Two miles he said. Just a little further he said. Abby felt like they’d been hiking for ten miles instead of two. Her feet were lead bricks. Every step became a massive investment of energy. She wanted to curl up into a ball and just…stop. But the man who’d shot the wolves set a relentless pace.

They'd been hiking cross-country for well over an hour, and there was still nothing but rolling white stretching out in front of them. The sky was a featureless gray. Backlit by the moon, the clouds glowed a faint mottled gray, providing barely enough light to show the way. Which way that might be, she had no idea. She depended on her savior to take her to safety.

Snow drifted downward, piling up beneath her feet, and generally making the hike unbearable. They weren't back in blizzard-like conditions, but another few inches had dropped since they’d left the road, making overland travel challenging.

And, she was hot!

Sweat slicked her back and pooled under her breasts. Perspiration saturated the band of her bra and chaffed her skin. As thankful as she'd been for the coat, she had it unzipped, and it flapped in the gusting wind. The physical activity kept her pulse elevated and deepened her breath. She’d take the damn coat off if she didn’t think her guide would disapprove.

Despite the fact her body had become a toaster oven, the same could not be said of her face. The frigid temperatures pricked at her cheeks and numbed the tip of her nose. She rubbed at her nose repeatedly, even held her hand in front of her face like a shield, trying to warm up the tender tip. And her ears! They had burned like fire when the flurries kicked up their intensity. Now, she couldn't feel them at all. Which was bad.

Very bad.

That meant the skin and cartilage of her ears had frozen or were in the process of freezing. Her medical mind dredged up facts differentiating frost nip from frostbite. Her inner monologue was pointless. She didn’t want to lose an ear.

Lifting the hood of his coat helped somewhat, and she tugged down her hat. Feeling came back to her ears with a fiery burn as blood rushed in and brought warmth to nearly frozen tissue. But the hood trapped in her body heat, making her sweat even more.

She'd been cold while walking on the road. Her movement barely enough to keep her body temperature from plunging to dangerous levels. Now, she wished for an air conditioner.

And whoever her savior was, his powerful legs devoured the ground with barely any effort. She'd spent the first ten minutes jog-stepping to keep pace. Finally, she decided he would have to match her pace, not the other way around. It took a few minutes as they crossed a pasture before he realized how far she had fallen behind. He stopped and waited, saying nothing as she struggled through a knee-high drifting of snow. His brooding silence confused her, but as she was out of breath, she was content to not engage in unnecessary conversation.

The moment she caught up, she expected a short reprieve. That didn’t happen. He continued his trek, slowing down out of consideration for her much shorter stride, but never stopping for a break. That had been the first of many moments she cursed him behind his back.

The gaiters were amazing. Despite plunging mid-calf, and in some cases, up to her knees in snow, the waterproof fabric kept her lower legs free from snow and prevented it from sneaking into her shoes. Nevertheless, snow caked the top of her sneakers and melted through the layers of material. Her feet were wet, cold, and numb. They felt ten pounds too heavy, and she struggled with every step.

Several times, she asked how much farther. His response 'just a little more' turned sour after her fifth or sixth demand.

They hiked in silence, broken only by the crunching of their feet over virgin snow and the occasional gusting of the wind. After that first keening wail, they heard nothing else from that distant wolf pack. And then, it happened.

When she’d lost all hope of ever making it to anything resembling civilization, he crested a steep rise and stopped.

She climbed after him, slipping more times than not, wondering why he didn’t offer his hand, and cursing him for not helping her with the climb. But she made it to the top of the hill where she caught her breath and listened to the thrum of her pulse surging past her ears.

A tiny house sat in the valley below. Light spilled out of its windows and splashed onto the virgin snow, promising warmth inside. She clasped her hands and brought them to her mouth. They’d made it. A few hundred yards and she could strip out of all these layers, and maybe, just maybe, she would be warm again.

He pointed down the slope to a barbed wire fence.

“We have to crawl over the wire. I would’ve taken us to the gate, but that’s not for another mile to the west. Be careful you don’t snag yourself on the barbs. It’ll leave a scar, and you’ll need a tetanus shot.”

She knew all about painful tetanus shots. Not that she would have to worry. All her immunizations were up to date. Besides, the barbs would have to penetrate seven, no eight layers of fabric before piercing her skin.

“And we’ll have to be careful crossing the field,” he continued. “I don’t think the llamas are out. Bert keeps them in the barn in weather like this.”

She’d been expecting sheep or cattle, but llamas? Livestock scared the crap out of her. Cows were placid creatures, but she didn’t trust something that weighed close to a ton. Sheep were basically overstuffed dogs and stupid, but didn’t they bite? Llamas? She knew nothing about llamas except they were the dorkiest animals she’d ever seen.

“Um, okay?”

His chuckle filled the stillness. She had yet to see his face and had imagined him any number of ways. What would he look like? Tall and handsome? Or tall and fearsome? Either way, he was overwhelmingly tall, and more than fit.

Unlike her, he wasn’t out of breath and looked like he could continue this pace all day long. He was definitely comfortable with the outdoors. He’d kept those odd goggles on their entire trek, scanning left and right as they’d moved across the fields. Other than the deep timbre of his voice and his powerful frame, he remained a mystery.

“Llamas?” she asked.

And why did this Bert guy have llamas? She was used to horses, cattle, and sheep. Next thing her guide was going to tell her about a nearby ostrich farm.

He spoke over his shoulder, leading the way down the hill. “Well, they aren’t like horses or cattle, that’s for sure.”

“Why is that?”

“You really aren’t from around here are you?” His voice echoed into the breach of wintery silence. All around them the land seemed to slumber, caressed to quiet by the rumble of his voice.

She shivered and shook her head. What did he look like under that mask and those goggles? It was killing her with the need to know.

“City girl?” His voice held a little more than a bit of scorn.

“Not really city, but definitely not country.” Redlands wasn’t exactly a big city, but it was more built up than a suburb.

“Suburbs then,” he said with distaste.

“Not sure Redlands is considered the suburbs. More like a little, big town.” She didn’t want to continue that conversation, not when his tone had been so disparaging. “Tell me about these llamas.”

He huffed another laugh. “They’re curious and alert creatures…related to camels, which means they spit. I’d keep your distance.”

“Well, I think I’m capable of staying out of range of llama spit.”

“Maybe,” he said. “Their necks are longer than you think. You’ve been warned.”

“I’ll stay back.”

“Well, if any of them are out, I’d suggest getting behind me.”

“Why?”

“This herd has been harried by the wolves. They’re a bit strung out, and llamas tend to meet threats head on. They’re likely to attack a stranger.”

Great. Don’t impale herself on the barbed wire. Avoid spitting llamas and don’t get trampled by one either.

“Anything else I need to know?”

“Nope.”

She couldn’t see but imagined a smile behind the mask. He was probably having a good laugh at the poor city girl. Well, she would prove she could handle anything country thrown her way.

“Well, lead on,” she said, gesturing toward the house across the field. “I can’t wait to see my first llama.”

“Definitely a city girl,” he said with a rumble of his deliciously deep voice.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Her words came out more defensive than she’d intended. Her savior had been light on the compliments, inclined to point out every mistake she made. Not that it had been her choice to nearly run down a moose. Or walk the wrong way, headed out of town. Okay, that may have been a colossal mistake, but she swore she’d been headed the right way.

They reached the bottom of the hill and approached the snarl of barbed wire fencing. Abby wasn’t clear how he expected her to make it over the fence.

He placed the sole of his boot on the lowest strand and stepped down. The action opened a six-inch gap. Not something she would be able to crawl through. She gave him a dubious look.

He gestured toward her. “Come here.”

She crossed her arms and stayed where she was. “Maybe we should find this gate?”

“You don’t have another mile in you, city girl. Now take my coat off and give it here.”

While she had been complaining about being overly warm a few minutes ago, standing at the base of the hill had her shivering again. She didn’t want to give up the coat, but his command didn’t allow for argument. She shrugged out of the coat and handed it over, shivering as a gust of wind blew the snow into a flurry. He wrapped it around the upper strands of wire forming a U-shape. Then he lifted. The six-inch gap widened.

“Hurry up,” he said. “This is harder than it looks.”

She rushed forward, eyeing the opening, hoping his arm didn’t give out while she was halfway through. One glance at the fullness of muscles bunched under his shirt, and she didn’t have much to worry about.

Picking her way over the exposed wire, she cleared the fence.

He released his hold, and the gap in the fence collapsed, leaving him on the outside of the fencing.

“How are you—”

She didn’t get to finish her sentence because he placed his hand on the nearest post and vaulted over the wire like it was nothing. She admired his strength and agility as he twisted around and landed beside her. He freed the coat from a barb with a little rip of the fabric. Damn, now she would have to buy him a new coat.

“Come on,” he said. “Almost there. Put the coat back on.”

“I’m a little overheated,” she said.

“Don’t care,” he said, shoving the coat at her. “It doesn’t take long to freeze out here, and we’re not inside yet. Put the coat on.”

His insistent tone left no room for argument. Abby took the coat and slipped it on. She’d been taught to be cautious. Not to trust. Yet here she was, following a stranger into a house in the middle of nowhere. It didn’t help it was nearly midnight. Past midnight? She didn’t really know what time it was. He could do anything to her, and no one would ever know. Maybe it would’ve been better to stay with her car?

It didn’t take long before he was ahead of her again, marching toward the small ranch style house. A single-story structure, it had the classic rambling farm architecture, but what drew her eye, and energized her step, was the thin trail of smoke twisting up from the chimney. She’d give her first born to sit in front of that fire right about now.

His pace picked up, and the distance between them grew. Remembering what he’d said about testy llamas, she stumbled to a jog, intent on closing the gap. Or maybe, she just really wanted to be out of this damn weather.

Blanketed in white, the rolling fields reflected what little moonlight filtered through the clouds. The entire landscape sparkled, and the blanketing of snow smoothed out the hills. Images of building snowmen and making snow angels came to mind. Family trips when she’d been little up to the mountains. She and her parents would play all day until the sun dipped below the horizon, and then they’d pile into the back of the car, blasting the heater as they drove down to the valley floor. They would stop at Taco Shack for dinner, strip out of their thick layers until only jeans and t-shirts remained. While they watched passing cars, they’d sit under the open-air awning and chomp on tortilla chips, salsa, and queso dip waiting for their burritos to be made.

Abby sniffed, missing her parents with an aching loneliness. There were many reasons to put Redlands behind her, but leaving her parents’ graves hadn’t been one of them.

Fresh wood smoke filled her nostrils, a thick, homey scent. Her savior waited at a wooden gate, holding it open. She stepped past him and took a deep breath. The ordeal of her evening was almost over. She was safe.

He latched the fence and walked beside her the remaining distance. His impressive height dwarfed her much smaller frame, but there was something about it which felt strangely natural.

“When I forget to tell you later how grateful I am for your help tonight, please know that I am.”

He placed his arm around her shoulder, the first real physical contact between them other than when he’d fastened the gaiters around her legs. Tugging her close, he gave her shoulder a squeeze.

“The people of Peace Springs look out for one another. No need to say thank you, but you’re welcome. Now, let’s get you inside and warmed up.”

With a tug, he pulled at the strap of the odd goggles and tugged off his hat, revealing midnight black hair and the darkest eyes she’d ever seen. A jagged scar stretched from his cheek to the corner of his mouth. Abby gasped and took a step back. Normally a disfigurement like that would make a person repulsive, but it did exactly the opposite with him.

Ruggedly handsome wasn’t sufficient to describe his aching beauty. Even the ferociousness of his expression spoke to something mysterious. Scar aside, it was the black depths of his eyes which hinted at something dangerously intoxicating.

The intensity of his expression pinned her in place; perhaps he waited to see her reaction to his disfigurement. She couldn’t help but reach out, her frozen fingers trembling as she tried to trace the contours of his majestic face.

He grabbed her wrist. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

She drew back, or tried to. His grip tightened, dragging a strangled cry from her throat. He pulled her close, close enough for the heat of his breath to warm her cheeks.

“Get a good hard look at it, city girl. Take your fill, but don’t ever assume you can touch me like that again. I’m not some circus freak.”

“I didn’t—”

“Hey,” a gravelly voice called out. Light spilled from an open doorway onto the expanse of untouched snow. “Drake? Is that you?” The man gave a low whistle. “Whatcha got there?”

Drake released her wrist, practically tossing her aside. “Road rat,” he said. “Found that pack and picked up a straggler.”

“She don’t look like no straggler.”

“Bert will take care of you, city girl.”

She swallowed and then waved to Bert Winston, llama rancher. “Hi,” she said. “My name’s Abby.”