Chapter 4 #2
“Hi.” Her voice was raspy from sleep and had his dick making another bid for some action.
Harrison didn’t move, lest he draw attention to it. “Hi.”
Ivy tipped her face back to look at him. The eyes that met his were a clear, silvery-green that made him think of tromping through snowy woods and cutting down Christmas trees. Her cheeks had a pretty pink flush he suspected it was from embarrassment rather than cold.
She cleared her throat, the color in her cheeks going deeper. “So, you’re here.”
“I am.”
“I thought I had a head injury and hallucinated you.”
He couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to brush the silky dark hair back from her temple, ostensibly to get a better look at the small cut there but really because he just needed to see what her hair felt like against his fingers.
“You’ve got a little bruise here, but I don’t think it’s that kind of head injury. ”
Ivy’s breath caught and his gaze darted to her face.
“Does that hurt?”
“No.” Her voice was a little breathless and her pupils sprang wide.
They snared him, drawing him in as effectively as a tractor beam.
Bad idea.
Needing to put them back on some kind of even keel, he withdrew his hand, returning it to her back. “How many of me are there?”
“Oh, I have a feeling there’s definitely only one,” she muttered.
He caught the laugh rumbling in his chest before it could spill out. “You’re probably not concussed. How are you feeling?”
“Tired. Sore. Stiff. Kinda hurts to move.”
“Don’t rush on my account.” Shit. Did that really just come out of his mouth? He should be getting up, getting her some painkillers, letting her get dressed, getting some food in her. But before he could say any of that, she slowly settled her head back into the crook of his shoulder.
An awkward silence descended.
Now what?
“Well,” she sighed, “I sure didn’t expect to end up here when I ran away this afternoon.”
Harrison went rigid, his arms tightening around her, those protective instincts roaring. Was there a boyfriend or husband who’d used his fists on her? The idea of it had him running mental inventory on what weapons he had at his disposal. Not that he needed anything more than his hands.
“Did someone hurt you?” He knew his voice was one step above a growl, but he couldn’t seem to stop it. There was no excuse, ever, for raising a hand to a woman.
Oddly, his anger seemed to make her relax again. “No. I’m running away from work.”
Whatever he’d expected, it wasn’t that, but it didn’t make him want to stand down. “What kind of work makes you run away?”
She tipped her head back again, her lips curving into a self-deprecatory smile. “I’m a writer, and I’ve missed a deadline. Well, not quite yet, but I’m close to missing it.”
A writer. What were the odds? “Running away helps with that?”
“Getting away from the source of the stress and having a change of scenery seemed like a magnificent idea when I got in the car. I figured I’d relax a little and that seeing somewhere new would shake something loose.
I hoped it would buy me some time to finish the book, so when I got back to civilization, I’d have something to give to my agent and editor, who have been hounding me for several weeks now. ”
Which probably just made the writer’s block worse. Escaping all that seemed like a reasonable strategy. “How much do you lack?”
“Oh, all of it.” Her tone was entirely off-hand, as if not having started and already being past deadline was no big deal.
Harrison arched a brow.
Ivy just shrugged and set her cheek back against his shoulder. “I’ve got the world’s worst case of writer’s block.”
Her silky hair spilled over his arm. The whisper of it over his skin made his fingers itch to touch it again. To thread through the strands so he could tip her head back and find out if she tasted as good as she smelled and what she’d feel like if they got even closer.
Stand down, soldier. Harrison wasn’t entirely sure if the mental order was to his errant cock or the rest of him.
Christ almighty, when was the last time he’d been this fixated on a woman?
Because neither part of him seemed inclined to follow orders—he was still thinking about her naked—he began unwinding their blanket cocoon.
The cabin had warmed considerably since their arrival, and she was no longer in danger.
There was no reason to maintain their proximity. No matter how good it felt.
“You should get some fluids, some painkillers. If that stays down, we’ll see how you do with some food. I’ve got the fixings for soup.” Harrison swung his legs to the floor, careful to shield his lap from Ivy’s view.
“I don’t want to intrude.”
He couldn’t stop the snort of laughter at that. “I think we’re past that kind of formality. And either way, we’re stuck here at least until morning. The snow hasn’t done anything but get heavier while you were out.”
Rising, he slipped into his jeans, subtly tucking away the evidence of his inappropriate thoughts.
Ivy didn’t speak again until he slid on his shirt. “I’m sorry.”
Surprised, he looked over his shoulder at where she’d sat up on the sofa, her lower half blessedly covered by the nest of blankets. “Why?”
“Because nobody comes to a place like this if they want company. So I’m sorry to have intruded on your solitude.”
Shoving his feet back into his boots, he considered his reply.
“You’re not wrong. But sometimes whatever you’re trying to escape by coming to a place like this is better held at bay by distraction.
And you’re definitely that.” Lifting his head, he caught the flash of raw empathy in her eyes.
Uncomfortable, he pushed to his feet. “Besides, it’s not like you went over the edge on purpose. ”
“No, but you did. You saved my life. Thanks for that. For all of this.”
Not wanting any credit, he shrugged. “You’d have gotten up the guts to get out before long.”
“I’m not sure I’d have scaled the side of the mountain without you. So the thanks holds.”
Grunting an acknowledgement, he crossed to the door. “I’ll bring in all our bags.”
Not daring another glance in her direction, he stepped into the swirling snow and hoped it would be more effective than a cold shower.