2. Weston
2
WESTON
Night is falling as I head back to my cabin, hauling the last sack of wood over my shoulder. The storm last night left toppled trees all over the place, and I’ve spent all day chopping them up and carrying the pieces home. I’ll keep some of them and sell the rest as firewood or chippings. I don’t need the money—not with the income I get from my rental cabins—but the physical activity keeps me occupied. Stops me thinking too much.
As I walk, I spy the warm glow of windows up ahead, illuminating the gloom of the forest. It’s one of my rental cabins, shrouded deep in the trees. Shadows are moving around inside as I stride past the white truck parked out front. I can’t remember who’s staying in this one right now. I never meet the guests if I can help it, but no doubt they’re skiers, hikers, or honeymooners.
The cabins are pretty hands-off. There are six total, all dotted around Cherry Mountain. My brother Dane and I own three each—our parents left us in charge of them when they retired to Florida a few years back. We get people in to clean the cabins, but otherwise, there’s not much to do besides email guests the code to the key box outside. If there’s a problem, my own cabin isn’t far, but things are typically pretty quiet, and that’s just how I like it. It leaves me free to spend my time roaming the woods and mountains. After the confines of the Navy, I enjoy the freedom.
I leave the rental cabin far behind me, following the familiar path toward home. I don’t need sunlight to get me there. Cherry Mountain is where I grew up, and I know every inch of this forest—every tree, creek and waterfall. I could navigate these woods with my eyes closed, but turns out I don’t need to. The rising moon is full and bright overhead, and its light filters through the canopies, turning everything silver.
I’m only about a mile away from my cabin when I stop in my tracks. My ears prick up. I swear I heard something. A cry, a keening sound off in the distance.
A wounded animal?
I breathe as quietly as possible, waiting to hear it again so I can pinpoint where it’s coming from. But the forest is silent. All I can hear is the blood pulsing in my ears…
There!
Adrenaline shoots through me when I hear the noise again. That’s no animal. Someone is screaming for help. I race toward the sound, dodging the thick tree trunks and leaping over a bubbling creek.
“HELP!”
The sound is louder now. A woman’s voice, hoarse and broken, as though she’s been screaming for a long time. I run faster.
“Stay where you are!” I shout. “I’m coming!”
The voice regains strength. “HELP! I’M OVER HERE!”
I follow the sound to the very edge of the forest, bursting out of the trees. A rocky slope rises up away from me, and at the bottom sits a girl with her arms wrapped around herself, shivering. The moonlight illuminates her pretty heart-shaped face, and I almost stumble backward. She’s beautiful. Her deep blue eyes blink up at me, red rosebud lips parting slightly. Her hair brushes her shoulders like a sheet of black silk, and as she gingerly pushes herself up to her feet, my gaze flickers to her thick curves. Every inch of her is plump and thick as hell, and my head spins as I take her in, my nerves buzzing to life.
“Fuck.” When I see the scratches all over the girl’s hands, I come back to my senses with a jolt of concern. “Are you okay? What happened?”
“I fell,” the girl says, pointing at the slope behind her.
Her words alarm me. The slope isn’t all that steep, but it’s rocky and the edge is pretty damn high up. If it had been any steeper, this girl probably wouldn’t be here to tell me about it.
“Where are you hurt?” I ask.
She grimaces. “My wrist. And my knees ache like crazy, too.”
I reach into my back pocket and pull out a flashlight, shining it over her wrist. “Can you move it?”
She bends it back and forward slightly, letting out a hiss of breath. “Yes, but it hurts.”
Her wrist is swollen, but judging by how much she can move it, I don’t think it’s broken. More likely sprained. You get to know these things when you live out in the wilderness. I’ve broken more damn bones than I can count.
“What about your knees?” I ask.
“I can still walk, so I don’t think they’re hurt too bad.” She bends each leg and straightens it again, her brow furrowed. “Not broken. I think they just ache because I fell on them so hard.”
Relief slows my pounding heart as I examine her. A sprained wrist and some cuts and bruises are a small price to pay for such a big fall.
“How long you been down here?” I ask.
She reaches into the pocket of her jeans and pulls out a cracked phone to check the time.
“Just over two hours. Feels like longer.”
In the light of her phone and my flashlight, I can see her outfit more clearly. Jeans and a white blouse, torn up from her fall. Fuck, the way she fills out her clothes is sexy as hell…
But that’s not the damn point.
She has no water bottle, no bag, no coat or waterproof clothing. The heeled pumps on her feet are made for walking around shopping malls, not forests.
A city girl.
I feel a flicker of annoyance. She’s insanely unprepared to be walking out here in the mountains. Hell, if I hadn’t heard her screams, she could easily have died of hypothermia overnight.
“What were you thinking, walking around out here with no supplies?” I grumble. “You have any idea what might have happened?”
I shouldn’t be giving her a hard time right now, but dammit, my stomach is in knots when I think about how much worse it could have been.
“Well, I wasn’t planning to walk around out here,” the girl says. “I only got out of the car for a second to take a photo.”
I grit my teeth, running a hand over my face. “You city folk. Always getting yourself into trouble out here trying to take photos for Instachat?—”
“Insta gram ,” the girl counters, her pretty blue eyes flashing defiantly. “Look, I just fell down a dang cliff, and I’ve been shouting for help for the past two hours, so can you spare me the lecture?”
“I—”
“And anyway,” she cuts me off with a glare, “who says I’m from the city?”
“I do.”
She lets out a huff of disbelief. “I might live ten minutes away from here for all you know.”
“Do you?”
“No, I live in Denver, but that’s not the point?—”
I hold up my hands in surrender, my irritation softening at the adorable frown on her face. “Listen, Miss Denver, I’m not trying to lecture you. It just freaks me out thinking about what would have happened if I hadn’t heard you calling. You gotta take care of yourself out here.”
She sighs. “I was taking care of myself. Maybe I didn’t have to get so close to the edge for my photo?—”
“Maybe you didn’t.”
“—but how was I meant to know the ledge would crumble like that?”
I make a noise in my throat. “You’re alive to tell the tale. That’s the main thing. But next time you feel like taking photos, don’t do it on the edge of a cliff.”
She opens her mouth to retort, but seems to think better of it. “Well, I guess I can’t argue with that advice.”
“Just trying to keep you safe, Miss Denver.”
My heart spasms as she holds my gaze for a beat too long.
“Well…thanks. And it’s Audrey, by the way.”
“Weston.” I gesture toward the forest. “My cabin is about a mile that way. Think you can walk that far?”
“Yeah, I think so.” Her lips curve into a small smile. “Thanks, by the way. For coming when I called.”
“Don’t mention it.”
I hand her my flashlight and guide her through the woods, looking back every few seconds to make sure she’s keeping close. Now that I know she’s okay and the shock of finding her has worn off, I can’t ignore the crazy way my body is reacting to having Audrey near me. I can smell her sweet perfume, feel the light brush of her arm against mine, and all I want to do is turn around and take her in all over again—that pretty face, those luscious curves. She’s so damn beautiful, and now she’s coming home with me. It will be just the two of us, holed up in the warmth of my cabin, hidden away in the woods.
Fuck, keep it together.
Audrey looks like she’s barely into her twenties, half my damn age at least. Not to mention, she just survived a life-threatening experience. The last thing she needs is an old grump like me acting like a creep. I shouldn’t be thinking about her body. I should be focused on nothing but getting her back to my cabin and patching her up. She said she fell when she got out of her car to take a picture, so in the morning, I’ll head out with my truck to find the vehicle and tow it back to my cabin. Then she’ll be free to continue her journey to wherever she was headed.
“Ow!”
I whip around as Audrey lets out a pained sound. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, sorry.” She lets out a deep breath. “I’m fine.” But I can see the pain in her face.
“Is it your knees?”
She shrugs. “They just twinge a little…”
I stop walking, and before Audrey can protest, I scoop her into my arms, bridal-style, ignoring her indignant squeal.
“This really isn’t necessary?—”
“I’m not letting you walk when you’re in pain, Audrey.”
Her body is soft against my chest, and my heart is pounding so hard that I’m sure she must be able to feel it. Blood rushes downward, my cock stirring.
Fuck.
I can smell Audrey’s shampoo, like raspberries and cream, and it takes all my concentration to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
“Thanks, Weston,” she says eventually, her voice full of gratitude.
My name on her lips is like heaven, and I take a shuddering breath.
“You’re welcome.”
I feel her relax against me, and when I spot my cabin between the trees, I feel a twinge of disappointment knowing I’ll have to set Audrey down soon. I love holding her in my arms. It feels right somehow, like I’m meant to protect her, keep her close to me. There’s no logic to it. She’s a stranger, a pretty little city girl who will soon be out of my life for good. But as I carry her toward my front door, the moonlight shining down on us, I can’t help wishing I could keep her in my arms a little longer.