Page 71 of The Older Woman

Buddy barked, as if giving his approval of my decision. I lived alone—aside from Buddy, of course. I liked it that way. Didn’t need company, especially after the kind of life I’d lived. All the same, there wasn’t a chance in hell I’d leave someone unconscious out in the cold.

I bent down, scooping the girl off the ground. She was light as a feather, and I was able to fireman carry her with no problem.

“Back to the car, big guy!” I called out to Buddy. “Get a move on!”

My dog wasted no time taking off into the woods, staying within eyesight as I carried her through the snow. The temperature dropped lower as we made our way, the snow accumulating by the second.

I held the mystery woman against me, her body curled into mine. She was still warm, her shearling-lined coat soft. Even though I was focused on getting her to safety, it was impossible not to notice her scent, the way she felt in my arms. I pushed that out of my thoughts as best I could, focusing instead on bracing against the cold and wind, and completing the task at hand.

It took about ten minutes of trudging through the woods until I was able to spot my truck, the ’95 cherry-red Ford F-150 that I’d been driving for the last few decades. Like me, she was getting up in years. But also like me, she still knew how to work her butt off.

Buddy was already there, waiting patiently at the truck’s side. I approached, opening the door of the extended cab and gently laying the girl down. Once she was taken care of, I opened the passenger-side door for Buddy. Seconds later, I was inside, the engine growling to life and heat flowing out of the vents. Relief took hold at knowing the girl was safe and warm for the time being, but there was still the matter of getting her home.

The Ford handled the snow like a champ, the old girl barreling and rumbling over the rough forest floor.

My place was a little ways off, but it wouldn’t take long to get there. As I glanced at the beauty in my backseat, I started wondering what the hell I’d gotten myself into.

* * *