2. Elias
Elias
S he shakes the water from her hair and cinches my jacket tight at her waist, standing there like some sun-drenched goddess fallen out of the sky.
It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a woman out here.
Longer than I care to admit.
Not since my sister.
Out in these mountains, women don’t visit unless they’ve got a death wish—or a man worth braving the wild for. Between the mountain lions and the men who act worse than them, there’s danger behind every pine tree.
But this girl? She doesn’t seem scared of me.
She plants her hands on her hips, eyes blazing. Hazel, and catching the sunlight like an acorn still warm from the forest floor.
“Now,” she says, “are you going to tell me who took my pack?”
“…Your pack?”
She rolls her eyes and stabs a finger toward the river. “Yeah. My bag. My phone. My clothes.”
“…Your phone?”
She lets out a breath like she’s counting to ten.
“Look, I get that you’re really deep into character or whatever,” she says, gesturing vaguely at me. “But can you drop the act for a second? I need help. I?—”
“What character do you think I’m playing, exactly?” I ask, folding my arms across my chest.
She presses those full lips together in a hard line. I try not to picture her naked in the water again—but it’s not working. Her skin was wet and glinting, hair dark from the river, those sun-bleached ends clinging to her collarbone.
And even under my coat, her body is all soft curves and heat I haven’t tasted in years.
“What were you doing out here, anyway?” she asks, flustered, waving her arms. “I checked online before I came out, and the trail said?—”
“Online?”
“Oh my God.” She glares at me. “Can you please talk like a normal person?”
I eye her—barefoot, dripping, stubborn as sin—and try to figure out what the hell kind of woman just shows up out here like this. A lot of trappers wouldn’t mind finding her caught in a snare. She looks like something out of a story.
“You really didn’t see anyone else?” she asks. Her teeth graze her bottom lip.
“No, ma’am,” I reply. “Been checking my traps since dawn. You’re the first soul I’ve seen all day.”
“Dammit,” she mutters.
She’s got a mouth on her, that’s for sure. Not many women speak like that, especially not to a stranger. But then again, not many women strip down naked and swim in a mountain river, either.
“You got a place nearby?” she asks, lifting her chin like she expects me to answer. “I need to call my insurance company. Maybe they can send someone?—”
“I’ve got a cabin,” I say slowly. “Not far.”
I don’t mention how unsure I am about letting her inside. She’s clearly… off. At least, confused. And the last thing I need is more confusion in my life.
But I don’t move.
She scrambles up the bank, slips on a rock, curses. Blood streaks her heel.
“How far?” she asks, breathless.
“Half a mile.”
“Can you take me?”
I hesitate. I could say no. Should, probably.
But I wasn’t raised to leave a hurt woman alone in the woods.
“Sure,” I say, and offer her my hand. “Let me help?—”
“I can manage,” she snaps.
Stubborn, through and through.
She makes her slow, limping climb up the rocks. I watch, quiet, as she finally reaches me—panting, flushed, and glaring.
Her gaze sweeps the ridge. Her brows furrow. “Where’d the trail go? I was just on it before… Did I come up the wrong side or something?”
She looks around like the forest might rearrange itself for her.
Her voice trembles.
For all her fire, she’s shaken.
“I’ll walk you to my cabin,” I offer again. “I’ve got clothes.”
She whips around. “Is this your plan? Steal my stuff, leave me stranded, then drag me to your place like I don’t have a choice?”
I dip my head, voice low. “Ma’am, the first time I saw you was the first time you saw me.”
She pauses, clearly weighing her options. Not many.
“I’m not falling for it,” she mutters. “I’ll wait here until someone else comes by?—”
A low rumble of thunder cuts her off. She spins toward it, eyes wide.
Storm’s coming. Fast.
Half the reason I checked my traps early.
“Fine,” she says, crossing her arms. “Let’s go. I need to call someone.”
I don’t ask who. Or what a “call” means. I just slide my rifle to my back and start walking.
She follows, her footsteps crunching behind mine.
It’s been a long time since I walked this trail with anyone else.
Let alone a woman.
Let alone a woman like her.
But I keep my eyes forward.
Because right now, the only thing that matters is getting her inside before the storm hits.
And maybe—just maybe—figuring out what the hell she’s doing out here.