Chapter 13
Levi
Every single ounce of fear gripping me melted away as her arms squeezed me tight around my core. Her arms shook as she held me with all her might.
Every possible worst-case scenario that had played rapid-fire through my brain for the past hour—poof. Gone.
When her text sharing her location came through, my blood went icy. There was no way she’d be back before the storm, and my response went undelivered.
As I sprinted up that trail, a ferocious fear propelled my feet. Nothing could happen to her. Protect her at all costs.
The moment I heard her pathetic shout in the distance and saw her blurry form up the trail, it was like I returned to my body all at once. I slammed into myself so hard I thought I might stumble. I had been all action, and now she was here. All the driving panic fell out of my body, leaving me floaty with adrenaline.
She limped pathetically toward me, and I saw a flash of red running down her shin. “Stop moving,” I shouted toward her, but she must not have heard because she kept coming at me.
I braced myself just as she ran into me. A tremendous force for such a little thing. As her soaking arms wrapped around me, she sobbed out an anguished relief that had my chest almost collapsing. Her entire body shivered so hard, her lips blue and cheeks alarmingly pale. Her light hiking gear had done nothing against this early winter storm, pelting us mercilessly.
She was safe and in my arms, and my lungs took in air for the first time in hours. My sanity returned to me, and I held her back. Nothing else mattered. The previous boundaries were lost in the quickly falling snow.
“H-hi.” She looked up at me like I was the key to her salvation, and I cursed myself that she had even had to go this far without me.
I smoothed a hand over her freezing cheeks, pushing back rain-soaked hair. I shrugged out of my heavy wool-lined coat and wrapped her tight into it. She’d need to get out of these soaking clothes as soon as possible, but for now, this would at least help her from getting any colder.
Her eyes rolled back as she sank into the oversized coat, and she sighed loudly in pleasure.
I flared my nostrils and looped my arm around her waist to carry some of the load .
“Come on. My truck isn’t far.”
“Th-that’s great news,” she stuttered. “I wasn’t s-sure how much more—” She cut herself off when her voice got high and tight.
“You’re okay.” I ground my jaw and kept her steady.
The rain lessened, but only because it was transforming into heavy, fat flakes of snow. The sounds around us shifted from a cacophony to an almost eerie quiet. We were going too slow. She was favoring her leg too much.
She shivered so hard and kept mumbling over and over. “I’m not stupid. It was just bad luck. I swear I’m not stupid.”
I couldn’t take it for another second. I stopped abruptly and turned to face her. She lifted her chin to meet my gaze. Fat flakes fell on her face; her eyes were red and full of tears. “I feel so stupid,” she admitted, and her face crumpled. “I hate this feeling.”
I wanted to hold her, to comfort her. She was worrying about the wrong thing. We didn’t have time for this.
I cupped her chin, using my thumb to brush away a fresh snowflake. I met her gaze with my own, unwavering with determination. “Never, not even for a second, did I think you were stupid. Mother Nature gives no shits, is all. You did everything right.”
Her bottom lip trembled, and she nodded. After another beat, she said, “Th-thank you.”
“Can I carry you?” I asked.
“I don’t think—Okay, then.” I lifted her in the fireman carry I learned when Pace made me take that local Search and Rescue course. I could kiss the guy for pushing me to do it as I cataloged all the things I would do to help Claire. Not that I wouldn’t still be a grumpy shit about it.
Snow blasted her face, and I used my hand to gently tuck her head toward the heat of my neck. I hissed when her icy nose sat on my pulse point. Once in my arms, I felt a release of her tension.
We moved much quicker now, and I hardly noticed her. Except the tremors. I must have been mumbling assurances because she shifted her arms tighter around my neck at one point and whispered against my skin, “I’m okay, really. Just so glad you’re here.”
My feet flew.
Ripley assaulted Claire the moment I set her in the cab of the truck. “Get back, girl. Give the lady some room. She doesn’t need you taking any of her body heat.” Ripley was too busy twirling and shivering to listen. I’d left her in there with the heat going and was so glad that it was noticeably warm.
“She’s o-okay.” Claire sighed again, moving her hands to the vents.
“No. Keep the coat closed and your hands tucked. We need to keep your core and head warm.” I blocked most of the snow from blowing in on her. It clung to my back, soaking through my extra flannel.
“Levi, it’s not hypothermia. I just g-got a little wet.”
I reached across her, and she leaned back with a soft gasp when I glared, face closer to hers.
“Okay, a little s-soaking.” She chuckled nervously .
I came back forward with two more blankets; one, I wrapped tightly around her lower half and the other around her soaking head to create a hood. “We’ll be home soon, but this is a good start.”
“So fussy,” she said and leaned her head back, eyes closing. Ripley burrowed her way into the mass on her lap and disappeared. I slammed the door and ran around to my side. My hands shook so hard that I missed the handle the first time and had to try again.
I took a steadying breath before I got in.
We drove in silence, an occasional tremor in my periphery making me speed up.
“How did you come to own a designer dog?” she asked out of nowhere.
I had a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel, focusing on the road, so it took me a second for her words to sink in. I raised an eyebrow at Ripley, who was nothing but vibrations under the blankets. “I wouldn’t say she’s built for much,” I said.
“That’s where you’re wrong. Italian greyhounds are worth a pretty penny. Bred for speed. Why do you have her all the way up here?”
Again, I looked at Ripley skeptically.
“A little less than a year ago, I found her near a dumpster behind Ruth’s B and B. She was in a fight with a raccoon and holding herself against the snarling little jerk. Reminded me of the movie Alien .”
She clicked her tongue. “Poor thing. Someone abandoned her?” Claire said with the same shock I’d first shared.
“Yeah,” I grunted.
I remembered the anger when I found Ripley. It was the first emotion to pierce through the haze of my depression. She was dirty and terrified. Nobody claimed her. Nobody posted about losing her. Nobody had even chipped her. Knowing some rich prick paid all that money just to tire of her when they were done brought all that rage back up.
I reached my hand under the blanket to scratch Ripley’s head. Just thinking about her hurting or hungry made me need to pet her. I accidentally grazed Claire’s thigh and quickly pulled my hand back like I had … well, like I’d groped the thigh of my tenant.
“Sorry, I was?—”
“No. I know. It’s okay,” she insisted.
She cleared her throat. I focused on the road.
We sat in awkward silence for the rest of the drive.
The snow was already sticking to the gravel road back to the house. This storm was just ramping up. We were back in front of the cabin in no time. I pulled open her door and carried both the ladies out.
“I’m going to get used to this,” she teased.
I almost said, “Good, you should,” but kept my mouth clamped tight. “Door locked?” I asked as we climbed the short steps.
“I don’t think so.”
I kicked the door open without meaning to and brought her straight to the wood-burning stove. Thankfully, plenty of hot embers were still glowing. I set her down and grabbed wood to stack until the flames caught. Ripley jumped free to wiggle her way into her favorite spot at the end of the bed.
With my back to her, focused on my task, I said, “Take off those clothes, quick.”
She cleared her throat, but I heard the soft fall of the blankets and the louder thump of my coat hitting the floor. I clenched my jaw and went to the small bureau beside the bed.
“I’m just grabbing some warm clothes,” I explained.
“Not that?—”
I quickly shut the drawer filled with bras and panties, ignoring the sweet, clean scent that drifted up. I scored big on the next one, grabbing long, fuzzy socks, a pair of heavy cotton sweats, and a buttery-soft but warm-looking sweater. I was sure she’d want undergarments, but this would have to be good enough for now.
She sucked in a sharp, pained breath behind me, and I spun without meaning to at the sound of her distress. She was in the process of bending at the waist to roll down her hiking pants. Her skin was alabaster white and pebbled with goose bumps. My eyes swept over her, cataloging for injuries, keeping my gaze cool and perfunctory, never landing on one place for too long. She was still in her panties, and no matter how hard I tried to detach from the scene before me, I wouldn’t be able to forget the sight of those bare thighs and the perfectly round curve of her ass anytime soon.
“Do you need—” I stepped toward her, and she stilled, eyes wide as she noticed I’d turned back. I averted my gaze and pointed at her leg. “You’re bleeding.”
“I slipped and cut my knee. Nothing bad, just need to clean it.” She straightened and watched me approach. A drenched undershirt clung to her soaking skin, revealing a black sports bra. Her nipples were hard, but all I could focus on was how pale she looked. How her lips were still not the right shade of pink. She needed to warm up. She needed to get these clothes off.
“I’m just shivering so much I’m struggling …” Her hands fumbled as she tried again to take off her pants.
I closed the remaining distance. “I’m just going to help you. I’m—I won’t look,” I explained, focused pointedly on the wall behind her.
She stiffened in my periphery.
“Is that okay?” I asked.
“Yeah—” She hesitated, then added another, “Yeah. Thanks.”
With jaw clenched and focus narrowed in on her bleeding knee, I knelt before her. I carefully tugged her pants the rest of the way off her hurt leg.
“Whoa.” She steadied herself with a hand on my shoulder as she switched feet to help me help her. I was kneeling between her legs, and it took all my focus not to look up and see what her face was doing at that moment. I especially wouldn’t pay attention to the shape of her calf, her creamy thighs, or the cute arch of her foot as it balanced on me. Kneeling before her like this, caring for her, it was clouding my mind.
I made the mistake of looking up to find her studying me, cheeks slightly pink, breathing shallow, and her brown eyes locked on me in this position of supplication.
I clenched my jaw, promising to punch myself if I got the slightest bit aroused right now.
But the room had grown stiflingly warm. Her skin under mine was soft despite the cold.
She reached down and pushed back a lock of soaked hair that was in my eyes. “You’re all wet too,” she whispered.
Her words seared down my spine, and I stilled my hands. I forced a hard swallow. After a beat, she let out an awkward huff of a laugh. “That sounded?—”
I looked up at her and forced myself to hold her gaze. “Is this going to be another ‘wood’ situation?” I asked lightly despite the heat burning in me, desperate to break the tension.
She bit her bottom lip and shook her head innocently. The dark look in her eyes, though?—
She stepped out of the other side, and I grabbed the pants and the soaking socks, tossing them with a loud splat in the direction of the dryer.
Head tucked, I stood and went behind her. “Arms up.” My voice rolled out deep and demanding.
She did as I instructed.
Slowly and carefully, in case she was hurt anywhere else, I lifted the hem of her shirt over her body. Chilled skin brushed against my knuckles. More goose bumps spread over her neck and shoulders. If I wrapped her in my arms, my hot skin would burn against her cold by contrast. I would warm her up so fast.
I wasn’t sure why I was naked in that fake scenario that flashed through my brain.
I added the shirt to the pile.
“Can you get your, uh?—”
“I can get my bra?—”
We both spoke at the same time, and she laughed awkwardly.
Thank God for small miracles.
Her arms wrapped behind her to undo the heavy snaps, and I spun to look away. I stacked the fresh set of clothes near the fire. I grabbed the wet pile and carried them to the laundry closet, taking my time and focusing on the task of starting the washer. Still without looking in her direction, I made my way to the kitchenette and turned on the electric kettle.
“I’m coming back,” I announced as I made my way to the bedroom/living room area with her hot cup of tea a few minutes later.
“’Kay. I’m dressed.”
Her hair was down, and she’d been running her fingers through it, leaning toward the fire as I stepped into the space. She snapped up, disappearing under her long sleeves.
“Feeling warmer?” I asked.
“Much. Thanks for, uh, helping me get out of those. And for finding me,” she said, seemingly exacerbated with herself for remembering everything.
The sweater I chose for her was too large, and the elegant slope of her shoulder was on display as she reached for the tea. I wanted to pull it up and insist she move to sit directly in front of the fire. But the color was high on her cheeks, and she smiled softly at me, just a little dimple showing. I averted my gaze so as not to be drawn in by those dimples when I noticed her breasts were easily defined through the soft fabric of the sweater I chose.
There was nowhere safe to look at her. She was too beautiful. Even the slightest glimpse and I risked a deadly amount of exposure to her beauty.
“Can I look at your leg?” I asked.
When she nodded, I rolled over the desk chair to make sure she’d still be in the direct warmth of the stove and gestured for her to sit. She set the tea down at her side after taking a satisfied sip. “Mmm, thank you.”
She perched her foot on my lap, and I knelt before her for the second time in a few minutes. She bent to pull up the pant leg of her sweatpants. My willpower to keep my gaze focused was a sand dune pulverized by crashing waves.
I held her calf in my hands, comforted to find the skin as warm as my own. My forefinger brushed the back of her knee, and she sucked in a breath.
“Sorry. Ticklish.” Her color had really returned now.
Heat rushed through me at her reactive sensitivity. I longed to run my hand farther up her thigh and see what happened.
I growled at myself to focus.
The gash on her knee was dirty but shallow. It was still bleeding slightly as her body warmed.
“Did you just growl?”
“I don’t like that you’re hurt,” I said smoothly .
“Ah. Well, me neither. But like I said, it’s not so bad. Mostly, I just feel?—”
I narrowed my eyes at her in a warning. I wasn’t going to hear any more of this talk about stupidity, and she took my warning for what it was. She sucked in her lips and reached again for her tea.
I cleared my throat. “I have a first-aid kit around here. Let me see.”
I stood quickly, and my head went fuzzy for a second as I spun in a circle, looking for it. It wasn’t in any of the usual places. I dug out my keys and went to the locked room, determined to finish helping her and get the hell out of there before I did anything stupid. Anything else.
I found the kit in the locked room and was halfway out when I realized what I had done. What was happening. Where I was.
I’d come in the house. Not only that, but I’d also been so focused on helping Claire that I went into the locked room before it even registered.
The truth of it rocked into me and took away my breath.
Claire
What the hell was happening?
My damp hair felt suffocating as I hauled it up off my neck and tugged this sweater away from my body to let some air in. The room was too hot. Ten minutes ago, I never thought I would know warmth again, but with Levi kneeling before me, those intensely handsome features twisted with focus the heat, it grew. And grew and grew.
As Levi left to explore for the first-aid kit, I slumped back, covering my face with mortification. Was it written all over my features what his touch was doing to me? It was just the brush of death that made my hormones or adrenaline or whatever take over.
I bit my lip, finding it swollen from the action, and looked at the ceiling when I remembered how my insides melted when he brushed the back of my knee. I didn’t even know I was sensitive in that spot. Kevin certainly never spent any time gently caressing my legs with focused tenderness to find out. Yet one graze of Levi’s finger and I gasped out, my insides clenching. Hopefully, he bought the ticklish excuse.
God, what was wrong with me? A man saves my life, and suddenly, his touches make my brain misfire. If my brain was even involved at this point.
Maybe he should just leave. Perhaps he was just too much for the small space, my space. This house ain’t big enough for us both.
Should I kick him out?
But then … I was enjoying this pampering, this being taken care of. I hadn’t even realized I was missing it until I experienced it. To be the focus of someone’s attention and worry that wasn’t related to me by blood was nice. It felt like security.
All at once, a cold dread filled me.
This wasn’t security. I didn’t know what this was and didn’t want to look at it too closely. I had just promised him I would stick to the rules, and I went and broke one on the same day.
I had to get him out of here and get back to work.
But when he returned from the extra room, I could already tell that my rushing him out wouldn’t be necessary. His face had done that thing. He went slack and pale like the first night. I knew it as sure as anything he was about to leave. His focus was somewhere else. At least I was fairly certain his shift in mood wasn’t about me anymore. Hopefully.
It was this place. It was why he tried so hard not to rent it out. How he hated being inside.
He set down the first-aid kit.
“I’m going to go,” he said, not meeting my gaze.
I bit my cheek to keep from asking what was wrong, to stop from prying.
Whatever was going on with him wasn’t my business. This wasn’t my life or world. I was passing through, and I’d already done enough damage.
“Okay,” I said softly.
He stood, the color still gone from his face. He wasn’t looking at me but seemed careful not to look around.
“Thank you,” I said again.
“You would have been fine,” he said, almost to the door.
“Probably,” I admitted. “But I appreciate you all the same.”
He nodded.
As his hand was on the door, he stopped moving, his back to me .
“I’m glad I could help,” he said. His stance had a set intensity like he battled to say more.
“Are you okay?” I meant, in general, from the rain and cold and the adrenaline rush of saving someone.
He didn’t take it that way. He thought I meant the shift in his mood. He shook his head. “It’s—It’s hard for me to be here. In this house.”
“Oh.” I was taken aback by his sudden honesty. “I’m sorry.”
“My mother lived here. This was her place. She was very ill at the end, and—” He shook his head, back still facing me. “It’s hard for me to be here,” he repeated.
His mother . He was grieving his mother. The missing piece explaining his mercurial temperaments slid into place. My heart stuttered in sympathy. I lost my mother over ten years ago, and I still ached for her every day.
“I just wanted you to know. This house, there’s a lot of memories here.” It was like he wanted to say more and make me understand something. His sadness was a heavy storm that blocked out whatever light had been trying to break through. How long had he been grieving? How was he handling his loss?
“That’s understandable,” I said.
“I’m sorry. I have to go.”
“Okay,” I repeated.
I clenched my fists to keep from getting up and reaching for him.
Instead, I focused on cleaning my wound and putting on the bandage. He snuck out so quietly that only the blast of cold air signaled his leaving.
It was silent after he was gone, except for the sloshing water of the washer and the crackle of the fire.
After several minutes of silence and processing what happened, I noticed the door to the mystery room was ajar. The room he’d normally left locked and explicitly told me to leave alone.
I could be bigger than my curiosity to learn more about this enigma of a man. I could wait for him to reveal more parts of himself to me. I wished I wasn’t so drawn to him. I wished that I could leave him be and respect his need for privacy without wanting to peel back his layers.
I had to respect his rules.
Right?