Arctic Mountain Man (Cold Mountain Nights #10)

CHAPTER ONE

Sadie

“You want me to carry you?”

Aaron scoffed, his attitude thicker than the fleece lining of his overpriced hiking vest. My ankle throbbed where I’d twisted it, sending a sharp jolt up my leg as I shifted against the tree.

“Come on, babe. Be serious.”

I stared at him, openmouthed, the cool mountain air biting at my cheeks as I tried to process what he’d just said. And why he’d said it. Yeah, I was curvy, but him carrying me was not impossible. He could have at least offered a shoulder to lean on. I’d had to find my own walking stick, damn it.

How had we gone from a romantic fall weekend in the mountains to this? Me, questioning all my life choices that led to dating this guy. Him, ten feet away with his arms crossed, his hiking boots already angled toward the trail like he couldn’t wait to leave.

“I twisted it,” I said, through gritted teeth. “I didn’t fake an injury to get attention.”

As if anything like that would ever have worked on him. We’d only been together for a few months, but he still treated me… wrong.

“I didn’t say you did.” He used the same tone he used when I told him I didn’t like sushi, and he’d tried to convince me otherwise. “We’ve got at least three miles back to the trailhead, and I’ve got the heavier pack.”

I couldn’t stop the snort I gave. His pack was heavier than mine because he was carrying a battery-operated expresso machine, an excessive amount of flannel shirts that still had tags on them and untold cosmetic items. I was carrying the water, food, and the cheap two man tent he’d grabbed at the gas station like it was a pack of gum.

And tucked at the bottom of my pack was a black teddy I’d bought just for him. The thought made my stomach twist with embarrassment. How pathetic was that? I was limping on a mountain for a man who couldn’t be bothered to care.

I felt tears start in my eyes but refused to allow them to fall. I didn’t like to fail. At anything. That’s the only reason I had agreed to this trip, determined to give it my all and see if we could make our relationship work.

For once, I was happy not to succeed at something.

“So, what’s your plan?” I forced myself not to hobble over and throttle him. The look on his face, as if he was the one being inconvenienced, made me momentarily forget about my ankle.

He didn’t answer. Just adjusted the straps on his backpack like he was already mentally halfway down the mountain. “I’ll hike back down. They’ll send someone back up for you.”

“You’re just going to leave me here. In the woods. Injured. In the dark?” Was it wrong to wish a bear would come out of the woods and eat him? I leaned my head against the trunk of the tree which was giving me my only support at the moment.

He shrugged. “Don’t make this a big deal. We were going to sleep out here tonight anyway.”

Fury was now quickly overtaking my pain. I was not the one that wanted to go camping on a mountain, communing with nature. I loved room service and hot water too much for that.

He hitched his pack higher once again and turned away.

“Hey!”

Aaron turned and looked at me. But I hadn’t called out.

The voice came from the trees. Low. Rough. A command that froze the air itself.

A man stepped out from between two trees—six and a half feet of flannel, muscles, and glaring disapproval.

He looked like he’d wrestled a bear before breakfast and probably won.

Dark, hair, surprisingly well-kept beard, broad shoulders under a worn jacket.

And those eyes—a cold arctic blue. Hungry eyes that landed on me for a fraction longer than they should have.

He looked at Aaron like he was dog shit on his boot. I already liked the man.

“You don’t leave someone out here like that.” His voice was calm, but dangerous. A husky growl that curled through me in a way Aaron’s voice never had.

Aaron tried to puff up. I’d seen him do it before. “Who the hell are you?”

The man didn’t answer. He just stepped closer.

“Look, this has nothing to do with you.” Aaron walked over and tried to grab me, no doubt to be used as a shield in case this turned sideways. I stepped away quickly, yelping as I accidentally put weight on my injured foot.

The sound of the punch, short and brutal, made me flinch. Aaron dropped like a sack of potatoes, groaning in the dirt.

The mountain man stood over him, unconcerned, still radiating enough chilly demeanor that made me shiver. “Now get up and leave. You’re lucky you’re going to be able to walk out of here.”

Aaron scrambled to his feet, clutching his jaw. “You’re insane!”

“Go,” the man ordered. “And don’t come back.”

Aaron bolted down the trail, crashing through brush like his spine had suddenly grown legs. Good riddance.

“Next time, don’t hold back.” I smiled at my rescuer, letting my gaze rake over his shoulders, his jaw, the sheer size of him.

The man didn’t smile back. He didn’t even blink, but one of his eyebrows twitched in his otherwise emotionless face. I wondered a little hysterically if that was his version of flirting. Even that tiny twitch made me feel more seen than I had ever with Aaron.

He crouched in front of me, his hands closing around my ankle. Big, rough-looking hands—yet careful in the way they held me. I hated how good it felt to be taken care of—even by a stranger who looked like he belonged on the arctic tundra instead of surrounded by trees of every color. “Twisted?”

“Yeah. I stepped in a hole the size of the Grand Canyon.”

“Wrong state.” This time the edge of his mouth twitched and the heat that sparked in his eyes made my belly clench.

He gave a short nod, then looked up at me—blue eyes steady but unreadable.

“Don’t scream.”

“What?”

And then he picked me up. Backpack, curves and attitude. My breath caught as his arms locked around me, one under my knees, the other around my pack.

“You don’t have to do this,” I whispered, throat tight. I didn’t know what to do. I had never been picked up by a man before. It was a thrilling experience. If Aaron had picked me up I would have been afraid he’d drop me.

Not this man.

“No. I don’t.”

He adjusted me against his chest, and I felt it all—his strength, his heat, the steady beat of his heart under his flannel shirt.

I should’ve been scared. Or cautious. Or at the very least asked for his name.

But the way he looked at me, like he already knew I hated having to have someone help me. It made me feel weirdly safe.

And wanted.

An emotion I never felt with Aaron. I gave a deep sigh.

“He’s not worth it.”

“What?” I looked up at him and my vision was filled with that granite jaw—and his dark beard.

I wanted to reach out and touch it, see if it was as soft as it appeared to be.

I blamed the pain I was in for immediately imagining what it would feel like scraping against my nipples or up my inner thigh.

“You twisted your ankle. You can’t walk. He was going to leave you behind. That’s all you need to know.”

“He said he’d get help,” I mumbled, embarrassed but angry as hell at Aaron. I wished I had a signal so I could leave him a scathing text.

“He’s an asshole.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” I wasn’t sure the etiquette on this situation, but surely I could wrap my arms around his neck—for support. Right? I eased them up his broad chest. When he didn’t snap at me or drop me, I settled more deeply into his embrace.

He just kept walking, effortlessly, like it was nothing. And it probably wasn’t for someone built like him. He made me, with all my curves, feel small and feminine.

“What’s your name? I’m Sadie.”

He didn’t answer.

“Oh, okay. Cool. Just carry me off into the woods in complete silence. This is normal. Perfectly normal.”

I didn’t try to talk after that. There was just the sound of his boots on the trail, the rustle of leaves and the occasional grunt when he adjusted his hold on me.

I let my head rest against his shoulder, partly because the entire day was catching up to me fast—and partly because it felt…

safe. Warm. Like home. I knew I should shake myself out of this feeling, but I allowed myself a few more minutes.

Eventually we broke into a clearing. A small log cabin sat nestled at the edge of a ridge. It was rustic and charming all at once. There was a stack of chopped wood and an axe stuck in a stump, a small porch.

“Is this yours?” I asked softly.

He didn’t answer.

He shoved open the door with one big, booted foot and stepped inside.

The cabin was small but clean, with rough-cut wooden beams that held up a tall ceiling, a stone hearth, and a kitchen that was surprisingly modern looking with shiny stainless steel appliances.

Apparently, my mountain man rescuer liked his creature comforts.

He set me gently down on the couch, then disappeared down a hallway. When he came back, he held a first aid kit, a bottle of water, and a folded quilt. Still silent.

“Drink,” he ordered. I took the water and gulped thirstily. Aaron had not believed in breaks along the trails. He’d barely stopped when I’d sprained my ankle.

My rescuer crouched down in front of me, removing my sneakers and socks with a strange gentleness, like he knew how easily things could break.

He grunted when he held the sneakers up, one brow arched.

He didn’t need to say anything. I knew they weren’t appropriate for hiking in the woods, but I hadn’t been given much warning for the impromptu trip.

“Fine. Go head, judge me.”

“Already did. Now I’m deciding what to do with you.”

My pulse skipped a beat and suddenly I didn’t know if I wanted to poke the bear—or run.