Chapter 3 - Ruby
His arm feels like solid oak beneath my fingers. I can't remember the last time I felt so small next to someone, so completely dwarfed by another human being. Cole towers over me, his beard not quite hiding the sharp line of his jaw.
And I'm mortified to realize how much it affects me.
There's a heat spreading through me that has nothing to do with the fireplace or the cozy cabin. It starts low in my belly and radiates outward, making my heart beat faster and—oh god—creating a telltale dampness between my legs that makes me want to die of embarrassment.
What is wrong with me? I just met this man. He saved my life, offered me his bed, and here I am getting turned on by the simple act of him helping me walk. I'm pathetic.
"You okay?" His voice rumbles close to my ear, making me jump slightly. "You're flushed."
"Fine!" My voice comes out an octave higher than normal. "Just the warmth from the fire, I think."
He gives me a skeptical look but doesn't press. We make our way slowly across the cabin, my fingers gripping his forearm, trying desperately to focus on the pain in my ankle rather than the firmness of his muscles beneath my touch.
When we reach the bedroom door, he pushes it open to reveal a surprisingly neat space.
A large bed with a quilt that looks handmade dominates the room.
The furniture is simple but well-crafted, a dresser, a nightstand with a reading lamp, and a wooden chair in the corner with a book splayed open on it.
"Bathroom's through there if you need it," he says, nodding toward another door. "There are some clean t-shirts in the top drawer if you want something to sleep in."
I'm suddenly very aware that I'm wearing borrowed clothes—his clothes. After I passed out, he must have changed me out of my wet things. The thought makes my cheeks burn hotter.
"Did you...when I was unconscious..." I can't even form the question.
His expression shifts, eyes widening slightly before his face closes off again.
"I didn't look," he says gruffly. "I've had medical training. Treated you like a casualty. Got you out of the wet clothes, wrapped you in blankets, and got your core temperature up. That's it."
I believe him, though my embarrassment doesn't fade. "Thank you. I didn't mean to imply—"
"It's fine." He cuts me off, helping me sit on the edge of the bed. "You need anything else?"
Yes. No. Maybe. I don't know what I need. My brain feels scrambled, partly from the day's ordeal and partly from the confusing reaction my body is having to this stern, mysterious man.
"The pain medicine would be good," I say, focusing on practicalities.
He nods and disappears for a moment, returning with pills and a glass of water. Our fingers brush as he hands them to me, and there it is again—that jolt of electricity that shoots straight down my spine and settles between my thighs. I rub my legs together as I take the medication.
"Try to get some rest," he says, stepping back toward the door. "Yell if you need anything."
Then he's gone, closing the door quietly behind him, leaving me alone in his bedroom surrounded by his pine and woodsy scent. I flop back on the bed with a groan, covering my face with my hands.
What is happening to me? I'm not this person. I don't get instantly attracted to strangers. Especially not intimidating, clearly damaged strangers who live alone in the woods like some brooding hero from a gothic novel.
Yet here I am, my underwear embarrassingly damp, my heart racing whenever he looks at me with those intense hazel eyes.
Maybe it's just the adrenaline crash from nearly dying. Or maybe it's because he's the first man who's looked at me in longer than I care to admit. Not with the dismissive glances I got at work or the polite disinterest of the few dates I've managed to go on in recent years.
Cole sees me. I don't know what he thinks about what he sees, but there's no mistaking the intensity of his gaze.
I force myself to get up and limp to the bathroom, needing to splash cold water on my face and get a grip.
The bathroom is as basic as the rest of the cabin—functional, clean, nothing extra.
I look at my reflection in the small mirror over the sink and barely recognize myself.
My dark hair is a tangled mess, my cheeks flushed pink, and my eyes overly bright. I look feverish.
Maybe I am. Maybe this strange attraction is just some kind of hypothermia-induced delirium.
After using the toilet and washing up, I make my way back to the bed, my ankle throbbing with each step. I open the drawer he mentioned and find neatly folded t-shirts. I pull one out, soft and worn from many washings, and hold it to my face without thinking. It smells like him.
Okay, this is getting ridiculous.
I change quickly, shimmying out of the clothes he lent me earlier and pulling the t-shirt over my head.
It falls to mid-thigh, big enough to be a dress on me.
I leave my underwear on, though it's uncomfortably damp.
There's no way I'm sleeping naked in a stranger's bed, no matter how much my body seems to be reacting to said stranger.
I slide under the quilt, wincing as my ankle protests the movement. The bed is surprisingly comfortable, and I sink into it. My body is exhausted from the day's ordeal, but my mind races.
Who is Cole Davidson really? What drove him to live alone in the mountains for eight years? He mentioned the military—Special Forces—and there's definitely something haunted in his eyes. I think about his clipped answers, his wariness, the way he holds himself like he's always expecting an attack.
PTSD, maybe? I'm no expert, but I've read enough to recognize the signs. The isolation, the hypervigilance, the control he seems to maintain over his emotions.
Whatever his demons are, they've driven him far from civilization. Yet he didn't hesitate to help me. He could have left me in the snow or dropped me at his doorstep once I was conscious. Instead, he's given me food, shelter, even his bed.
I roll onto my side, pulling the quilt tighter around me. Outside, the wind still howls, but in here, I'm safe. Protected. All because of a man who seems determined to have nothing to do with the world yet saved me without question.
My body finally begins to relax as the medicine takes effect, dulling the pain in my ankle. As I drift toward sleep, my last conscious thought is of hazel eyes watching me with an intensity that makes me throb in places that have never throbbed before.