"Carmichael." He cupped his hands around his mouth and called the dog again. "Carmichael! Time to head home."
Trey frowned, not worried, but puzzled. Carmichael wasn't the type to wander too far away. When a sharp bark reached his ears, he expected to see a mass of black appear through the white. Instead, another bark followed, then another. But the dog didn't follow.
Something was wrong.
"Carmichael? Tell me where you are, buddy."
When the next bark sounded, Trey cocked his head to the side as he tried to gauge what direction to go. Left, he determined and took off at a run. Luckily, he didn't have far to go. He found Carmichael at the bottom of a small gorge.
"What's the problem?" he asked, sliding down the slope.
Carmichael whined a greeting, his big body quivering as he pawed at something on the ground. The snow had turned the object into little more than a white blob. Moving closer, Trey expected to find a half-eaten animal carcass. Instead, his eyes were drawn to something red. Blood? No. Hair. Masses of wet, curly hair.
With a burst of adrenaline, Trey ran the last few feet before he fell to his knees. An animal, but not the forest variety. Definitely human. A woman. Please, he said a silent prayer. Don't let me be too late.
Trey grabbed the end of his glove between his teeth and freed his hand. Pushing away the snow from her neck, he felt for a pulse. Carmichael whined again as he leaned close enough to lick the woman's face.
Her skin felt like ice under his questing fingers. Trey held his breath, found the proper spot, and waited. The beat was faint but unmistakable.
"Good boy," Trey praised Carmichael as he lifted the woman into his arms.
Dark eyes seemed to ask a question Trey couldn't answer. He refused to make promises he couldn't keep.
"You did your job. Next part's up to me. I'll do my best to pull her through," he said, retracing his steps up the hill and toward the cabin.
Grim and determined, Trey kept his head down and his legs moving. Briefly, he allowed himself a glimpse at the woman's face. He knew her heart still beat in her chest, he'd felt the flutter beneath his fingers. Pale and barely breathing, she had the appearance of a porcelain doll, beautiful but lifeless.
You won't die on me. Understand?
As if drawn by the sheer force of Trey's thoughts, her eyelids fluttered, opened for a split second, then fell shut. But the moment was long enough for him to see the silvery blue of her irises, to sense her will to live. And, long enough for him to feel an inexplicable connection.
Stay with me, he pleaded without words. Stay with me.
~~~~
DREAMS WERE FUNNY things, Olivia's foggy brain decided. Every part of her felt encased in ice. Yet, somehow, the side of her face was warm. Wet and warm.
With all her might, she tried to open her eyes, pushed toward consciousness, but her lids, heavy and uncooperative, remained closed.
As she began to slip back into oblivion, Olivia wanted to cry, but again, the effort was too much. No one should die alone, but they did, all the time. What made her so special? Nothing. For twenty-five years, she lived a small, insignificant existence. Now, after one stupid mistake, she would never have the chance to do more with her life.
Born to be forgotten, exactly as her aunt always said. The words hurt. More important, they made her mad. Anger equaled heat, and heat equaled energy. Never inclined to fight if she could find a peaceful solution, for the second time in the day, she decided if ever there was a time to come out swinging, now was it.
Olivia narrowed her focus away from the cold and toward a solution. Suddenly, she sensed she wasn't alone. Someone—or something—was near, helping, urging her on. Breathing? Yes, the sound was unmistakable. As was the feel of strong arms curving under her legs and around her body.
Was she headed toward heaven, Olivia wondered as the sensation of floating through the air engulfed her. Nice to think she might be headed up instead of down—someday. Today, she wasn't ready.
You won't die on me. Understand?
Though she was certain the words weren't spoken aloud, Olivia heard each syllable clear as a bell.
Open your eyes. Open your eyes, open your eyes, open your eyes. Again, and again, she urged herself on. Open your freaking eyes!
The movement was small, something she did hundreds of times each day without a second thought. Yet the simple act of raising her lids took more strength than she would have believed she possessed.
A burst of pride powered through Olivia's body as she peered at the face of the most handsome man she'd ever seen. Or was he an angel? Did angels have the smile of a devil? Her eyes fell shut before she could decide. An instant later, the world returned to black. But somehow, she knew she wouldn't die.
Not today. Not while she rested in the arms of her dark-eyed savior.
CHAPTER TWO
~~~~
THE WOMAN HADN'T stirred since they entered the cabin.
As he removed her wet clothing with the clinical neutrality of a doctor, Trey refused to worry. Carefully, he checked for injuries. Other than the gash above her right ear, he found nothing alarming.
Head wounds could be deadly, a fact he tried not to think about as he wrapped her in layers starting with a pair of his thickest flannel long underwear and two pairs of socks. Carefully, Trey tucked her long, curly hair into a brightly colored knit hat—a handmade gift from the mother of his heart, Minerva Stanton. Next, he wrapped her in an electric blanket turned on high and finally, a down patchwork quilt.
Depositing her onto the sofa, Trey moved to the pile of wood he carried in earlier in the day and stoked the already blazing fire. With a sigh, he rolled his head in a slow circle and let himself breathe for the first time since he had found her.
Carmichael, as though aware their guest wasn't in any condition to play, curled into a ball, ready if he was needed for protection or comfort.
"You're as worried about her as I am, aren't you, boy?"
The look in the dog's eyes told Trey all he needed to know. Carmichael found her. Naturally, she was now his.
Trey's cell phone was useless. Luckily, he had back-up communication in the form of a citizen's band radio. Old school, but effective, he turned on the receiver.
"Corinne? This is Trey. Come in, Corinne."
"Trey." The voice held a bit of a Texas accent. "Enjoying the snow?"
"Normally, yes. Unfortunately, while Carmichael and I were out for a walk, we found an injured woman. Head wound."
Corinne Tyler was the local veterinarian. Sixty years old, tough as shoe leather—her words—and as happy with her own company as Trey, she lived a mere five miles down the road. They made perfect neighbors. Under different circumstances, he would ask Corinne to examine the woman. The snow made the roads impassable and the task impossible.
"A stranger?"
"I've never seen her before," Trey said with conviction. He glanced at the beautiful redhead. If they'd met, even briefly, he would remember.
"Can't imagine what she was doing out in a blizzard. I know," Corinne continued before Trey could comment. "The why doesn't matter. Is she unconscious?"
"Yes. Her eyes opened for a second, but nothing since."
"Steady pulse?"
Trey checked again. Better. Stronger.
"I'm worried she has a concussion."
"Did you check her pupils? Are they dilated?"
"Hold on a second."
Comfortable with the basics of emergency medicine, Trey knew what to look for. He took a penlight from the toolkit kept near the back door. Gently, he opened one of the woman's eyelids.
"Pupils look normal and reactive."
"Good. Any other injuries?"
"None I can see." Trey touched her forehead. No fever. He breathed a sigh of relief as his hand lingered on her soft, pale skin. Reminding himself of the situation, he stood and moved away. "What should I do now?"
"Humans aren't my spe
cialty." Corinne paused. "My advice? Don't want to take any chances. I suggest you try to wake her up. Nothing jarring. Do you have some ammonia?"
Trey smiled. He was never a Boy Scout, but he believed in their motto. Always prepared, his storeroom was filled to the brim with everything from medicine to cleaning supplies and everything in between.
"I might have a bottle or two."
Aware of Trey's cache, Corinne chuckled before she gave a step-by-step explanation of what he needed to do.
"Once she's awake, don't let her sleep longer than sixty minutes at a time for the next forty-eight hours."
"Right." Trey swallowed hard. "Corinne?"
"Yes?"
"What if she doesn't wake up?"
"Pray the weather forecast is wrong and the snow stops before the end of the week. Then, pray for her. If you need me, call. I'll be here. My lady and I are snuggled in for the duration."
"Give Heather my best."
Trey signed off. He gave the unconscious woman another glance before he headed for the storeroom. Corinne's grim tone hadn't helped his peace of mind. He steeled himself against the creeping feeling of helplessness. Until he turned eighteen, the idea that he had the power to avert the course of destiny was a foreign concept. As a teenager, his self-esteem fell so low, he couldn't see any way out except to end his life.
Luck, and his best friend and roommate, Liam Stanton, were on Trey's side that dark day. Ever since, armed with a second chance, he refused to give into despair. He would use everything at his disposal to save the woman's life. And if conventional means failed, he'd pull her back by the sheer force of his will.
What was her name? Why was she out in the storm? Was she in trouble? Could he help? Anything she needed, anything, was hers for the asking.
Whoa! Trey shook his head, halting his wayward thoughts as he took the needed items from the storeroom shelf. Beyond her immediate health, the woman wasn't his concern. Her business was none of his. If she wanted to confide in him, he'd listen. Otherwise, he wouldn't pry.
And tomorrow morning, the sun will come up in the east. Trey chuckled. He tried to be honest with himself and everyone around him whenever possible. In a frighteningly short period of time, the redheaded beauty on his sofa had become important to him. Yes, chances were better than good she would recover and once the storm abated, be on her way. back to her friends and family, far away from his little section of the world.
The woman would forget him. Would he forget her? Crazy, Trey knew, but something told him the answer was no.
"You spend too much time alone." Trey set the supplies on the table next to the sofa. "Too much time talking to yourself—or your dog."
Trey needed a companion of the female variety. Someone regular. A steady relationship, not just a weekend fling.
While the selection of eligible local women wasn't endless, Trey knew the neighboring towns held several options worth considering. In fact, one or two young ladies had let him know they were interested. Until now, he wasn't.
Come spring, Trey promised himself, instead of the status quo, he'd make an effort to find out if he was ready for something long term.
Taking a cloth, Trey reached for the bottle of ammonia. Before he could remove the lid, the woman let out a quiet but unmistakable moan. He waited, hoping, as her eyes fluttered, once, twice, and finally opened.
Gently, afraid to hurt her or frighten her with a sudden movement, he sat on the edge of the sofa. She blinked, the silver blue of her irises clouded with confusion.
A whisper came from her lips. Too low for Trey to hear, he leaned closer.
"Angel?"
"Me?" Trey grinned, part humor, part relief. "Honey, you have the wrong man."
"Devil?"
If her calm expression were any indication, the idea didn't seem to worry her. Even so, Trey felt compelled to alleviate any misunderstanding.
"Can't lay claim to either," he assured her as he brushed one long, curling piece of hair from her cheek. "Trust me, my feet are planted firmly here on earth."
"Good." Her lips formed a slow smile, and the effect made Trey's heart do a slow roll. "Kiss me."
Perhaps she was the devil, he mused because, despite a million and one reasons to say no, he sure as hell was tempted.
"Not a good idea. Your head—"
Her mouth covered his, effectively breaking off his logical protest. Trey groaned, and for a second, let need outweigh common sense. She tasted faintly of peppermint and a lot like the sweetest bit of heaven. He wanted more—more than she was in any condition to give or agree to.
Standing, Trey gazed down at her face. Eyes closed, mouth parted, her tongue slowly traced her lower lip. Damn, he grumbled, closing his eyes. He considered himself a moral man who would never take advantage of someone in her condition.
For the first time in his life, Trey discovered temptation could be a royal bitch.
"Who are you?" she asked with a bewildered frown.
Her eyes narrowed as if seeing him for the first time. Had she forgotten the kiss already? Worry replaced desire in a heartbeat. Crouching until they were face to face, Trey gave her a hard, searching look.
"My name is Trey Stanton. Can you tell me your name?"
"Of course. I'm…" Panic flitted across her expressive face as she searched for the answer. "Olivia," she sighed with relief. "Olivia Shore."
"Nice to meet you, Olivia Shore." A cold, wet nose butted against Trey's cheek. "And this is Carmichael."
Some of the tension left Olivia's shoulders. Funny, Trey thought, hiding his smile. People seemed to think a man with a dog was for some reason trustworthy. Since he knew he would never hurt a hair on her head, he didn't see any reason to correct the myth.
Carmichael, never one to stand on formality, pushed Trey aside and lay his head on Olivia's hip. His big, brown eyes begged for her to scratch behind his ear. Like most people, she didn't hesitate to do his bidding.
"Would you like a cup of tea?"
"Yes." Her voice was low and slightly husky. "Please."
Questions could wait, Trey decided as he left the woman and dog to get acquainted. He'd give Olivia a few minutes to acclimate before he asked for the whys and wherefores.
"Oh, no." Eyes wide as saucers, Olivia's hands flew to her reddening cheeks.
"What?" Trey rushed to her side. "Are you in pain? I can get you a couple aspirin, but nothing stronger without a doctor's recommendation."
"I kissed you!" Olivia pulled the quilt over her head and groaned. "A complete stranger. How embarrassing."
Trey tried to uncover her face, but she held onto the blanket for dear life. Chuckling, he returned to the kitchen. Glancing over his shoulder as he filled the electric kettle, he met Carmichael's puzzled gaze and shrugged.
Women. Neither he nor the dog had a lot of experience in the subtleties of the sex. Trey grew up an only child. After the Stanton family took him in, he acquired five brothers. Though he was recently adopted—so to speak—by the four spectacular Benedict sisters, their time together hadn't clued him into how the female brain worked.
Taking two mugs from the cupboard, Trey's smile widened. He wasn't worried about Olivia's reaction. He liked that she didn't take something as intimate as a kiss for granted. No one had the right to push their desires onto someone else. Since he was a very willing participant—a fact he would share if the subject came up—she had no reason to be embarrassed.
"My clothes," Olivia squeaked from under the blanket. "What happened?"
"You were soaked to the skin and near hypothermia."
"Did you…? Oh, boy."
Even muffled, Trey could easily make out Olivia's groan of distress. He set her cup on the glass-topped coffee table before he sat in the chair opposite the sofa.
"Would you like me to apologize?"
"What?" Olivia peeked from the false security of her cocoon, her blue eyes filled with distress. "Apologize for saving my life? Yo
u're my savior. My hero. I'll never be able to thank you enough. I'm just embarrassed. You saw me naked. Yikes! On top of the kiss I forced on you, I've been a royal pain in your backside."
"Hardly," Trey said, shaking his head. "When I found you in the snow—"
"So stupid." She let the blanket fall, giving Trey an unencumbered view of her face. Her cheeks were suffused with color—bright red. "Because of me, you had to lug me all the way to your cabin? I'm hardly a lightweight. Is your back okay?"
Fascinated by the quick twists and turns of Olivia's mind, Trey almost laughed at her absurd observations. Worried she might die, he hadn't given her weight a second thought. Now that he stopped to think, he could honestly say, even with her water-laden clothing, he could have easily carried her another mile or two without breaking a sweat.
Obviously, Olivia was more distressed by the imagined trouble she had caused him than the idea of how close she came to death. Perhaps the truth hadn't sunk in. Rather than remind her, Trey chose a lighthearted approach.
"Carmichael was thrilled to find you. Someone new to play with." He chuckled when the dog woofed in agreement. "See? We don't get many visitors, especially this time of year."
"You're very kind." To Trey's relief, Olivia almost smiled. To his horror, her lips began to quiver as her eyes filled with tears. "You must think I'm the world's biggest fool." She hiccupped. "I'm not the kind of person who walks unprepared into a blizzard. Anyone who knows me will vouch for the fact that I don't go to the drugstore without a plan."
A typical man, Trey was at a loss when faced with a woman's tears. Awkwardly, he dropped to his knees, patting her back.
"Don't upset yourself."
"Why are you so nice to me?" Olivia wailed.
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"Because I'm… useless. Smart, but useless."
Though Olivia made little sense, Trey thought he understood what she meant. Intellect didn't always transfer to real life. He used to live in his head, afraid of the world outside his logical brain.
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