Chapter 3
Sweat trickled over Jaxon’s forehead, and he brushed it away. The wind howled outside the window. Cracking open an eyelid proved it was morning—already. Despite being old as dirt, the log cabin held warmth better than any new homes he’d been in. That or McKenna had the heat cranked to hell fires.
He threw back the comforter and sat up. The promising aroma of coffee floated through the air.
Shit, had he really paraded around in his underwear last night?
It wasn’t as if he’d had much choice. She’d taken his clothes when he passed out, and the cougar creeping around the property had driven away what little modesty he had.
The heaviness in his chest had subsided, but every muscle in his body screamed as though he’d been run over by a train.
He cleared his throat. The tickle lingered, but it wasn’t as intense as it had been the previous night.
Surely it was rest that had helped his body heal, not the syrup or other stuff she’d given him. He stood from the pullout couch and his gaze landed on his pants and shirt, folded neatly on the table he’d moved out of the way to make room for the uncomfortable mattress.
He lifted the shirt. The bloodstain on the collar was gone. He brought the material to his nose and inhaled the scent of lavender. Great. Just what he needed—her scent clinging to his body all day, just as it’d stuck to his mind through his dreams last night.
That and her nipples. Christ, she had the most perfect, pert little buds begging for attention beneath that flimsy shirt. He pulled on his clothes and went into the kitchen. No noise sounded from the hallway, and the door that led to her room hung wide open.
“McKenna?” He went to the coffee maker and filled the blue checkered mug she’d left on the counter for him.
No reply. He lifted a glass container filled with thick white .
. . milk? Was this her coffee creamer? There was no other substance on the counter.
Just a spoon. He opened the lid and took a sniff.
Vanilla and . . . coconut? Screw it. He was too tired to care about what she drank, and whatever it was didn’t smell bad, so he’d give it a whirl.
Where the hell was—
A slip of paper lay beneath the spoon.
Jaxon,
It’s still snowing heavily so I’m walking into town and will come back with a ride home for you. Fix yourself some coffee and there’s eggs in the fridge if you feel like cooking. I’ll be back in an hour.
McKenna
Christ! He balled up the paper, took a few quick sips of caffeine, and snagged his coat off the kitchen chair on the way to the front door.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Was she crazy? The damn mountain lion had been lurking around her house only a few hours earlier.
It could still be out there. His gaze landed on the shotgun against the wall.
Dammit, she’d gone out completely unprotected.
And why hadn’t he heard her bustling around the house?
The thought of being passed out in her living room, half naked, while she snuck off to walk a half hour in a bloody blizzard to get him a ride was beyond emasculating.
He shoved his feet in his boots, grabbed the gun, and exited her cabin. His gaze swept the front yard, which had been blanketed in an additional two feet of snow since he arrived. Snowshoe tracks danced along the surface, barely breaking through the piles that surrounded the property.
Dammit to hell and back. Whatever weight had lifted from his chest had returned tenfold. He’d probably get pneumonia now thanks to her running off. But he couldn’t leave her to be the mountain lion’s breakfast.
He stepped into the snow and sank to just above his knees. Juggling the gun under his arm, he zipped up his coat and dug his gloves from his pockets. “McKenna!” he bellowed. The more noise he made the better chance he had of scaring away the beast—or alerting it.
The rising sun’s brilliance was hidden behind the rampage of flurries, but its glow was still there to let him know it was a new day. He followed her tracks as he scanned the wooded area.
“Unfuckingbelievable.” When he caught up to her, he’d tell her exactly how ridiculous this was.
Hell, if he’d known she was so uncomfortable having him there, he would’ve walked into town himself this morning—gun in hand—and suffered the consequences later.
The wind pelted him in the face and a slew of snow whipped into his jacket.
“M—”
He stopped at the sight of a figure in the distance. A small dark shade of purple amid the sheen of white. He slowed, but his pulse cranked up a notch.
No. It wasn’t an animal. It was walking upright and had a wild curtain of hair blowing in the wind. He broke into a run, and McKenna’s hunched frame came into view. She picked up her pace, flouncing over the snow in her fancy snowshoes.
He closed the distance between them and caught her shoulder in his free hand. “What the hell are you doing?”
Snowflakes caked her thick eyelashes, her pale lips almost gray. “I—I left a note.” Her chin quivered.
He tucked her into his side. “Yeah, you said something about wanting to get eaten by a fucking mountain lion,” he mumbled, as he towed her back toward her cabin. “Are you all right?”
“Fine. It’s too cold. I can barely see. I doubt I would’ve made it to the road.” Her voice was carried away on the wind.
He bit back the assault of reprimands. It hurt his lungs too much to talk in the icy air. She huddled against him as close as the snowshoes would allow and followed their tracks.
“This is crazy. I’ve never seen a storm so—”
She squeaked as she pitched over into the snow. Jaxon caught her waist and helped her to her feet. With her back in the crook of his arm he edged her forward, but she didn’t move. Her sharp intake of breath made discs of worry collide in his gut.
“What’s wrong?”
She lifted her mittened hand and pointed in front of them. Her skin was a startling shade of white. “There,” she wheezed.
He looked in the direction she was pointing. White sheets blazed down from the heavens, reducing the cabin to a faint outline even though it stood less than fifty feet away. He scanned the ground. Firewood, her nearly buried car, a large tree stump, and . . .
Jesus.
Between the tree stump and the side of the cabin’s porch stood the mountain lion. Its eyes locked on Jaxon, and what little heat his body held evaporated.
Bloody hell.
* * *
Even in the blizzard the animal appeared huge. Its flicking tail was a warning. Jaxon’s body turned to stone next to hers.
He shoved her behind his back and lifted the gun. A low hiss waged war with the wind and McKenna cringed. She hated the thought of the shotgun being fired, but a scare shot might just save them. She watched as Jaxon moved his finger to the trigger and aimed—right at the cougar.
“No!” She shoved his shoulder and the bullet fired into the woods. The cat took off in the same direction, it’s muscular back rippling on its retreat.
Jaxon wheeled on her. “Are you crazy? You could have got one of us shot.”
She snapped down her eyebrows and met his glare. His tanned, even skin now bore blotches of red from the cold. The rippling green hues in his eyes blazed constrained anger.
She jutted out her chin. “You were going to shoot an innocent animal.”
“Innocent? It almost killed me last night.”
She rolled her eyes and stomped toward the house.
Just like an arrogant city boy to not take responsibility for his being in the situation in the first place and to attempt to shoot the animal the first chance he got.
She ascended the porch steps, clumsily with the snowshoes, and bumped the door open with her hip.
Jaxon came in on her heels and shut the door behind him. “I don’t know what you know about guns, but if you own one, you should be aware that grabbing someone’s arm midshot is really fucking stupid.”
She shook off her mitts and let them fall to the bench next to the door.
“First of all, it’s my gun. My house. And my property.
You might have had an unfortunate encounter with a wild animal but, hey,” she said, holding out her arms. Her voice rose an octave.
“You’re in the wild. Go back to the city where you came from if you don’t like it.
” She spun on her heel and advanced on the kitchen.
The rustling of his coat sounded, followed by the heavy clomp of his feet.
She sucked in a deep breath and fingered the stone at her chest. She wouldn’t fight with him.
With the heightened energy created by the storm, his fear of the mountain lion, and the lust arcing between them, it’d lead to a nuclear blast. She watched as he stopped in the doorway of the kitchen and leaned his hip against the jamb, crossing his arms over his chest. She busied herself tidying the already clean space then went to the fridge and pulled out eggs and non-dairy milk.
She met his gaze. His expression held a hint of distaste. “What are you staring at?” Fire simmered on her cheeks. So much for not fighting.
He didn’t move, but something in his eyes changed. The current of electricity flowing from his body sent her nerves into a tailspin.
“You’re right, I’m sorry for biting your head off. But I won’t apologize for firing at the mountain lion. I’d do it again if it meant we got into the cabin safely.”
Some of the heat left her cheeks. “I overreacted. This whole situation has me jumpy. It’s unsettling when you don’t feel safe in your own home, you know?”
His face fell, and he straightened away from the doorway. “I make you feel unsafe?”
Embarrassed, she opened and closed her mouth until her brain grasped the words floating over her tongue. “No. Gosh, no. That’s not what I meant. Just the whole thing—being snowed in, unable to call anyone, the mountain lion. It’s scary.”
His gaze searched her. She rolled her lips in and wished she could hide so he wouldn’t be able to see all the anxiety climbing up her neck.
“What happened with Trevor?”
There it was. The question she’d dreaded.
Her abdominal wall clenched, and her hand shook as she lifted an egg. It splattered on the floor at her feet.
“Crap.” She bent down to pick up the shells.
Jaxon crossed the room and knelt next to her. His hand locked on her wrist, and she looked up at him. The force of his green globes slammed into her chest, shaking her heart chakra. “McKenna,” he purred. “Tell me what happened.”