug denim.
Mitchell shoved that observance to the back of his mind in favor of getting a hot meal down her. “I would ask how long you’ve gone without sleep, but I won’t bother. Come eat something.”
Lillian sat up and scrubbed her hands over her face, mumbling, “I’m not hungry.”
“You’re irritating me, pet.” She glared at him, her eyes flashing. Why he enjoyed riling her with the nickname, he didn’t know, and he didn’t care for the way her censuring look stirred his cock.
“And you’re irritating me with your nagging, but we’re stuck with each other for now, aren’t we?” Lifting her hands, she tunneled long fingers through her hair, pushing the thick, dark red tangled mass back, offering him an unobstructed view of her pale face.
“We are.” He pointed to a chair. “Come on. You need protein, and then I’ll put an ice pack on your ribs.”
She shuddered, standing up. Plopping into the chair, she cast him a derisive look. “I have enough reminders of why I have sworn off men. You don’t need to add to them.”
Mitchell took the vacant seat across the small table from her, stabbed a plump chicken breast and reached over to dump it on her plate. “Not all men are like the one who gave you those bruises, but I’m fine with you including me in the group you’ve sworn off of.”
Frowning, Lillian picked up the fork and knife and cut into the chicken, ignoring him as he scooped corn onto her plate before seeing to his own servings. The fire crackled as the wind rattled the window and door, picking up speed while they ate in silence. Mitchell liked she didn’t feel the need to chit chat, but the longer he surveyed her black eye, bruised cheek and cut lip, the more his curiosity and ire increased until he couldn’t hold back from getting answers.
“Tell me why you didn’t seek medical attention instead of driving into a forecasted snowstorm.”
Lillian swallowed, looking up at him with a smooth expression. “Because I’m an idiot?”
He shrugged. The girl had grit, he’d give her that. “I don’t know enough to answer that. Enlighten me.” Instead, she shoveled in a forkful of corn, her slim brows dipping in a frown he found as cute as the freckles sprinkled across her slim, straight nose.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” she asked, tilting her head so her hair swept over her shoulder and upper arm.
“I find you attractive even if your intrusion on my privacy doesn’t sit well with me. The least you can do for your imposition is tell me why you ended up stranded in the middle of the state.” He could tell she didn’t know how to take his blunt honesty.
Her gaze flickered out the window as the wind howled and the snow changed to ice pellets pinging against the glass. “Aren’t you worried about the weather?” Lillian swung her eyes back to him. “For that matter, why are you out in the middle of nowhere in this kind of weather?”
“No, to your first question. The cabin may look rustic, but it’s sound, the generator will hold up, I have enough firewood and food to last a week and friends who know where I am and a way to contact them if I need help. I grew up in Denver and spent a lot of time at my cabin in the mountains, so I’m used to making do during rougher weather. Why do you keep answering my questions with a question?” Mitchell grabbed another piece of chicken and held it up, offering it to her first. She shook her head and he didn’t push it since she’d polished off a whole breast and was finishing the corn.
Reaching for the glass of water he’d poured for her, she took a long drink before saying, “I just spent a month unable to go anywhere, answer a call or get on the computer without a guy interrogating me. Excuse me if I’m not inclined to go down that path again.”
Mitchell drilled her with a pointed look. “The same guy who took his fist to you?”
A rueful grin lifted her mouth. “Try a hefty, backhanded swing, and yes, same asshole.”
He already knew the answer but asked anyway. “It wasn’t the first time, was it?”
Lillian blew out a breath, her hand tightening on her napkin as she picked it up. “No, but it’s not what you’re thinking. I didn’t stay out of some misplaced denial or because I believed he didn’t mean to hurt me. And it’s none of your business so that’s all I’m saying about it.”
There was more, the reason she put up with the man until recently was portrayed in her bleak expression and sorrow-filled eyes. But she was right, he didn’t nee
d to know the specifics to offer her a safe place to stay until the weather let up. He didn’t have to like it, but there was no sense in bemoaning what couldn’t be changed.
Noticing her long blinks, he stood and picked up their empty plates. “Good enough. If you’re done, I’ll give you a shirt to sleep in and an ice pack for your ribs.” When she didn’t argue he realized her fatigue went bone-deep. More answers would have to wait until morning.
“How can I sleep with a cold icepack? I’m already chilled.” Lillian pushed back from the table and rose, reaching for the shirt Mitchell handed her.
“I’ll time it for ten minutes. That will have to do until morning. The cold would have been more effective within hours of your injury, so you’ll only get minimal relief using it now.” He nodded toward the only other room in the cabin. “The bathroom is over there but there’s not a lot of hot water stored, so go easy please. And don’t linger while I get the icepack wrapped in a towel or it will melt and won’t be any good to you.”
“I’m too tired to do anything except wash my face and change. If we’re sharing the bed, fair warning – I’m used to sleeping alone and having the covers to myself.”
Mitchell watched her flounce into the bathroom and shut the door, admiring her gumption and easy acceptance of the limited sleeping space. When confronted with sharing a bed with a stranger, most women would balk and at least try to argue for an alternative. He might find her physically attractive and her tart personality cute for now, but he had the control both age and being an experienced Dom afforded him. That control, along with his morose mood meant she was perfectly safe from fending off any sexual passes. In another time, maybe another place, he might not be averse to stripping her out of those jeans and demonstrating where her attitude could land her or the difference between harmful abusive pain and erotic torment.