His Wild Desire: A Curvy Woman Mountain Man Romance (Rugged Peaks Book 1)

Chapter 2

The trek back to my cabin is slow-going with Emma in my arms, but I”m not complaining. Her head rests against my shoulder, those long chestnut locks tickling my jaw. She”s stopped shivering now that she”s bundled in my body heat, but her ankle”s pretty swollen from that nasty sprain.

I kick open the cabin door and step inside, greeted by the comforting scent of woodsmoke and pine. Carefully, I set Emma on a kitchen chair and shrug off my pack, letting it thud to the hardwood floor.

”You, uh, just sit tight,” I mutter gruffly. My arms are already missing the warmth of her curvy frame pressed against me, a fact I instantly dismiss.

Shrugging off my pack, I head straight to the stone fireplace and get a blaze roaring within minutes, the familiar motions ingrained from a lifetime out here. This drafty old hunting cabin will be nice and toasty soon enough.

I busy myself stoking the smoldering embers in the hearth, piling on fresh logs until the flames lick higher, bathing the rustic interior in a warm, flickering glow. With a satisfied nod, I grab my med kit and kneel in front of her.

”Alright, let”s take a look at that ankle.”

Her eyes widen as I reach for the laces of her hiking boot. ”You don”t have to—”

”You want to walk out of here?” I cut her off flatly.

She presses her lips into a thin line but doesn”t argue further as I unlace the boot and ease it off her foot, followed by the thick woolen sock. She sucks in a sharp breath when I gently probe the joint, her teeth sinking into that plump lower lip. For a split second, my gaze lingers there before I force it away with an inward scowl.

Get it together, Stone.

”Definitely a sprain,” I confirm gruffly. ”You were damn lucky I was still on the trail when—”

”You’re right. Thank you.” Those softly murmured words cut me off, her voice unexpectedly earnest. When I glance up, her expression is equally sincere, all traces of that earlier hostility gone. ”Seriously, I... I don”t know what would”ve happened if you hadn”t come along.”

My jaw tightens at the unexpected gratitude, that gruff demeanor slipping instinctively back into place like a suit of armor.

”Just did what anyone would’ve done,” I deflect with a curt shrug, turning my attention to rummaging through my well-stocked first aid kit.

”Somehow, I doubt ”anyone” would”ve been wandering up that trail after sundown,” she counters dryly. ”You must have been tracking a... what? A 10-point elk? Prized mountain lion?”

One corner of my mouth tugs upward at her obvious dig despite my efforts to suppress it. There”s no hiding the fact that she”s got me pretty well pegged already—a true child of the mountains through and through.

”Close,” I retort easily, pulling out an elastic bandage and gesturing for her to straighten her leg. ”I was actually stalking the most dangerous game of all—the dreaded city tourist who thinks a brand-new pair of hikers means she can handle the Rockies solo.”

Her brows instantly knit in a glare, but I don”t give her a chance to fire back before gently taking her calf in my hands and starting to wrap the bandage. She hisses sharply at the first firm press of fabric, her eyes fluttering closed, but I keep my touches light and even as I work.

”Cold water and this compression bandage will bring that swelling down soon enough,” I explain. Something tells me this one could use all the basic survival tips she can get out here. ”Just gotta keep it elevated and let it rest for—”

”Yes, I think I can grasp the concept of R.I.C.E. without the full Boy Scout rundown,” she interrupts. But there”s an unmistakable undercurrent of gratitude in her tone that instantly takes any sting out of the snarky words.

I smirk faintly and give one last gentle tug to secure the wrap, resisting the urge to let my fingers linger on that soft skin any longer than necessary. ”Whatever you say, city girl.”

That earns me one of those patented eye rolls again, but she doesn”t argue further as I drag another chair over and carefully prop her leg up on it. My gaze drifts over her face, searching for any lingering traces of discomfort before I force myself to avert it again with an inward grimace.

What the hell am I doing here playing nursemaid for this total stranger? I”ve got better things to do than coddle some spoiled princess who got in over her head out here.

Still... I can”t quite bring myself to leave her to her own devices. There”s a fire in this girl that”s hard to ignore. She might be utterly clueless about life in the mountains, but she”s got moxy—I”ll give her that much.

”So,” Emma”s voice pipes up again. ”What”s the wi-fi password around here?”

I turn back toward her with a bark of laughter. ”You really think I got internet all the way up here?”

Her eyes go comically wide. ”You mean, we”re totally off the grid up here?”

”That”s kinda the point,” I tell her, sliding into the other chair.

”Please tell me you at least have a functional toilet.”

My deep chuckle echoes around the small space at her obvious horror. Thanks to the rainwater collection system and the generator, I”ve managed to rig up a decent bit of indoor plumbing here, but I can”t resist milking this for all it”s worth.

”We”ve got good old-fashioned firelight, a well-stocked pantry, and the sweet song of the great outdoors as our evening soundtrack.”

I gesture grandly around the cozy confines, unable to bite back my smirk at the utterly dumbfounded look on her face. City folks are too damned easy to rile up sometimes.

She gapes at me, seeming at a total loss. ”But... how do you, like, watch TV? Listen to music? Hell, what do you even do for entertainment?”

”I go outside,” I drawl slowly, as if explaining something to a small child. ”You know, enjoy nature and all. Fresh air, trees... that kinda stuff.”

Emma wrinkles her pert nose. ”So, what? You just embrace squalor for fun?” she scoffs. ”Living like a caveman?”

”I embrace freedom,” I counter. ”Freedom from the chaos and noise and meaningless bullshit that you”ve convinced yourself you can”t live without.”

Her jaw clenches, those striking green eyes sparking with defiance. But I”ve struck a nerve, and we both know it.

”Don”t knock it till you”ve tried it, princess,” I add with a shrug. ”Out here? You”re stripped down to what really matters. No distractions. Just existing on your own terms. It”s simple.”

She”s quiet for a long beat, that sharp gaze searching my face as if seeing me for the first time. I hold her stare, refusing to be the one who looks away first.

”Simple like sleeping on a straw mattress and bathing in an icy stream?” she counters at last, her tone more curious than mocking.

I bark out a laugh. ”You”re catching on.”

Standing, I cross the cabin to the cedar chest at the foot of the bed. The bed itself, draped in a patchwork quilt, sits against the far wall, flanked by small, shuttered windows that cast slanted beams of light across the room. I flip open the chest, the creak of the hinges echoing slightly, and begin rummaging through for a clean shirt.

Speaking of simple living, I don”t have much in the way of sleepwear for a lady guest.” I turn back to her with a faded flannel in hand. ”But this ought to do the trick.”

She accepts the oversized shirt, her fingers brushing mine in the exchange. A spark of awareness prickles along my skin, one I determinedly ignore.

”I”ll just give you some privacy to change,” I mumble, suddenly aware of how intimate this whole setup has become. Grabbing my tattered sweats, I head for the small bathroom, closing the sliding door.

I strip down to my boxers with efficient movements, all too aware of the faint rustle of clothing just a few feet away. It takes every ounce of willpower not to peek through the crack in the door.

Get a grip, Stone, I chastise myself. The last thing I need is to be ogling the poor woman like some kind of creep.

I tug on my sweats, then grab my balled-up sleep shirt, bracing myself. ”You decent?”

”Well, that”s subjective,” her voice drifts back with a hint of amusement. ”But I”m dressed... sort of.”

I emerge from the bathroom to find her nestled on the couch in front of the fireplace, my oversized flannel drowning her frame. Her bare legs are tucked beneath her, the shirt hem riding up to reveal a glimpse of creamy thigh that does something unsettling to my pulse.

”Cozy?” I ask dryly, fighting to keep my gaze level.

She shrugs, her lips quirking. ”I guess it has a rustic charm.”

”Right.” I clear my throat, pointedly avoiding the enticing picture she makes in my clothes. ”Well, you take the bed. I”ll bunk on the couch.”

She frowns, glancing from the bed to me and back. ”Are you sure? I can take the couch.”

”Don”t worry about it.” I wave off her concern, already grabbing the spare quilt from the cedar chest. ”I spend half my nights camping under the stars anyway.”

Tossing the quilt onto the couch, I move to scoop her up again, this time mindful not to jostle her tender ankle.

”Easy there, hoss,” she mutters, looping an arm around my neck to brace herself as I carry her the few steps to the bed. ”I”m starting to think you just like having me in your arms.”

I snort at her audacity, gently depositing her on the mattress. ”Don”t flatter yourself, princess. I”m just being a gentleman.”

She shoots me a sly smile over one shoulder, her eyes sparkling with mischief. ”Well, in that case, I”ll be a lady and try not to snore.”

I shake my head, unable to repress my grin as I stretch out on the lumpy sofa, pulling the quilt up as I settle in for the night. ”Fat chance of that.”

An expectant silence falls over the cabin, the faint crackle of the dying fire the only sound. I stare up at the knotty pine ceiling, acutely aware of the woman just a few feet away.

”Hey, Caleb?” Her voice drifts through the shadows, soft and hesitant.

Here we go. ”Yeah?”

”Can I ask you something?”

”Seems you just did,” I drawl, unable to resist the urge to give her grief, even now.

A soft chuckle drifts back in response, quickly smothered. ”Smartass.”

My deep baritone rumbles out an amused huff. ”Ask your question.”

There”s a pause, then—”Why were you all the way out here by yourself?”

The question hangs between us, more loaded than she probably realizes. I consider brushing it off and keeping her at arm”s length like I have with everyone in my life since... well, since before I can remember.

”Isn”t it obvious?” I deflect, aiming for nonchalance. ”I don”t have much use for company.”

A beat passes before she speaks again, her voice softer this time. ”But doesn”t it get lonely?”

The word settles over me with surprising weight, like she”s prodding at something deeper than just my isolated lifestyle. Loneliness isn’t a feeling I”m accustomed to acknowledging these days.

”You know what true loneliness is?” I find myself replying. ”Feeling just as isolated in a crowd of people as you do out here by yourself.”

I don”t know what compels me to reveal that small truth, laying myself bare in an entirely uncharacteristic way. But something about this woman, this situation, has me dropping my guard before I can think better of it.

She”s silent for so long, I wonder if I”ve said too much. Just as I”m resigning myself to let the matter drop, she speaks up again.

”I guess I wouldn”t know anything about that,” she admits, her voice smaller than before. ”I”ve been too busy chasing promotions, surrounding myself with colleagues to avoid being alone. But at the end of the day...”

She trails off, and I find myself holding my breath, waiting for her to continue.

”At the end of the day,” she finally whispers, ”I”ve never felt more isolated.”

Her words slice straight through me with an unexpected potency, hitting a nerve I thought had calloused over long ago. In that moment, I realize two kindred souls can take many forms—even a gruff mountain loner and a pampered city socialite.

We lay there in loaded silence as the weight of our confessions hangs between us. For once, I don”t feel the knee-jerk urge to deflect or throw up emotional walls.

”Goodnight, Emma,” I rumble out in a tone that brooks no further discussion, my gravelly voice slicing through the taut silence.

A few beats pass before that quiet voice drifts back. ”Night, Caleb.”

With that, my eyes slip closed, her gentle breaths soon lulling me into the first decent sleep I”ve had in a while. For now, I”ll let the mystery of this woman rest.

But something tells me I’ll be losing more sleep over her in the nights to come.