by Sophia Gray
Damnit. My battery was dying, the electricity in this cabin was out, there wasn’t a charger in my car even if I could get it started, and on top of it all I didn’t even get a damn signal!
“Can things get any worse?” I wondered aloud.
I glanced at the man on the couch. He was still sleeping soundly. Thankfully, whatever dreams had been wracking him seemed to have stopped and he was now calmly and peacefully sleeping. Or at least that was how it seemed from the outside.
Deciding that I needed to check and see what was really going on outside, I first went to the large window from the front room. I pulled back the impromptu curtain I’d put up from the night before to see if I could assess the damage. Just from looking through the window, I could tell it wasn’t good. The snow was at the windowsill, meaning it was at least up to my knees and probably closer to my waist in all actuality. Which meant my car was probably buried up to the damn roof. Which meant I’d have to try to dig it out if we were going to leave today.
And what’s the point of that? I silently asked myself.
Assuming I could somehow dig out my car, which I doubted unless I could find a snow shovel around here somewhere, then I’d have to try to start the damn thing. Which I didn’t have a lot of faith in considering the block of the motor was probably frozen solid. I knew I should have braved the storm last night and tried to find something to wrap it up in.
But even if I could uncover the car, and even if the motor wasn’t frozen, and even if it ran just fine—which it didn’t do before the storm, much less after—there was still the matter of the roads being blanketed. The main roads, the highways and such, might be okay. They had likely spread enough salt out that the roads would be slick and probably icy, but not covered in several feet of snow. But the ones that led in and out of this little area of unused cabins? It didn’t look like there was enough traffic to justify it, which meant I’d have to clear those roads, too.
Not a very appealing prospect.
Even less appealing if I couldn’t find a damn shovel.
And if all of that wasn’t worrisome enough, there was the fact that the sky was still gray and overcast. What little sunlight was peeking through was still gray and I didn’t think that would change. Worse still, snow was still drifting down from those clouds. Meaning the storm hadn’t fully passed—or another one had come in to take its place.
“Which means more snow,” I whispered.
Deciding that if I was going to make an attempt at digging out my car—or getting anything out of it—I’d have to do it now, before the next blizzard decided to wrap us up like a cocoon in this little cabin for the next day or so.
I bundled up as best I could, made sure the fire was going strong, and briefly checked on the man sleeping on the couch before heading out into the snow. I was right: it was up to my hips. Moving through it was harder than it looked, and it didn’t exactly look easy.
When I first stepped outside, I looked around at the area and noted two things. The trees were noticeable only because their trunks weren’t holding snow like their limbs. And everything looked the same.
I stood on the porch, which was covered mostly by a snowdrift where the storm had pressed it in despite the overhang. I turned around in a circle until I came back to the front and noted that I couldn’t tell anything apart. If I got lost out there…well, I didn’t think I’d come back. I wished I had a compass or something, but it was back home in my emergency pack—which I ironically hadn’t brought with me.
I won’t need it for a quick trip to my parents, I had thought. Now I could kick myself for my own stupidity.
“I’ll just have to mark it,” I told the air. Thankfully, the snow was falling straight down instead of from the side. It meant the wind was down, which helped a lot with the cold. It was still frigid outside of course but at least it wasn’t biting. Pulling my coat tighter around me, I dipped back inside to find something that I could use as my proverbial bread crumbs to lead me back to the cabin.
I went to the kitchen first and looked around, but couldn’t find anything useful. Cutlery, the canned food I’d found the night before, some pots and pans and plates. Nothing that would work well for marking the path. I thought about just going out there and finding my car, then using my earlier footprints to lead me back, but that seemed like a really foolish idea. If I only took a minute or two, it would probably be fine, but if I ended up taking a while, then I’d be in trouble. The snow was still falling, meaning that my tracks could fill up before I had time to follow them back to the cabin.
You’re probably just being overly cautious, I thought to myself as I checked the last couple of cabinets in the kitchen. Still nothing.
I told myself that if I found nothing, I’d still be fine. The tracks would be deep since the snow was too deep and surely they would take a long time to fill up. But I was still nervous, so I moved from the kitchen to down the hall.
I hadn’t gone further than the hall because I’d found a closet with what I had been looking for. Spare blankets, quilts, and even a couple of pillows. Just past that was the bathroom, and after that I wasn’t really concerned with what was in the rest of the house. But now that I was on a mission, I acknowledged that looking back there was probably a good idea.
Starting with the linen closet again, I dug through it in search of something useful. Towels, pillow cases, some sheets. I paused on the sheets. If I had to, I could tie them together and use them to mark my path, but I didn’t really like that too much. I’d need a lot of sheets, and they were white to boot, meaning they’d be really hard to see in the snow. Still, I set them aside just in case.
Moving along, I made my way to the back room. It was a bedroom, as expected, and was actually pretty nice. It seemed a little dusty or at least had that feeling of disuse. Like this room needed to be aired out before guests stayed here or anything like that.
It was decorated like the rest of the cabin, with that rustic charm tourists were always expecting from little cabin getaways like this. There was a single king-sized bed pushed against one wall with a bedside table on either side of it. It was made neatly with several embroidered throw pillows that half matched the quilted blanket laid over the top of the mattress, colored in that red plaid that always reminded me of lumberjacks. The tables looked like they might have been handcrafted—or prepressed to look that way. There was a chest of drawers and a vanity across from the bed against the other wall. The mirror was ornate if a little small and the drawers beneath it were long with tarnished brass handles. There was one window at the very back of the room, wide so there was a nice view of the trees in the back, and on the opposite wall right next to the doorway where I stood was a closet.
I briefly looked around, moving pillows and blankets and checking in drawers for something I could use before moving to look inside the closet. There were several shelves and space to hang clothes. I was about to close the door and accept that I was just going to have to risk going without anything when I noticed that in the bottom of the closet on the floor was a basket. It was woven and looked like it was either a Christmas decoration or a prop for Little Red Riding Hood. I would have ignored it and been on my way if I hadn’t spotted some bright red yarn balled up and sitting prettily in the basket.
Yes! I thought triumphantly. That was exactly what I was looking for!
With my prize in hand, I abandoned that back room and headed back to the main room in the front. I checked on my sleeping friend once more; he still seemed the same, unconscious, but otherwise all right. Then I made sure the fire was going strong; it was. Satisfied, I braved the outside once more.
I closed the door tightly behind me, but made sure I had the key in my pocket, then I tied one end of my string to the porch. I began the trek back to my car. It seemed longer than I remembered, but maybe that was because I hadn’t been wading through snow up to my waist the night before. It took me a little bit, but I found my car and I was right. It was completely buried. The only reason I
found it was because of the antenna sticking out of the snow, the little ribbon I’d tied to it hanging limply at the tip of it.
“Damnit,” I cursed, my voice sounding much louder thanks to all of the snow.
I sighed. There was no way I was getting my car out of this I realized quickly. Still, I made my way to the car and tied my string to the antenna, the only part really visible. That way I would be able to find it easily again if I had to come back out.
Shaking my head a little at all of the bad luck I’d been having the last twenty-four hours, I headed back, following the red string I had tied between my car and the cabin.
When I got back to the cabin, I was freezing. I stomped my boots at the door to knock off some of the snow, but my pants were soaked and so was the hem of my sweater. I knew I had to change out of my wet clothes unless I wanted to get sick, but didn’t have a lot to change into. I eyed the man still lying on the couch.
I could strip and lay them over the fire to dry, I thought, weighing the wisdom of being more or less naked in front of him. He was asleep, but he could wake up whenever.
Or I could try to find something to wear back in that closet. I’d found some quilts and things before; maybe they had sweats or something, too.
Deciding that was definitely the right move to make, I slipped off my boots and my wet socks, then headed down the hall in search of dry clothes. As soon as I left that main living room, I was freezing all over again. Holding my jacket around me to try to hold onto some of the warmth, I went into the hall and dug through the linen closet. I found those sheets again and figured I could use them to wrap up in if I had to, but I was really hoping for real clothing. I took them along with me as I made my way into the bedroom.
I looked in that same closet, hoping that the knitting stuff also meant there might be some finished knitting projects. It was a long shot, but it paid off. I was pleased to see a stack of three neatly folded sweaters.
“Thank God,” I muttered, then snatched them all up.
I headed back to the room quickly and headed to the fireplace. I began to shuck off my clothing as quickly as possible and hung them over the gate around the fireplace in hopes that some of it would dry. With any luck, I wouldn’t be stuck in an oversized sweater when the guy woke up.
When I’d taken off everything—panties, shirt, bra—I slipped one of the sweaters on top of me and settled as close to the fireplace as I could get. I still felt chilled to my bones, but the fire was beginning to help me thaw. I had my hands held out to the fireplace when I heard the voice behind me.
“What…where are we?”
I nearly jumped out of my skin, my eyes going wide as I spun around to face the man who had been sleeping since we’d arrived last night. “Oh my God! You scared me half to death!”
I watched as he struggled to push himself up into a sitting position. He was clearly still sore and was probably feeling kind of weak still since he’d only taken a couple of bites of stew the night before, but otherwise he seemed like he was doing okay. I watched as the blanket fell from his chest, exposing the thin fabric of his t-shirt to my eyes. I didn’t mean to, but my gaze dipped to the plains of his chest, slipping over the hard muscles there.
Jerking my gaze back up to his face, hoping he hadn’t noticed my sudden distraction, I smiled at him. “You’re awake. You really had me worried there for a minute.”
When he managed to sit up completely, he took a moment to take in our surroundings—log cabin, covered windows, the couch, and finally the fire where I sat warming my hands in nothing but some oversized sweater that smelled like mothballs. I suddenly flushed, realizing I didn’t have pants.
So much for the dry before he wakes up thing, I thought, embarrassment washing through me.
His eyes lingered on me, not the fire, and seemed to smolder like the embers I’d found in the fireplace this morning. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, his expression an unreadable mask, but I noticed his full lips tug into the faintest of frowns. Did he not like what he saw?
Not that it matters, I reminded myself haughtily. He was a stranger. We were together only due to circumstance. It didn’t matter in the least if he found me attractive.
Still, the idea that he didn’t stung a little bit.
“What happened?” he asked finally.
I shook my head. “Well, I was driving home to…” I was about to explain all about my parents and why I’d dallied so long before getting on the road and how I’d gotten caught in the storm, but decided he didn’t want to hear all of that crap so I jumped ahead. “I found you in that ditch. Wouldn’t have seen you if I hadn’t been trying to get a signal on my cell.” I motioned towards my phone that was sitting on the table by the door. It was dead and useless. “I thought you were dead, but then you moved and I got you in my car. I pulled off at the first turn I could find. You were in really bad shape.” I fell silent, waiting for…something. An explanation, maybe? Just something to fill in his side of the night.
He took in my story for a moment, then said, “Thank you. I guess I owe you a lot.”
I smiled, feeling my cheeks warm even further. “Of course. I mean, it was definitely no problem. I’m just glad I found you.” I winced at how that sounded. Like I was in some romance novel and he was my romantic lead. “I mean, in time. I found you in time. You know, before something bad happened.” His eyebrows rose and I noted his bruises again. “Worse. Before something worse happened, because obviously something bad already happened and—”
I was rambling. Bad rambling. All over the place rambling. I felt that generally speaking I did pretty well with people. I was upbeat and fairly likeable, everyone told me so, and usually I didn’t have a problem with social engagements. Hanging out with people? No problem. Meeting new people for the first time? Got it under control. But throw me in what basically amounted to a one-room cabin with a dark and gorgeous stranger while I sat in nothing but an oversized sweater? Apparently that was not a situation I handled well.
I heard the man laugh a little at me, then cough to cover it up. He cleared his throat then and said, “Right. And does my pretty rescuer have a name?”
Pretty? My mind immediately latched onto that word and ran with it. It worked overtime to create these elaborate scenarios of him drawing me to him, brushing away my hair, telling me I was gorgeous, picture perfect, whatever. And then he would kiss me and hold me tightly to his chest until I felt like—
My face must have turned red from his compliment and the fantasy, but I hoped he didn’t notice. Or at least that he thought it was from the fire or something. Yeah right. Combing my fingers through my tangled, still slightly damp hair, I smiled at him and said, “Um, it’s Elle. Elle Finney.”
His eyes flickered, then he smiled a little. “Ciaran O’Connor.”
Ciaran. Finally, I had a name for my enigmatic stranger. I thought instantly that the name suited him. It had a powerful, almost dangerous ring to it, but it was sexy, too. Which just so happened to also describe him perfectly.
“It’s nice to meet you finally, Mr. O’Connor.”
His smile widened slightly, turning into a knowing smirk, and I suddenly had the very real impression that he knew I thought he was sexy. “Call me Ciaran, please. And, really, the pleasure is all mine.”
A shudder went through me. Not fair! No way was a cliché like that allowed to get me all hot and bothered! Before I had to struggle and find something to say to that, Ciaran shoved off the blanket I’d thrown across him and swung his feet to the floor. “Is the storm still bad?” he asked, glancing uncertainly at the covered window.
I shook my head. “Um, no. It’s still coming down a little, but the wind has died down and the snow is pretty light at the moment.”
At my statement, he nodded and pushed himself to a standing position. When he swayed like he might crumple back down, I leapt to my feet and hurried over to him. By the time I reached him, he had already steadied himself, but I reached for him anyway. I put a hand on hi
s arm to steady him. “Take it easy!” I scolded him. “You were running a really high fever last night and you were in bad shape when I found you. Don’t push yourself.”
I half expected him to shake me off, because he looked like the kind of man who didn’t want to take any sort of help from the likes of me. But instead he just looked down at where my hand touched his bare skin just beneath his shirtsleeve. I noticed a twining Celtic knot tattoo on his bicep where I was touching and beneath that what looked to be one of those old Celtic crosses on his forearm.
Pulling back my arm, I shook my head. “Sorry. Just…just take it easy, okay?”
He took a moment to study me. I felt his gaze on me, stirring up something inside me that I would have to write off as hormones or something along those lines. “There’s no time for that,” he finally said to me, his voice that low, gravelly sound that sent shivers through me that I couldn’t help.
