Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Rain pelted them without mercy, stinging Ace’s face and blinding his vision.
Wind tore through the trees. Branches snapped and debris flew in front of the four-wheeler.
The sky had gone nearly black with thick clouds choking out the day.
Driving the bucking vehicle, he leaned into the storm, locking his muscles and trusting his instincts to get them to safety.
His cabin emerged through the sheets of rain.
He drove past the shop and jerked the machine to a halt as the wind shrieked around them.
Sliding off, he immediately pulled May with him, lifting her straight into his arms. The cold had teeth now, biting through soaked fabric into skin.
He curved his body around hers best he could, shielding her from the brutal wind.
She was shaking. Hard. Not just from cold but maybe from shock. Or even fear.
His gut clenched. That lightning had been too damn close, and he’d taken her down hard.
She was small and breakable, and he could’ve hurt her.
He ran for the door, his boots splashing through mud and pooling water.
He shoved it open, hauled her inside, and then kicked it shut against the storm’s violent howl.
“Whoa,” she said, shoving wet hair off her face.
“Hold on.” He set her down in the vestibule. His fingers were stiff and numb, but he forced speed into his movements. Shedding his coat, he kicked off his boots and hustled toward the fireplace in the center of the main room.
The cabin was dark. Much darker than it should’ve been.
He crouched, struck a match, and touched flame to the waiting kindling. Fire flared, small but alive. His tension started to ease. Moving to a lamp, he flicked it on. The light wavered, flickered, and then steadied. He turned back to the shivering woman watching him.
She blinked in the glow and shook out of her coat before nudging off her boots. Water dripped onto the floor. Her blonde hair matted to her head, and mud coated her skin, clothes, and face. Shuddering, she looked at the fire and then the small lamp. “You have a generator?”
“I do. It’s hooked up automatically. Don’t you have one?”
She shook her head. “Only at the clinic and not at home. My place is probably pitch black right now.” Her lips were turning blue.
A protective surge hit him low and hard.
She scrunched her nose, glancing toward the window where rain lashed the glass. “I have to tell you, I don’t think it’s been this dark all month, and it’s still the middle of the day.” She sounded more shell-shocked than thoughtful.
“It’s closer to dinnertime than you think,” Ace said. “But yeah. That’s a hell of a storm.”
Thunder cracked overhead, rattling the walls.
He closed the distance between them, lifting her chin gently.
Mud smeared along her jaw, and bits of pine cone clung to her cheek.
He brushed it away, his fingers lingering against skin that felt far too cold.
“Did I hurt you?” He ran his hands carefully down her wet arms, checking for injuries without making it obvious.
Her clothes were soaked, her skin icy, and alarming tremors rolled through her.
“Hurt me?” Her gaze lifted to his.
“Yeah. I tackled you pretty hard back there.”
She laughed softly. “No, I’m fine. I might have a couple of bruises, but I’m definitely better off than if we’d been struck by lightning.”
The thought dragged him back to the ditch and to the white flash that had filled the forest. The crack that rattled bone. The ground shuddering under his boots like it might give way.
She turned toward the window, and her eyes widened. “Oh. I need my pack. My phone’s in it, and I’m on call. Always.”
He gulped. “Yeah, you’re right.” He should’ve thought of it. The storm had scrambled his brain, and adrenaline still ricocheted through his system. “Hold on right here.”
“No, I’ll get it.” She moved toward her boots, partially bending down.
He caught her wrist and gently drew her back.
“No. You stay inside.” Her skin was cold.
Not just cool. Cold enough to send a hard spike of alarm straight through him.
He slipped into his boots, not bothering with his coat since he was soaked through anyway, and shoved the door open.
Wind slammed into him like a living thing.
Rain slashed across him, brutal and relentless, each drop pointed as a needle against his face.
He bent into it by driving forward with his shoulders like he had in football years ago.
His lungs burned with air that felt ten degrees colder than it had any right to be.
The yard had become a blur of water and motion.
Branches thrashed wildly, and loose gravel skittered beneath his boots.
The ATV rocked under the force of the wind, the pack still strapped to the rear rack with a bungee cord.
He wrestled it free, his fingers numb and clumsy, then pivoted back toward the cabin as thunder cracked so violently it rattled his teeth. Another flash split the sky.
He ran harder to make it to shelter. Inside, he kicked the door shut against the storm’s furious howl. Water streamed off him in rivulets. He shook out his hair, droplets spraying across the entryway. “I think Mother Nature is pissed.”
“No kidding.” May took the pack, already digging through it to study her phone. “I’m half charged, so we should be good.”
“Honey, I have electricity. You can charge it all the way.”
She looked up, her hair frizzing around her face. “That’s a good idea.”
The fire snapped and popped in the main room, the flames climbing higher now and pushing warmth into the cabin.
The air carried the scent of burning wood, faint smoke, damp wool, and wet leather.
His place always smelled like that after a storm.
In fact, when the four of them had been growing up, the place had smelled like that mixed with sweat from whatever sport they were playing at the time.
He pointed toward the small table by the door where a charging cord rested beside a scatter of keys and a folded map. “Feel free.”
“Great.” She glanced at her phone. “Nobody’s called in with emergencies.”
As if summoned by the thought, his phone buzzed from his back pocket. He jerked, surprised, and then pulled it free. The screen glowed stubbornly alive. “Huh. My phone survived all of that.”
“Really?”
He’d landed on top of her, not his phone. That tracked. He lifted it to his ear to answer. “Yeah?”
“Hey, it’s Brock. You good?”
“Yeah, we’re fine.”
Brock blew out air over the line. “Good. Amos alerted me there were lightning strikes in the direction you went.”
“No shit.” Ace scrubbed a hand down his face. “We’re okay, though. We’re back at my place. Did anybody find the lost tourists?”
“Yep. Found them wandering near Beartrack Creek, lost but perfectly healthy. The woman had insulin with her, so no worries there,” Brock said.
Ace’s shoulders finally relaxed. “They’re totally fine?”
“Yep. They even had enough water to get them through a couple more days.”
Relief unwound the knot inside Ace. He looked over at May and gave a small, reassuring nod. “The tourists are fine. No medical help is needed.”
“Is there anyone injured from the storm who needs a doctor?” she asked, stepping closer so Brock could hear.
“Nope. We’re all down at Sam’s Tavern. She’s running on a new generator, so it’s warm, bright, and full of stranded townspeople. Come join us,” Brock said cheerfully.
“We need to warm up first, but I’ll be in touch. Thanks.” Ace ended the call and looked at the disheveled woman in his vestibule. Or what counted as a vestibule in the wilds. He admired her concern for the town. “Everyone’s fine right now, Doc.”
She rubbed her hands down her arms, still trembling. “Oh good.”
“Let’s get you into a shower.”
Her head jerked up.
He chuckled. “All by yourself. I promise.”
She studied him for several long seconds and then stepped toward him. There were different shades of blue in her spectacular eyes, darker now, deeper, charged with something that had nothing to do with the storm. “What if I don’t want to go by myself?” she asked softly.
The words stopped Ace cold. The fire cracked behind them as rain hammered the roof, and wind screamed through the trees outside, but all of it faded beneath the sudden roar of blood in his ears. His gaze locked on hers, searching, disbelieving, already burning. She hadn’t looked away.
“Are you concussed?” he asked.
She burst out laughing. “No.”
Oh. Water dripped from his hair, slid down his neck, and soaked into a shirt he barely felt anymore. Every nerve in his body lit up as awareness crashed through him with brutal clarity. The storm, the cold, and the adrenaline didn’t touch the heat detonating low and hard inside him.
Yeah, he was accustomed to women making the move on him in town. Often. But this was May Smirnov. She was too good for him. It was the truth. “May…” Her name scraped out rough, thick with a warning he wasn’t sure was meant for her or himself.
She stepped closer.
His body locked in. He saw it then. The same hunger raging through him reflected back in those impossible blue eyes. Not uncertainty. Not hesitation. Need.
Raw. Open. Undeniable.
“You saved my life,” she whispered.
Ah, fuck. Yeah, that made sense. “I know. You’re grateful.” Not once in his entire life had he been a pity screw, and that wasn’t happening now. “You’re not thinking. Just feeling.” God, she was stunning. Even all wet and muddy, the woman had class.
A new light flickered in her eyes. Amusement? “I’m not that grateful, dude. Not even close.”
He decided to join in the fun. “Why not? Without me, you’d be a barbecued blonde.”
Her jaw dropped and her lips twitched. “You did not just say that.”
Yeah, he had. “There’s definitely something here, Doc. You feel it and so do I. But it was a rough afternoon, we could’ve died, and emotions get the best of all of us. I don’t want to take advantage of you. Ever.” His body rioted and he shoved hunger down. Hard.
“I’m not a silly tourist, Ace Osprey,” she whispered.
No shit. She was the sexy woman he’d been dreaming about for many months. His flirting had been harmless because she was way too smart to take a chance on a guy like him. At least right now, until he fixed his head. “I’m a bad bet, baby.”
Now one of her eyebrows arched, and a small chunk of mud fell onto the floor. “Who says I’m betting on you? Maybe I just want to take your hot body and reputation for a spin.”
He grinned. Yeah, she was cute. “That’s bullshit.”
She shrugged, and more mud fell onto the rug by his door. “Are you saying you’re not interested?”
“You know I am.” He hadn’t hidden anything from her.
“So what’s the problem?” She took another step toward him, no indecision in her stunning eyes. No confusion. “I’m not asking for anything beyond this night, Osprey.”
Yeah. That was the fucking problem. He wanted more than a night and always had with her. From the first second they’d met. But he’d known he had to deal first. “How about we go on a date?”
“Don’t want a date,” she whispered, her dirty hands pulling her sweater over her head. Her bra was a light pink with a heart in the middle.
Something inside him snapped.
Months of control shattered in an instant.
He closed the distance and grabbed her. His hand locked around her waist and pulled her hard against him. Heat ripped through him. Fast. Brutal. Her palms hit him, and even soaked and shaking from the cold, she burned straight through him.
His other hand slid into her wet hair, his fingers tightening as he held her there.
As if letting go wasn’t an option anymore.
He lowered his head and stopped just short of her mouth.
His breath came rough, and control was almost a distant memory.
“Tell me to stop.” The words came out like a demand. Like a plea.
She answered by kissing him.
The second her soft lips touched his, he was gone.
He groaned low in his throat, the sound ripping straight from somewhere primal.
His mouth claimed hers instantly, hunger roaring free after being caged far too long.
The kiss wasn’t gentle. Couldn’t be. It was heat and desperation and months of wanting her crashing into reality.
Finally.
Her fingers fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer, and that tiny movement nearly undid him. He tightened his grip at her waist, dragging her flush against him. She was so damn soft. So utterly feminine.
His brain shorted out.
There was only sensation.
Her.
Only the intoxicating taste of her mouth, the soft gasp she breathed against his lips, the way she melted into him like she belonged there. Like she’d always belonged there.
He deepened the kiss, losing himself in the feel of her. Heat coiled violently through his bloodstream, desire crashing into adrenaline until he couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. He tore his mouth from hers. “Shower,” he said.
Because if he didn’t redirect this, didn’t move, didn’t do something—
She nodded, eyes dark, lips swollen, breath unsteady.
He took her hand. Even that simple contact felt charged and electric, her cold fingers sliding into his like a perfect fit.
He led her down the hallway, alarms already going off in his head.
It was too late. Everything felt unreal and heightened, like the world had narrowed to this single, inevitable collision.
At the bathroom door, he stopped and turned to look at her.
Her hair was wet, her skin flushed. Those blue eyes still burned with the same reckless heat tearing through him.
He had to give her one more chance, even if it killed him.
“Are you sure?” He sounded like he’d swallowed those pine needles outside.
Her breath hitched. “Yes.”
That was it. The last barrier gone.