Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
NICHOLAS
I must be hearing things.
But then, the knock sounds again, more forcefully this time.
What the hell? No one ever comes up here.
I rise from my seat near the fire and walk toward the door, grabbing hold of my rifle propped beside it.
You can never be too careful.
My eyes widen when I pull open the heavy oak door. The last thing I expected during a freak snowstorm was a bedraggled woman shivering on my stoop. “What in the world?”
“Hi,” she manages, her teeth chattering. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but I got lost in the woods and Walter said I wouldn’t reach my cabin before the storm arrived, so he led me here.”
“Who’s Walter?”
And more importantly, why would he lead anyone here?
“A man I ran into on the trail. He knew exactly how to get here, but then … he disappeared.” She glances over her shoulder into the blustery night. “I don’t know where he went.”
She can’t honestly believe I’m buying this cockamamie story. “You’re telling me some random man led you to my house in the middle of a blizzard and now he’s disappeared?”
“I know how it sounds?—”
And then I realize—the reason behind her sudden appearance. Over the last few weeks, investment companies have bombarded me with calls and letters, offering me all sorts of money to sell my land.
Seems they decided to up the ante and throw a damsel in distress my way, hoping she might sweet talk her way into a deal. Well, my sympathy meter is busted, and she’s about to find that out the hard way.
“You’re one of those real estate investors, aren’t you?” I scoff, shaking my head. “I don’t know how to make this any clearer, but I’m not interested in selling, so you better get off my property before I call the law. This mountain is mine.”
As I push the door shut, she wedges her boot in the space. “Then call them. I’m not some investor, just a stupid woman who got lost in a storm. So please, if you won’t let me in, call the police.”
God help her if she’s lying to me.
But I’m not a monster, so leaving her to freeze isn’t an option.
“Hell,” I mutter, yanking open the door. “Come on.”
She trudges inside, bringing an avalanche of flurries with her. “Thank you.”
I eye her suspiciously, still not convinced she’s some random traveler. “What are you doing all the way out here?”
The woman shoves a hank of wet hair from her eyes. “Looking for peace. For purpose.”
“Did you find it?”
A giggle rises from her chest, and it might be the sweetest sound I’ve heard in years. “Does it look like it?”
A smile quirks the corners of my mouth as I shake my head and motion to the coat rack. “Get your wet gear off. Especially your boots.”
“Best idea ever.” She squats down, but her fingers fumble with the laces. “Too damn cold.”
“Here. Let me help.” I work loose the laces on her boots and pull them off. “These are not waterproof.”
“I noticed. Look, I’m a stupid city slicker who knows nothing about the wilderness, except how to get lost in it. Apparently, I’m full of stupid ideas.”
I know the feeling.
“You’re soaked through,” I reply, motioning to her jeans. “You need to take it all off.”
Her brown eyes widen at my request. “Excuse me?”
I chuckle at her horrified expression. “That sounded terrible, but you need to get out of these clothes.”
“That didn’t sound much better,” she murmurs, managing a giggle through her shivers.
“How about this, then? There’s the bathroom. Get in the shower and warm up. I’ll find you some clothes in the meantime.”
“One condition.”
My brows raise at her offbeat reply. “You’re setting parameters now? Last time I checked, you showed up at my door.”
She buries her face in her hands, but I see the pink coloring her cheeks. “I insist upon knowing my gallant rescuer’s name.”
“Nicholas Whitaker.”
“Avery Winslow. Thank you for living out here in the middle of nowhere.”
I realize I’m grinning again, which feels simultaneously foreign and right. How long has it been since someone has made me smile? Damn near figured I’d forgotten how. “You’re welcome. Now go, before you catch pneumonia.”
After pointing her toward the bathroom, I head for my closet. Avery is a tiny woman, so my clothes will swim on her, but I could give her … some of Courtney’s clothes. They’re about the same size.
No bigger than a minute, as my father-in-law used to say.
Swallowing against the lump in my throat, I pull open the far side of the closet. I never touch these drawers. Never lay a hand on the fabrics folded neatly within them.
I grab out a pair of sweats, my hands shaking as I hold the pieces to my nose and breathe in, desperate for some remaining hint of Courtney, that vanilla lotion she used religiously.
But all I smell is the cedar from the closet and a faint hint of detergent.
Nothing left of Courtney. Not anymore.
Shaking off the malaise, I push open the bathroom door and leave the clothes on the vanity sink. “Sorry for the intrusion, but I’ve got some clothes for you.”
Avery’s head peeks out from the shower curtain, looking far healthier than when she first arrived. Far prettier, too. “You’re the best. I’ll be out in a second. This water feels like heaven.”
“Take your time.” I mean it, too. This gives me a chance to grab a shot of whiskey and figure out what the hell I’m supposed to do with this woman.
After a few swallows of the amber liquid, I stroll to the window. The snow shows no signs of stopping and it’s a fool’s errand to risk both our lives on the snowmobile, although I’m very curious about her supposed friend.
Maybe she was delusional from the cold and imagined him? Not beyond the realm of possibility. Locals have reported far stranger things in the woods around here.
“That was the best shower of my life.”
I pivot and catch sight of Avery in the doorway, drying her blonde curls with a towel, a smile of satisfaction on her lips.
For a moment, I forget how to speak.
Maybe it’s seeing Courtney’s clothes on another woman. Hell, maybe it’s seeing another woman.
A woman that’s causing a strange feeling deep in my belly.
“Feel better?” I choke out, trying desperately to maintain my gaze on PG rated locations, a difficult undertaking considering how obvious Avery’s curves are beneath the cotton fabric.
Avery nods and closes the distance between us. Then she takes the glass of whiskey from my hands and helps herself to a sip. “Now it’s a good night.”
“You could have asked for a glass.”
“Much more fun stealing yours.” Her eyes lock onto mine, dark and luminous beneath thick lashes.
I need her to stop looking at me like that.
Wait, is she even looking at me like that?
Fuck, I’m out of practice with women, not that I ever had any skill to begin with. Never needed it, since Courtney and I grew up together. We walked each other through our first steps, kindergarten, homecoming—every journey we took together.
At least, until she took a journey I couldn’t follow.
“So, Nicholas, you live here alone?”
Avery’s words break into my morbid self-reflection. “I do. Prefer it that way.”
I expect an argument to my statement, but she simply nods and walks to the fireplace, kneeling on the hearth. “Sometimes it’s easier, isn’t it?”
“What’s that?”
“Living alone instead of pretending we know what to do with people.”
Talk about an off-the-cuff response. “You live alone, too?”
“No. Well, yes. I do now.”
“What happened?” And why do I care?
She studies the flames, as if searching for answers. “He wasn’t meant for me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, at least not for me. It’s my fault. I believe in this supreme, smack you in the face kind of love that probably doesn’t exist. No doubt I’ve ruined many a good relationship in search of it.”
I hunker down next to her, offering her another sip of my whiskey. “Your personal holy grail, huh?”
“Exactly. But that’s not why you live alone.”
It’s not a question. She speaks the words as if she knows my history, and I’m unsure if that makes me worried or grateful.
“No. That’s not my reason.”
Another nod, before resuming her staring contest with the fire. No prodding or forcing answers.
Just acceptance.
“I have to head back out,” Avery says, rising to her feet.
“Are you crazy? It’s snowing like mad, and you just got warm.”
“I know, but my friend is out there somewhere. What if he’s hurt?”
I rub a hand along my bearded jaw. “This Walter character.”
“Yes. He saved me. I can’t just leave him out there. But you’ve been amazing for helping me. I’d have frozen for sure.”
“You still will if you go back out there. Oh, hell,” I mutter, popping to my feet and heading for the door.
“Where are you going?”
With a grunt, I shrug on my coat and hat before pulling open the front door. A blast of air sweeps into the cabin’s interior. Glancing back at Avery, I offer her a reassuring smile. “I’ll be back. I’ll go look for your friend.”
“I can’t ask you to do that.”
“Not giving you a choice. If I had to wager on me getting lost and you getting lost— again— sorry, love, but I’m betting on you. Relax and watch a movie.”
She catches her lower lip between her teeth before crossing the room to where I’m standing. Then she grasps the lapels of my coat, rises on tiptoe, and presses a soft kiss to my mouth. “Please be careful and hurry home. It’s bad out there.”
And I’m having trouble speaking again.
“Uh-huh.” It’s all I can manage and even that is a struggle.
The feel of her lips against mine, even for that instant, sends a rush of feeling through me.
If Avery notices my reaction to the kiss, she hides it well. With a small wave, she slips back toward the warmth of the fire, while I head out to my snowmobile, rifle by my side. I don’t mention that her ‘friend’ is more likely a poacher or squatter—and neither is welcome on my land.
I ride along the trails surrounding the cabin for a couple of miles, but there’s no sign of anyone. Even the woodland creatures are hunkered down tonight, and any tracks have long vanished beneath the snowdrifts.
Looks like my unexpected visitor is either lying or seeing things, although she seemed genuinely concerned for this man’s well-being.
I still don’t know how Avery wound up at my door, considering I’m a couple miles up the mountain, but I’m glad she’s here.
No, it doesn’t make any sense, and I know nothing of the woman, but for the first time in forever, I look forward to going home.
I pull back into the drive, the warm interior lights reflecting through the window.
Shaking off the snow, I push open the front door.
But I stop dead in my tracks at the doorway to the kitchen. “What in the world are you doing?”