My Mountain Man Valentine (Wild Heart Mountain: Mountain Heroes #7)

5. Ethan

5

ETHAN

L ucy hangs limp over my shoulder by the time we reach the trapper’s hut. She pounded on my back for the first ten minutes, but once she realized I wasn’t stopping until we reached shelter, she resigned herself to her fate and let me do what I do best: get both of us to a safe place for the night.

Now I kick the door open with my foot, and her head lifts up as we enter the hut. It’s a small wooden construction with a single bed in one corner and a table and two wooden chairs in the other. A bench and cupboard make up the kitchen. There’s no electricity and no running water. But it’s shelter and a place to hole up until we can make it out of here safely tomorrow.

I slide Lucy off my shoulder, and she winces as her foot hits the floor. She doesn’t look at me as she hobbles over to the chair.

“We need to get out of our clothes.”

Her head jerks up, and the scowl on her face makes me step back. She’s pissed at me for carrying her, but we moved a hell of a lot faster that way. My arms wrapped around her thighs had my imagination going all sorts of places, and now I’m tongue-tied.

“Because they’re wet,” I clarify, hoping she doesn’t realize how much I’d like to get her out of her clothes for other reasons.

I shake the thought out of my head. I haven’t been with a woman in a long time, and having one pressed against my body has me all tangled up inside.

She shrugs out of her coat, leaving a puddle of water on the wooden floor.

I radio in to HQ, letting them know we’ve reached the hut and we’re safe for the night. It’s not much, but it’s better than trying to cross the swollen river in the dark.

I hang our dripping coats on nails hammered into the back of the door. My sweater underneath is dry, thankfully. I shrug off my boots and the rain proof pants I have over my thermals. I’ve got a dry layer of clothing, but the same can’t be said for Lucy.

While her raincoat has kept her top layers dry, her leggings are soaked through.

“They’re going to have to come off.”

She frowns at me, and I hold my hands up. “I’ll find you something to wrap around yourself, but you can’t stay in wet clothing.”

I dig a foil blanket out of my backpack, and Lucy snatches it off me.

I hate that she’s angry with me, but it was the best call to pick her up and get us here quickly.

I turn away to give her some privacy and do an assessment of the hut. The bed is made up with a sheet and blanket and a couple of cushions as if someone used it not too long ago. There’s a rug on the floor and a shelf with a couple of paperbacks and some candles.

In the cupboard under the bench is a portable gas burner, with no gas and a few utensils, some matches, and a dishcloth.

Everything seems neat and clean, like it’s used regularly.

Out the back is a tiny bathroom. It’s not the best set of facilities, but at least it’s something.

When I come back, Lucy’s struggling to pull her boot off over her sore ankle. Her face is set in a grimace as she tugs at the muddy boot.

“Let me help.” I crouch in front of her, and reluctantly she lets me take her foot. I loosen the laces, making sure they’re as loose as they can go before gently pulling the boot off. I roll the sock down and inspect the foot. Her toes have gone wrinkly from the wet, and the deep red nail polish she’s wearing has rubbed off her pinky.

It’s a delicate foot and I run my fingers over the bridge, making my way to the ankle. She winces as I reach the tender part. Around her ankle, the skin is starting to darken into a bruise.

“I don’t have any ice, but I can wrap it up. The compression will help.”

She nods but still doesn’t say anything.

I indicate her wet leggings. “Get those off first, then I’ll treat your ankle.”

I turn away so Lucy can pull her leggings off. I hear the swish as she pulls them down her legs and steps out of them. My heart thumps in my chest as I think about her behind me peeling off her wet things.

There’s a sharp cry of pain behind me and the crash of a chair falling to the floor. I spin around and Lucy’s gripping the table, her eyes scrunched up and her mouth set in a grimace.

Her leggings are stuck halfway over her foot, and the chair is on the floor on its side.

“What happened?” I try to keep my eyes on her face and not on the pale skin of her exposed legs.

“I knocked my ankle against the table and the pain took me by surprise.” She peers at me, and for the first time her scowl is gone. “I’m okay.”

“You’re not okay.” I right the chair and take her by the shoulders to gently push her down into it. “I’m going to help you out of these.”

She nods stoically and pulls her top down over the top of her leggings, but not before I catch a glimpse of black lace hugging the side of her hip. A delicate red bow is tied to a thin strip of the delicate lace, giving her panties a sexy look.

My mind races, thinking about where that tiny strap leads to and if there are any more sexy bows on the prim schoolteacher’s panties.

My breath hitches, and I crouch down so she doesn’t see the stirring in my pants.

Focus, numb nuts.

It’s obviously been far too long since I saw female underwear, and now the first glimpse of her panties has my cock as hard as the chair leg I’m gripping onto.

But black lace with red bows, I was not expecting that. If it was something sensible like cotton panties, I’m sure I wouldn’t be behaving like a lustful teenager. But black lace and a red bow, that’s sexy. It makes me wonder what else this prim schoolteacher is hiding.

“Is it looking okay?” Her voice brings me out of my fantasy and I concentrate on the foot, pretending to examine it when all I can think about is that tiny red bow and whether there’s a matching one on the front of her panties.

I swallow and run my hand over her ankle. Lucy shivers at my touch, and that pulls me back to reality. The woman’s in pain. She doesn’t need me having indecent thoughts about her.

“We’ll get these wet things off, then I’ll make you more comfortable.”

Lucy managed to get her leggings halfway down her legs, and I hook my thumbs over the waistband. Her skin is cool underneath, and it pimples as I slide the leggings down her calves.

The skin is soft and smooth, made slick with the rain. I go slowly so as not to bump the ankle, holding her heel in one hand and sliding the fabric over her foot with the other.

Rain clings to her calves, and the faint scent of rain and something musty reaches my nostrils. I long to lick the rain off her and follow my nose to the source of the musty scent, to unwrap the tiny red bows that adorn her panties.

My gaze catches on her swollen ankle and the bruise that’s beginning to show.

Focus.

I grab the first aid kit out of my backpack. Ice would be the best thing to put on it, but I have to make do with what we’ve got.

I scoop arnica cream onto my hands and lift her foot, trying not to look down her leg. I force myself to look up as I apply the cream. Lucy winces and I move slowly, rubbing it in circles over the affected area.

Her face scrunches up in pain, and I say the first thing that comes into my head to distract her. “Did you have any plans for tonight?”

The wince turns to a frown, and she sighs. “Yeah. I did actually.”

That’s when I remember it’s Valentine’s Day. She probably had a date with a boyfriend. That’s why she’s wearing the lace panties with the red bow.

“You had a date?” It comes out as a growl, and I’m overwhelmed by a sudden jealousy.

I grip her foot too tightly, and she sucks in a breath between her teeth. “Ow.”

“Sorry.” I ease up on her foot, but my veins are popping. “You’d better call your boyfriend and let him know where you are. I’ve got signal.” My voice is clipped, and I can’t explain this feeling inside of me. It shouldn’t make me angry, the thought of this stranger on a date, but it does.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

I’m far more relieved by her words than I should be, which is unfair. I’ve got no claim on this woman.

“I did have a date though.”

I finish wrapping her foot and tuck the bandage in a little too tight. “A potential boyfriend?”

She sits back in the chair. “Something like that.”

I hate the guy. I don’t know why, but I hate him.

“Did you have a Valentine’s date?”

I shake my head. “No. I’m happily single.”

She eyes me warily, and I get the feeling I’m being assessed although I’m not sure what for.

I pull over the other chair and put one of the cushions from the bed on top and rest her foot gently on the cushion.

“You’ll need to keep it elevated.”

She nods and looks so forlorn that I feel sorry for her. “Hey, I’m sorry this isn’t how you wanted to spend Valentine’s Day.”

I’m not sorry she’s not going on her date, but I don’t tell her that. Whatever jackass she was meeting up with doesn’t deserve those special red bows.

I feel for Lucy. All she wanted was a nice night out for Valentine’s Day, and she’s stuck in a cabin with me and a sprained ankle.

Maybe there’s something I can do to make tonight special for her.