Page 8 of Mountain Man

“No…I’m fine. Really, just point me in the right direction.”

“It’s not safe and there’s no way you’ll get there on that ankle.”

The idea of him coming with me to pee was humiliating. “Hank…”

“Boots,” he rumbled.

Crap. I looked down and saw my boots by the door. Right. Bare feet were probably not a great idea if I was hoping to avoid frostbite. I tried to slide my injured foot into one and winced when pain shot through my ankle. There was no way I was getting that on. Now what?

Hank strode to the bed, jerked a drawer open in the dresser beside it, and pulled something out, then was moving toward me.

He dropped to his knees, grabbed my injured leg in one hand, and I watched as he slid on a thick knitted sock.

I blinked down at him. “I don’t think socks will help.”

He ignored me and did the same with the other foot.

I opened my mouth again to speak, but my words were swallowed by a gasp when he swung me up into his arms, shoved his feet in his own boots, opened the door, and walked out, shirtless, into the snow.

He stomped through the fresh powder to a little shed that I discovered was an outhouse when he pushed open the door.

He placed me back on my feet. “I’ll wait out here.”

“Right, thanks.” I was still trying to get my heart rate back under control after being held in his arms, cradled against his massive bare chest, as the door shut.

Thankfully, there was moonlight streaming through a cutout on the back wall. It was freezing, and the floor was covered in snow that had made it inside. It soaked through my socks. I quickly did my business and was shivering so hard my teeth were clattering together by the time I opened the door. Hank scooped me up again and stomped back toward the cabin. The wind whistled around us and the snow, which was still falling, stuck to our hair and Hank’s beard.

Even after standing out in the elements shirtless, his skin felt warm and I couldn’t stop myself from burrowing closer, seeking out more. His hold tightened around me and then we were back at the cabin and he was opening the door, walking in, and closing out the cold.

He didn’t put me down. Instead he walked to the fire, stopped in front of it, and dropped to his knees again. He didn’t speak, just held me in front of the dying embers with one arm while throwing another piece of wood on the fire.

My teeth wouldn’t stop chattering. “G-god, I c-can’t get w-warm,” I said.

As soon as the words left my mouth, we were moving again. Hank carried me to the bed, sat me in the edge, pulled off the wet socks, tugged the sweater over my head, and grabbed the edge of the covers.

“In, Birdie.”

I scrambled in and he threw them back over me, then stood there watching me. “Better?”

The cold felt like it had soaked right down to my marrow. Not as bad as when I’d gotten lost, but it wasn’t pleasant either. My teeth were still chattering. “H-how are you not cold? You’re n-not even wearing a s-shirt.”

He shoved his fingers through his hair. “I’m used to the cold. I—shit, I’m not used to—” He cursed. “I should have put more clothes on you before I took you out there.” He strode to the fire and threw more wood on then turned back to me, like that would make an instant difference.

I wasn’t getting warmer. It was almost like I was making the bed colder, which I knew must be impossible, but that’s exactly how it felt. I looked over at him, remembering how warm he’d felt and how cozy I’d been when I woke beside him the day before. I was too cold to care if it was inappropriate; I just wanted to be warm, and Hank was the source of some serious heat.

I shoved the covers back. “Get in…please.”

His thick brows shot up. “You’ll warm up soon. The fire just needs to—”

“P-please, Hank.”

His huge body stilled, like a startled animal. Finally, after standing there, jaw working for what felt like forever, he moved to the bed. I watched as he undid his pants and shoved them down, so he was only wearing his boxers. My lower belly warmed instantly, and I swallowed hard.

“Move over,” he said, a growl to his voice that lifted the hair on the back on my neck.

I did as he asked, and the bed dipped as he climbed in beside me. I had no shame at this point and rolled into his warmth immediately. I didn’t know this man, we didn’t know much about each other except for the little he’d told me, but I did know I could trust him. My initial fear had vanished sometime between him making me cocoa and being carried out in the snow to the outhouse in his strong, capable arms.

The big man holding himself unnaturally still beside me, arms crossed over his chest, clearly uncomfortable, was no threat to me. He was far from it. And I felt…safe.