Chapter 3 #2
The woman exhales, relief flooding her face. “I’m Poppy. And I’m really sorry you had to look for Stevie in this weather.”
“You’re lucky I did. This is a pretty isolated area and there aren’t even decent trails around here. Most of the people who come up from Hollow Peak follow the park signs and the groomed paths.”
“I didn’t see any signs.”
“Exactly, because there aren’t any. You and your friend trespassed on my land.” Private property and keep out signs sometimes have the opposite effect, inviting curiosity, and all the locals know this is Hart property and has been for over a hundred years. I point at her leg. “Your ankle’s shot.”
“I tried pretending it wasn’t. I thought maybe if I rested it, I’d be able to walk out if I took my time. I needed to wait out the snow anyway.”
“There’s no waiting out this storm. It might be April, but this is going to turn to heavy ice soon enough. The weather up here is different than even in the towns around the base of the mountains.”
“I guess this wasn’t my day to tackle the mountain.”
“On most days, the mountain usually wins.”
The wind howls low, snow thickening into something I don’t want to be out in for any longer than necessary.
I grab her backpack, loosening the straps so I can slip it over my shoulders. “We need to move.”
“Oh. Okay, can you grab a branch or something I can use as a crutch?” She squeaks as I bend, arranging Stevie in her arms and zipping my coat up over the both of them. “Hold on to her,” I say, already sliding one arm under her knees. “My cabin’s not far.”
Her eyes flick to me, hesitant. “You can’t carry me, I’m too heavy.”
I snort. I’m a big guy and I’ve always kept myself in shape because performing takes a toll on your body.
Since I’ve been out here, however, working on the farm I realized hard work is even more effective than working out in a gym.
I scoop Poppy up, her curvy body fitting against me like she belongs there.
She gasps softly and must have tightened her hold on Stevie, as a muffled bleat emerges from the material bundling them.
“You must be so angry. I’m so sorry.”
I keep my eyes on the trail, trying to ignore the strange tightness in my chest at how right it feels for her to be in my arms. The woman is a perfect stranger.
Maybe my sister was right, and I need to be around humans a little more regularly.
“I’m angry at whoever cut my fence. You just rescued a goat with terrible decision-making skills. ”
Stevie bleats in agreement.
I shoulder my way through a dense patch of trees. “Duck your head.”
Her hood brushes my chin as she lowers her head to my shoulder. I’m painfully aware of every breath she takes as she holds herself rigid in my arms.
“You named your goat Stevie,” she murmurs.
“After a legend.”
She tilts her head back to look at me. “Like… Stevie Nicks?”
I give a half-smile. “She’s got the attitude.”
Poppy’s lips curve and I nearly stumble.
I shift her until she’s tucked back in by my shoulder as the weather worsens into storm territory.
It’s slow going and I’m relieved when I push open the door to the cabin and settle Poppy down in front of the fire.
She’d started trembling about fifteen minutes ago and I know she must be soaked through.
I carefully unwrap my jacket and lift Stevie out of Poppy’s arms.
“Hey, I’ll be right back,” I say. I stride through the house, performing a quick check to make sure Stevie is not hurt or scraped by the ragged wire. The wind howls as I open the back door and jog to the heated barn, depositing Stevie in with the others and rush back.
Poppy is where I left her, and I’m alarmed by the pallor of her skin and the fact that she hasn’t taken off her wet coat.
I kneel in front of her, pushing her sodden jacket off her shoulders. “We have to get you out of these clothes,” I say.
Her wide eyes meet mine and for a second all I can think about is how soft she feels under my hands.
Jesus. I’m a fucking asshole. She probably thinks I’m some kind of serial killer or something. I immediately back off. “I’m sorry, but you’re soaked, and you need to get warm. I can get you some dry clothes.”
“Th-thank you.”
I practically run out of the room and up the stairs.
What is wrong with me? I glance outside the window, watching the sleet beat down against the glass as I pull my wet sweater over my head and replace it with a fresh one.
I grab blankets, a pair of sweatpants and a warm hoodie.
What if Stevie hadn’t escaped? What if I hadn’t found her?
Anger heats my blood. The guy who left Poppy, was he a friend?
Boyfriend? Was he even now trying to find her?
On the one hand, I should probably call the Sheriff or the Alpine Rangers if I think that some inexperienced jack-off is wandering around in this storm. On the other hand, he left an injured woman.
Left her in anger. Outside the storm rages, a mirror to the emotions roiling inside my body. My sanctuary was breached, but the woman downstairs feels like something that was meant to be found.