Wyatt
Rays of bright sunlight warm my face as a gentle breeze cools my sweat-dampened skin. I finished my chores and left dinner to simmer on the stove while I enjoy an easy stroll on a familiar path, plucking ripe blackberries and popping them in my mouth as I go.
My playful companion trots along with me, sniffing at everything we pass, despite having explored this area countless times before. We’ve lived on this mountain for a few years now, and our daily walks are the highlight of my husky’s day. I reach down to ruffle Bear’s fluffy fur, chuckling as he tilts his head and wags his tongue.
Breathing in the crisp forest air, I smile with gratitude for this simple yet fulfilling life. It's a drastic change from the hustle and bustle of the city, but I don't miss anything about my old life in Seattle.
The sun begins its descent, and an unexpected sound echoes off the trees. At first, I think it's a wounded animal, but when I listen closely, it’s a woman crying. My heart sinks as I hurry toward the sound, despite the increasing pain in my knee. Living alone in these isolated woods, I rarely encounter anyone else besides the occasional renter of a nearby cabin, out for a hike. Today, however, the tears of this unknown woman have drawn me out of my peaceful retreat.
I come to a clearing and spot her on the ground, her curly, dark hair falling around her in a curtain that shields her face from view. She’s removed her hiking boot and sock, staring at her right foot. When I approach, I see her ankle is swollen and bruised. No wonder she’s crying. I bet that hurts like hell.
Bear announces our presence with a bark, and the woman's head whips in our direction. Time stands still as my mouth gapes open. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. A fallen angel, right here on my property, with hazel eyes and flushed cheeks stained with her tears.
Despite my instant attraction, it’s wrong to ogle her when I know she’s in pain. Yet, I can’t stop my eyes from trailing down her body, and taking in her hourglass figure. I want to trace her curves with my mouth and my finger, but I force that thought away and focus on her immediate needs
“You okay?” I ask, holding up my palms to show her I mean no harm. I’m well over six feet, tall and broad, with muscles gained from hard labor. I don’t want her to be afraid of me, so I hunch my shoulders, attempting to appear smaller. There’s nothing I can do, however, about the scar running down my right cheek, cutting a harsh line through my trimmed beard. I know it looks scary, but I hope she doesn’t flinch away from me. That’s happened far too many times since my accident and it never stops feeling like a kick in the gut.
“W-Who are you?” she asks, her voice thick from crying.
“I’m , and this is Bear.” I tilt of my head toward the white ball of fluff sitting at my feet. “I live in the cabin just up the hill.”
“Molly,” she offers tentatively.
“Nice to meet you, Molly. What happened to your ankle there?”
Her brow wrinkles and her gaze shifts to her injured limb as she bites her lip. “I’m staying in a cabin nearby and thought a hike might be nice. I just got here yesterday, and wanted to look around. Somehow, I wandered off the main path and got turned around. Then my boot caught on a stupid tree root.” Her cute little chin wobbles as she holds back tears of frustration.
Fuck, I want her.
“It happens, sweetheart. Don’t be embarrassed.” The term of endearment rolls off my tongue as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, and it catches me by surprise. I haven’t called anyone sweetheart in ages, and even when I was engaged, Marissa preferred that I call her by her name.
“You out here alone?” Her eyes widen and it dawns on me how the question must sound to an injured woman, coming from a man who looks like a beast in a flannel shirt. “I swear, I’d never hurt you. I’m only asking if there’s someone you want me to call.” Her shoulders relax, but she still eyes me warily.
“No, I… There’s no one to call.” She forces the air from her lungs. “Besides, I left my phone back at the cabin.” I scowl, not liking her response and the potential danger she put herself in. I decide that’s a conversation we can have later, when I scold her on the importance of hiking safety. For now, I need to tend to her injury.
“It’ll be dark soon. Let’s get you inside and put some ice on that.”
“I don’t think I can walk.” Her voice sounds small and she frowns as a protective urge shoots through me. She knits her eyebrows together and glances around. “I’m not sure how to get back to my cabin, either.”
“I doubt you’ve hiked too far, which means you must be staying at the Thompsons’ place. It’s about two miles from here.” Her shoulders slump with defeat. “I’m just up the hill, less than a quarter of mile away. I’ll carry you back to my place.”
Her curls bounce when she shakes her head. “Oh, no. I can’t let you do that.”
“I don’t think you have a choice, honey. That ankle is swelling up pretty good. Not a chance you can make it back to your cabin.” Again, she glances at her foot and knows I’m right. “Come home with me where I can take care of you, then I promise you can be on your way.”
She worries her plump lower lip between her teeth. “Are you sure? I might be too heavy for you to carry me that far.”
I shoot her an offend look before flexing my bicep. “Woman, do you see these muscles? They ain’t just for show,” I tease her with a wink, earning me a relaxed smile. Then, I move toward her, not waiting for a response.
Crouching down, I lift her curvy, petite body into my arms, and she clings to me with her hands laced behind my neck. I can feel her body heat radiating against mine, igniting a flame of desire within me. As I carry her, she lets out a tiny moan of discomfort, deepening my need to shield and protect this gorgeous creature.
She peers up me with a watery smile. “Um… Thanks for rescuing me.” Being this close, I see the different shades of green and gold in her mesmerizing eyes. I’d get lost in them forever if she’d let me.
But that’s crazy. I just met this woman, and don’t know a damn thing about her. So, I look away, surveying our surroundings as I tote her back to my cabin.
“It’s beautiful up here,” Molly admits, marveling at the view. “Do you live here year-round?”
I nod, focusing on a log as I carefully step over it. For the brief moment that all of my weight is on my right leg, my knee buckles and there’s a sharp pain. I grit my teeth, tightening my grip on her and keep going.
“Everything’s so quiet. Last night was the best night’s sleep I’ve had in years. The combination of fresh, mountain air and the lack of noise was just what I needed.”
She continues to chat and I respond with short answers, bearing my pain in silence. I don’t want her to think I’m weak because of a bum leg, not that it should matter what a stranger thinks of me. Yet, for some reason, I want to make a good impression on her. I’d chalk it up to being damn near celibate for three years, but I know that isn’t the case. Molly sparks something intense inside me, something I’ve never felt before and I want to explore it.
I learn she hasn’t always been a city girl, and she grew up in the country in Montana. Wanting to hear more of her soothing voice, I prod, “How’d you end up in Seattle then?”
“My parents died in a car accident when I was a teenager, so I moved in with my grandmother. She lives in Seattle.” There’s a sadness in her tone that causes an ache in my chest. She doesn’t dwell on it, though, and before long, she’s chatting away again, shifting the subject to a lighter one.
Within a matter of minutes, I learn this beauty is warm and kind, the type of person who makes friends easily. I’m surprised by how open she’s being with me, since most people haven’t been like that after my accident. Not only is my size and physique intimidating, but my scar and limp make some uncomfortable. Those I thought cared about me the most—particularly, my ex-fiancé—regarded me as some kind of freak show, thinking I couldn’t hear their hushed snickers and cruel jokes.
I don’t like to think about that time in my life, so I focus on Molly’s words as she tells me how grateful she is that I found her. I glance at her face, so close to mine, and see nothing but sincere appreciation in her eyes.