Chapter 6
Hayley
The wind screamed, and the shutters creaked and trembled. Living in the sunny LA area, I was unused to this harsh weather. I'd skied once in May on sunny days and sunbathed in deckchairs outside the resort restaurant.
Dean was a changed man. Gone were the scowls and sullen stares. His bearing had changed from a silent, suspicious man to a self-confident, reassuring leader who took charge in these difficult circumstances.
After finding this hut had one bedroom, I was horrified at having to spend the night with Dean, but he'd shown no interest in talking to me on the journey and still looked at me as if I'd crawled from under a rock.
I made some tomato soup; the stove was useful for rudimentary drinks and snacks. Dry biscuits completed the meal, but it would be 'manna to the gods' to a man who'd suffered five minutes in a storm.
I knocked on the bedroom door, shy of entering while this very masculine man was changing.
'I'll come out,' he yelled over the noisy gale circling the hut.
He opened the door while zipping his fleece up, but not before I noticed deep livid scars running across his neck.
I remembered he always wore high-necked shirts with long sleeves even in the summer.
Was he ashamed of his scars? Is that why he was so unfriendly?
Did he fear others rejecting him because of the scar on his face?
Somehow, it rendered him more attractive, like a pirate without his eye patch, and he looked much younger in casual clothes than in his office garb.
He noticed me watching and glared at me as if I'd invaded his privacy deliberately. I flushed but pointed to the drinks on the small table. 'Warm yourself, you must be freezing.'
'Thanks,' he said and drew up a chair. Smiling for once, he sipped his soup, his freezing hands hugging the mug.
'This is one of the worst storms I've experienced here,' he said as if trying hard to find a neutral topic of conversation.
'You are well prepared.'
'I've slept in wilderness conditions in the past when I was in the military,' he admitted. 'We camped and learned to ski here. The bedding arrangements are simple here, one large bed and four bunks. I'll sleep on the floor on the spare blankets, and you can have the bed.'
'That's not fair. You've done the arduous work. I'll take a bunk. You have the bed.'
'Those bunks are for kids. I've slept on the ground many times. I can kip anywhere.'
'You need to sleep well. You may have to pull that sled or shoot some animals. You need your strength and wits about you.' I glared at him.
'You're a damned, stubborn woman, aren't you. I'll carry you to the bed and tie you to it if I must.'
'And you're a pig-headed chauvinist who doesn't listen to women even if they make sense.'
'Make the bed, please. We don't have enough bedding for a bunk as well.
' He pulled some blankets and a sleeping bag out of his bag and threw them to me.
I caught the bundle of bedding and made the bed.
The cursed man was right; the cupboard was empty.
I realized he was too much of a gentleman to insist on sharing a bed.
My body tingled at the thought. I wondered if he'd experienced the same sensations.
I went into the parlor. He'd built up the fire. A pipe ran around the bedroom warming it. The parlor/ kitchen also possessed a rocking chair.
'I may sleep in this,' he said, 'with the stool as a footrest. I'll be warmer than you will be in the bedroom.'
I made up my mind. 'This is foolish. If we keep our thick clothes on, we will be perfectly decent if we share the bed.' I recoiled at the cold but searching look he gave me. It froze me to my soul.
I snarled. 'Don't think I’m attracted to you. You're the last man I’d share a bed with. I’d rather share the bed with a pig, but the fire will only last so long, and we need to keep each other warm to survive this storm.
'The feeling is entirely mutual, Hayley. I’d rather bed a viper than you, but if needs must, I agree we may have to share the bed.
I tried to use the cell and the wind-up radio while you were making the bed.
Neither is working in this storm. We may be stranded for several days and need to conserve our fuel. '
'Well, we haven't any choice then. The bed is big. You stay on your side, and I'll stay on the other. If you turn your back, I'll wash and then get into bed.'
'Do so then,' he said, doing as I asked.
I washed quickly and dressed. I moved into the bedroom and slid into a sleeping bag, pulling the cover up to my chin. I lay at the edge of the bed, giving him masses of space.
'You can come in now,' I yelled above the screaming wind.
He came in cautiously as if fearing I would jump him.
Then he smiled. 'You look like an imp sticking your head out of those covers.
' He threw me a woolly hat. 'Wear this. The temperature is dropping, and it will freeze later when the logs burn down.
' I put it on resenting the irrational irritation I felt because he didn't perceive me as a temptress but more as a scruffy non-sexual imp.
He took the side of the bed nearest the window.
We both wore our ski jackets, ski socks, and snow pants.
Anything less sexy, it would be difficult to find, yet I curled further to my side of the bed, trying to resist the gentle warmth emanating from his muscular body.
It was only nine o'clock, but I was dog-tired, my energy used up by the slithering and sliding trek up the hill. I’d believed I was fit, but Dean took the walk with ease as if it were a picnic. He was no office slug. Soon, I started to doze.
Dean
Usually, I could kip on a plank if I were tired.
Tonight, it was different. The proximity of that imp sharing the bed with me, enticing me to draw near to her, kept me awake until midnight.
I was glad she hadn't refused to get into bed; I didn't relish carrying out my threat. Carrying her in my arms would have tested my resolve. I'd promised myself I wouldn’t show my growing attraction to her. She’s still too feisty for my taste.
I prefer gentle girls who don't challenge me all the time, but her behavior has been more mature since we came to the hut.
I finally got to sleep, but tossed and turned throughout the night.
It grew colder, and I woke up wedged next to her.
She slept like the living dead and had nestled under my arm, a tress of her hair flicking across her cheek as she breathed.
She looked like an angel, not the irritating minx in the office.
I moved and she woke up, terror written across her face. She pushed me hard from her.
'Don't touch me. Don't hurt me!' She cried. I clambered out of the bed but went to her side, my hands up in the air.
'I won't touch you. What's wrong?' Her eyes widened with fright, pupils enlarged. She slowly came back to reality and, flushing, she explained, 'It was just a nightmare. I watched a scary film a few nights ago and can't forget it.'
I didn't believe her story for a second.
She trembled, still holding the sleeping bag, trying to keep her hands from trembling.
She was one scared chick. I'd seen girls this terrified before, raped girls in war zones who were terrified of men touching them.
Not a protected, educated city girl like Hayley. What had put the fear of God into her?
'Sorry,' I mumbled and left her alone.