2. Georgia
Chapter Two
GEORGIA
A clunking noise disturbs me as I’m painting the porch.
Oh no.
Is it the bear the store manager warned me about? I haven’t had time to put the spray around the property. I freeze, senses on high alert.
The sound is coming from the other side of the dilapidated cabin. Despite the heat, a cold chill runs up my spine and prickles the back of my neck. There’s a crash as the garbage can falls over. I’m not going to make it around the porch and inside if a bear comes charging around the side of the cabin.
Instinctively, I put my foot up on the porch railing and pull myself up so I’m clutching onto it. There’s a roof post next to me. The ledge sticking from the side might give me just enough of a foothold to get up onto the roof.
If I’m quick. And the ledge doesn’t break.
I heave myself up onto the roof, tearing one of the sleeves of my blouse. Darn. This is one of my favorites. I raise my hand to my mouth, chewing on my thumbnail.
Even though the sun is low in the sky, it’s still so hot that the roof feels like lava on my bare hands. I twist over onto my butt, hugging my arms around my bunched-up knees. A trickle of sweat rolls down my cheek.
Why am I doing this? I could be back home listening to Mom and Dad bicker over which show to watch. Settle back into the familiar, tedious pace of the day. Write in my diary, sew napkins for the store, watch a show, browse the internet to waste time until sleep. Boring, but safe. Instead, I’m on a roof on the side of a mountain hiding from a bear.
Or bears.
I gulp. What if there’s more than one? Can bears climb?
There’s another crash, closer this time, and I take a deep breath. There’s nothing up here I could use to defend myself. There’s also a worrying-looking large hole right by the chimney. Maybe I could make it inside that way. But what if the bear follows me in?
An engine rumbles on the road. A big red truck turns into the long driveway that leads to my cabin and I start waving.
“Help!” I shout, even though I’m sure they can’t hear me. What if the driver gets out and the bear attacks them? The truck heads up the driveway and I flap my hands more frantically. The movement almost sends me flying off the edge of the roof and I grab onto the tiles to stop myself falling. A nail punctures the soft flesh between my thumb and pointer finger, and I wince.
Ouch.
The truck parks and I raise my other hand to shade my eyes against the still bright sun. I suck in my breath as the guy who gets out stands up. He’s hugely tall, with bulging muscles only barely contained in a plaid shirt with rolled-up sleeves. Those are the kind of muscles made from working outside all day, not lifting weights in a gym. Black hair, thick beard, broad shoulders; this man looks like he’s at home in these mountains.
My bleeding hand and the bright sun, plus all the adrenaline from scrambling to escape from the bear, makes me a little dizzy.
“Help!”
His eyes trail up to the roof and he strides over.
“What are you doing up there?” His voice is so deep it sends a thrill through me.
“Be careful! I think there’s a bear on the other side of the cabin!”
His face breaks into a smile. “Is that so?”
“I heard it hunting in my trash. That’s why I’m up here. Maybe you should get in your truck?” My voice sounds like it’s coming from far away.
“You stay right there, ma’am. I’ll go check.”
“Wait! I have some bear repellant in the house.”
He sets his hands on his hips, throws back his head and laughs. It’s a booming noise that seems to echo off the mountains. He shakes his head, still chortling, as he walks slowly around the cabin.
I hold my breath. What if he gets eaten? Why is he so unworried? Does he have a gun hidden somewhere inside that plaid shirt? Sweat rolls down my spine and I cradle my injured hand against my chest. This wasn’t how I pictured my first week at the cabin. I thought I’d be doing some minor repairs and then setting up my studio, not trying to evade wild animals and hurting myself.
My rescuer walks back around the side of the cabin with a large raccoon on his shoulder. It has one hand resting on his thick hair and it’s staring at me with a curious expression in its beady little eyes.
“Ma’am. Meet Albert.”
“Albert?”
“I named him after Einstein. This is the smartest critter in Snowflake Falls. Roams all over these woods, but usually finds himself back at my house often enough. Rescued him when he was just a kit.”
I shake my head. “So this is your fault. I mean, he’s your responsibility.”
The man laughs. “Nope. Albert’s actions are absolutely his own responsibility.”
I breathe out. “At least he’s not a bear. Thank you. I’m Georgia, by the way.”
“Declan Connor. And I know who you are.” He’s staring at me steadily, despite the bright sunshine.
Maybe I should be cautious. What is he doing out here at my cabin anyway? “You do?”
“Saw you in the hardware place. That fool who sold you the bear repellent is going to give you your money back. He’s a weasel.”
I stare down at him. “You came up here to tell me that? How do I know I can trust you?”
“You can always trust a man with a tame racoon on his shoulder, ma’am. Rule number one of these mountains.”
Despite myself, my lips quirk upwards into a grin. There’s something about the confident way he’s gazing up at me, legs spread wide and hands on hips that feels right. Dependable, almost, even if he’s a little wild-looking with that big beard.
“Have you hurt yourself?” Declan frowns.
“A little. I cut my hand trying not to fall off the roof.” He must think I’m an idiot.
“Shimmy down here and let me take a look.” He crouches down and the racoon jumps off his shoulder and runs toward his truck.
I scoot my butt down, holding my hand against my chest. “Did you say your last name was Connor? My aunt mentioned she gets her firewood from someone called Connor.”
He nods, walking up to the porch. “That’ll be Callan, my cousin. There’s a bunch of us up here. You could say the woods are full of Connors. Is this your aunt’s place?”
I shake my head. “No, it’s mine. My aunt told me about it and it was in my price range. It’s more decrepit than it looked from the realtor photos, though.”
When I reach the edge of the roof, I panic a little. I can’t see the ledge on the post that I used to get up here. And now my hand’s injured, I’m going to have to get down one-handed. My stomach lurches.
“It’s okay, honey. Dangle your legs over the side and jump. I’ll catch you.”
“No way. I’m too heavy.”
“I promise I’ll catch you. My nickname in the army was SureShot. Never missed a target or dropped precious cargo when the stakes are high.”
I laugh, my stomach fluttering. My hand is throbbing and I’m a little faint. I can’t stay up here. My legs dangle off the edge.
“Are you ready, Declan?” I squeeze my eyes shut. Maybe it’s better if I don’t look.
“Always.”
For a second, I’m falling through the air before his big, strong arms catch me effortlessly. Up close, his scent is a mix of leather and fresh fir trees, mixed with clean sweat. It’s a heady, intensely masculine smell and it makes my core clench involuntarily. The big woodsman is holding onto me, his hands around my waist, as he gently sets me down on the ground. His eyes are bright blue, twinkling in the sunlight.
Declan gently takes my injured hand. “Let me take a look.”
I wince as he opens my palm. Blood drips down my fingers and he shakes his head.
“You got a first aid kit in that cabin?” His eyes are piercing.
“No, I was going to–”
“I’m driving you to my place and patching that up.”
“No, it’s okay. I can–”
“You right-handed, honey?”
I nod.
“Very tricky for you to treat the wound on your dominant hand with your left. Especially with no first aid supplies. I want to flush it, who knows what crap is up there on that roof. In the meantime, let’s wrap it up to stop the bleeding.”
He takes my shoulder and leads me toward the truck.
“How do I know you’re not a serial killer?” I squeak.
“I’m a decorated military veteran. So all my kills have been condoned by the US government.”
“Are you kidding me?”
He laughs. “You want to call your aunt, ask him if the Connors can be trusted? My brother Maverick is a firefighter, if you’d rather he patched you up.”
My cheeks flush. “I’m not trying to be rude, I’m alone and this is all too much.”
“I understand, honey. You need to rest and have something to drink. Maybe eat something sugary, too. The scare about the bear, sitting on that roof, hurting your hand; let me take care of you.”
I look up at him and even though I’ve only just met him, I believe what he’s saying. I take another leap of faith.
“Okay.”
Declan boosts me up into the passenger seat of his huge truck, walking around to the driver’s seat. Inside, it smells of him and I take a deep breath in. That scent makes me feel safe, protected somehow. Albert scampers onto the back seat, sitting with his legs out in front of him in a very human way that makes me giggle.
“He’s pretty advanced for a raccoon.”
“Smart. He’s the one running the show, I have to warn you. Got me wrapped around his little paw.” Declan winks at me, taking a clean white T-shirt from a laundry bag and carefully wrapping it around my injured palm.
“I’m going to ruin your T-shirt.”
“It’s fine, honey.” He reaches around me, putting on my seatbelt. His sudden closeness makes me suck my breath in as my stomach muscles tense. He gazes at me for a second, before starting the engine. I lean back against the seat as he drives further up the mountain, turning off the winding road into a large clearing.
Surrounded by pines, Declan’s cabin is huge. It’s made from a mix of logs and stone, with big glass windows and a steep metal roof. A porch wraps around the house, with a bench swing swaying gently on one side.
“ This is your place?”
He smiles. “Did you expect me to live wild under the trees? Or maybe share a tent with Albert, here?”
Albert snorts at the mention of his name. He darts out the window to perch on the porch once the truck draws to a stop.
“No, I’m sorry if that sounded rude. I’m just surprised something so beautiful is out here in these wild woods.”
He grins at me. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Let me help you down from this monster and get you inside.”
That sense of rightness floods me again once we’re inside the house. The open living area has a huge fireplace and vaulted timber beams across the ceiling. Handcrafted wooden accents and big throw blankets give it a cozy feel. It’s cooler inside, a big ceiling fan rotating above us as he leads me down a hallway.
Declan opens the door to a bathroom and I gasp, then start laughing. There’s a big, sunken tub that I wouldn’t expect to see in a log cabin.
I walk up closer to inspect it. “This is like something from an old movie. I’d expect to see Marilyn covered in bubbles in an enormous tub like that.”
Declan rummages in a side closet. “You’re exactly right. I love those old Hollywood movies. A big hotel on the other side of Bakersville was getting rid of their stuff in a revamp, so I reclaimed the tub. Need to use it more often, I’m usually in and out of the shower in five minutes.”
He walks over, boots thudding on the tiles. He’s so tall that he has to bend his neck to look into my eyes. Shivers run up my spine and prickle the crown of my head. Taking my hand, he gently cleans the cut, applies some kind of antiseptic spray, and then expertly bandages it up.
“Now, let’s get you something to eat.”