Chapter 3 #2
He wiggled one of his legs between hers, their height disparity enough that he pulled her head onto his shoulder. Then he did exactly what she’d said.
Made sure as much skin as possible was touching.
The edge of her breast, the part spilling out of her bra, was against his pec. His arms encircled her under the thick down comforters. Her nose pressed into his neck, the scent of Moore filling her with a delicious, precarious feeling.
Sure, she might be dying, but she wasn’t dead yet, and the tingle between her legs made it clear that some parts of her might have been out of use for a while and a little rusty, but they were still very much alive.
If a bit neglected.
Of all the times to be aroused, this one was terrible. Terrible in so many ways, but the worst was the sense of duty she detected in Moore.
He wasn’t naked and pressed against her because he wanted her.
He was doing this to save her life.
“Well, this is awkward,” she said, her lips against the pulse at the base of his throat.
“Is it? I hadn’t noticed.” A vibration of laughter in his ribs sounded like gemstones in the polisher in the back of his family’s store.
“Thank you,” she said. The skin pressed against him began to feel like rug burn, a faint pain and sensitivity she knew she’d just have to bear.
Nothing was going to help. No first aid kit could get her through this.
They were likely stuck here for the night, until town crews cleared the side roads like the one she’d crashed on, found the truck, and began a search.
In the morning, Moore might be able to go back to the truck and find a cellphone, but what were the chances it would be dry?
Or have survived through a frozen night?
Control was one aspect of life that Colleen had well in hand. Nothing like her future sister-in-law, Rachel, whose visceral need for control made her a fantastic business development director for their small town and a great match for her laid-back partner, Colleen’s brother Kell.
In Colleen’s view of the world, you controlled what you could and gave in to the rest.
Reality asserted itself, like it or not, and Moore and Colleen were in the thick of reality, all right.
And speaking of thick, was that, uh… Moore?
“Hey. Don’t fall asleep on me,” he muttered into her hair. “What do I need to do to help you?”
“Help us both. We should drink warm liquid.”
“I prefer mine in the form of rum.”
“Start with some tea or just warm water, Moore. We can hit the hard stuff later.”
“Later? You’re talking about the future, so I’m guessing you don’t plan to die in my arms?” The way he squeezed her, almost imperceptibly, made her heart swell.
Her chest stopped hurting.
“My skin feels like the worst rug burn ever, my mouth is dry as cotton, and I’m stuck in bed with the naked man who is responsible for my terrible nickname. If I’m going to die, it won’t be like this. I’m going to survive just to spite you, Moore.”
“I’ll take you however I can get you.”
At his words, she looked up, his mouth close to hers, their eyes connecting with a sudden seriousness.
None of this could be real. It was post-car-crash, post-hypothermia talk. Absurd for her to think he was actually attracted to her, right?
He’d had nineteen years to say something. If he hadn’t said it before, it was because he didn’t feel it.
She must be loopy from the trauma and shock of what happened.
As if on cue, her bladder announced its presence.
Which really sucked, because her limbs needed to work better before she reached this point. No way was she asking Moore for help going to the bathroom, if this cabin even had a bathroom. With any luck, there was a composting toilet indoors, but otherwise, this was outhouse territory.
One look at the window, the gap in the curtains showing the wind whipping snow at the structure, and she rethought.
Hush, she told her body. Not yet.
Medically, though, this was heartening. It meant her kidneys were working and her body was processing liquids. The trained nurse in her sighed with relief.
Cardiac issues were less of a worry now.
“Colleen,” he whispered, voice choked with emotion. “You nearly died. And it was all my fault.”
“Your fault?” she squeaked, stroking his arm. “No! I lost control of the truck. I should have let you drive when you offered.”
“You’re a fine driver. No one could handle that road.”
Wind whistled sharply outside, as if proving his point.
“You saved me, Moore. You rescued me. I was stuck and panicking, and I couldn’t breathe, and the water was so cold. Then I felt your hand.” Her fingers brushed the back of his left one, the tendons strong, his fingers long and elegant.
“I needed a knife. If I’d had a knife, I could have cut you loose.”
“You did fine.”
“No–you did fine! You guided my hand to the seatbelt clip.”
“And you set me free.”
A shudder ran through her, followed by a cold bite across some of her nerves. As her body awoke, it was going to hurt like hell.
Pain never felt so good.
She looked at him again, his eyes closed, the lines of his face so familiar. Neatly-trimmed beard, dark hair, warm eyes, long lashes. His son, Jordy, was a mix of the Mottins and the Forsythes, but Moore was a carbon copy of his father, Leander.
Much younger, and much sexier, though.
Being in his arms, talking about what had just happened, the thrill of his skin against hers, was all too real. A wave of exhaustion rippled through her and she yawned.
“You can’t fall asleep on me,” he said again in a firm voice that rumbled against her shoulder, his beard tickling her skin. “Not yet.”
“That wasn’t a hypothermia yawn. That was an exhaustion yawn.” The fact that she felt the scrape of hair on her neck was a great sign.
“Good. I don’t ever want to hear the word hypothermia again. How’s your chest?”
Said chest was currently pressed against his, parts of her breasts snuggled in nicely against his ribs.
“Um, fine?”
“I meant the pain you were experiencing.”
A deep breath, long and slow, meant to fill her lungs and belly as full as possible, made her realize the extent of her shoulder injury. The sharp pulling back from the inhale was a sign that she would need an orthopedic consult when they got back to Luview.
Before she could answer him, an enormous wave came over her, a teeth-clenching shiver, her neck going tense and stretched.
Then her elbow. Her knee.
Like a conductor directing a symphony, different pieces of her activated and shivered, tensing to the point of excruciating tightness, then slumped. Moore squeezed her tighter, then loosened his hold.
“Are you–what’s going on?”
“My body is waking up.” Pins and needles filled her toes, then feet, the sense unbearable. She sucked in air, trying to settle her nervous system.
And failing.
As she shivered, twitching and slumping in a syncopated rhythm, Moore curled his fingers in and released her.
“What should I do?”
“I need that warm tea now. And a bathroom.”
“Can you even walk?” he asked, incredulous.
“I don’t know, but I do know I’m naked under a down comforter with you, feeling like something out of a Monty Python skit, and I’ll be damned if I’ll pee the bed!”
Moore released her, tucking the blankets around her again as she began more full body shivers, moving quickly around the little cabin. He disappeared around a corner and she heard, “Aha!”
“What?”
“Composting toilet.”
“I’ll take it!”
“Do you need help getting up?”
“I need that warm tea first. Bladder second.”
“Always triaging, aren’t you?”
As her jaw and neck clenched, she couldn’t answer. Prickly feelings took over her dormant body parts, skin feeling like it alternated in patches between sticking to her like dead duct tape and floating three inches away, separated by millions of moving ants.
Coming out of hypothermia sucked.
Compassion rushed through her as she remembered the handful of patients she’d had who were in various stages of it. At Luview Medical Center, she’d had a team, equipment, warmers, ventilators–every modern medical advancement in place to help.
And a medevac helicopter in case they needed a trauma center elsewhere.
Here? Here, she had a down comforter, a wood stove, some rum, and the best possible medicine–
Moore.
Who appeared in his underwear, patting her calf with two firm taps that made her shriek.
“Blood flow! Hooray!”
“Don’t touch my legs! They’re pins and needles.”
A gleam in his eye nearly made her laugh.
“Remember when we were kids, how we’d sit cross-legged and make our legs fall asleep, then drag ourselves up and down the hallway of your old house?”
“We only did that on snow days.”
A meaningful glance at the window accompanied his reply.
“Well. This one counts.”
With that, he went to the kitchen and rummaged around, muttering.
“I was right. Propane.” The familiar tick tick tick of a gas burner coming on filled the air.
“They didn’t shut off their line?”
“Apparently not! We’re lucky. Or they were just here last weekend. Who knows? Matches,” he muttered, searching the drawers. Quickly, he walked to the woodstove and found them, then went back to the kitchen.
A plume! sound, followed by his shout of joyful success, made her smile.
And need to pee even more.
Toes firing away like a faulty spark plug, she groaned as she moved her legs. Assessing her body, she took note:
No more chest pain.
Shivering had definitely kicked in.
Pins and needles sucked.
Her bladder was okay for now.
“Make the tea warm! Not too hot!”
She heard the distinct sound of cabinet searching.
“All I’m finding is coffee. Instant.”
“I don’t want the caffeine now,” she replied.
“Ugh!” He held up an ancient, battered cardboard box. “And licorice tea.”
They had a running joke about how awful that stuff was.
“I may be half dead, but I won’t drink that. Just warm water, then.”
The bang of metal on metal was her answer. “Heating it up now. No running water, but there’s a five-gallon tank here. I’ll boil it, then add some cold water or even snow.”
“You gourmet, you.”