“Boy, get your furry ass over here.” The man claps a big, gloved hand against his denim covered thigh. He’s bundled in black and gray flannel from mid-thigh to his head, where...yep, there’s an animal. Kind of matches the guy’s dark, scruffy beard.

And that axe. Let’s not forget about that huge, mothertrucking axe.

My eyes locked on his weapon, I mentally retrace my steps back to the road. I’ve already broken ground, so theoretically I should be able to get out faster on the return trip, right? Maybe even run?

“Traitorous goddamn mutt,” the burly man grumbles, less intimidating this time, and I glance up from the dog, still poking around at my soaked legs, just as he swings the axe onto his shoulder.

I almost pee my pants where I stand.

“So, you lost?” he asks gruffly, and I gulp.

“N-no, sir.” Sir? Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Might as well ask if he’d like me to tie myself up, too. Maybe chop my own head off while I’m at it.

“Sir?” he laughs. “How the hell old do I look to you?”

Honestly? With the beard and the roadkill on his head, he could be twenty-five or fifty-five, it’s hard to say.

“I think I’m insulted.” He takes a step forward and my attention draws to his boots. Big, black, untied boots. I could definitely outrun him.

“S-sorry.” Sorry? Yep, Jules, just go ahead and ask him for the axe.

He shifts forward one more time, but keeps a solid twenty feet between us. “Either you’re freezing or scared shitless. Which is it?”

“Both?”

He chuckles. “You okay? Hurt or anything?”

I shake my head. “I put my car in the ditch at the end of your road.”

“Ah, that’s a bitch, huh?”

I nod and, gulping hard, point to his shoulder. “Could you put that down? Please?”

He blinks for a second, then glances at the axe, like he forgot he still held onto it. “Oh, this thing?”

Exactly like something a killer would say.

“Good thing Eddie likes you.”

“Eddie?”

“The mutt.” He nods to the dog, now leaning against my leg and sharing his warmth.

“I thought his name was Kujo.”

“That’s what we like strangers to think. Sometimes he forgets to act tough, though, and screws it all up. Like now.” Bearded Guy shakes his head shamefully. “Man’s best friend, my ass.”

The pooch nuzzles closer and I don’t even care that he’s getting me full of golden hair. The heat is really freaking nice.

“How bad is the car?”

“I’m not sure, but it’s pretty much buried. In the culvert.”

“Damn.” He nods toward the axe. “I’m gonna put this down. Don’t go ninja on me.”

Har har. Oscar’s going to hear about this, too.

Bearded Guy leans the axe against the side of the cabin and pulls off his gloves. “You know they just closed down all of the roads in Dodge Country, right? Accidents everywhere.”

“Are you serious?”

“Dead.”

My face drops and he grins.

“Bad choice of words. Sorry.” Smirking, he closes the distance between us and offers a hand. “I’m RJ and you’ve already met Eddie.”

I reluctantly tug off my glove, too, and slide my hand into his. “Julianna.”

“You live around here?”

I shake my head. “I’m traveling for work.”

“What kind of work?”

“An interview.”

“A job interview?”

What the heck with the questions? “Not exactly.”

“I see.” A smile tips up one corner of what I can see of his mouth behind the beard. He has nice teeth. “When exactly is this interview?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

“Hmm.” He sticks his tongue in his cheek and rocks back on his open boots. “Let’s hope the snow lets up by then.”

“Yeah, no kidding. They really shut down the roads?”

He nods.

Great. The biggest interview of my life and I might not even get there on time. “Look, um, I hate to ask you this, since you’re obviously busy chopping—”

“Wood,” he finishes. “No pretty brunettes, I promise.”

“Ha!” He still looks he could bury a body, never to be found, but my unease does begin to melt a little, like the snowflakes on his eyelashes. God, he has really long, really gorgeous lashes. “Do you think you could try to help me get the car out?”

“Maybe.” He rubs at his beard and then nods to my clothes. “But you look pretty wet and if we don’t get you dried off and warmed up, you’re going to have pneumonia for that interview of yours.”

Oscar would love that. “I have some dry clothes back in the car. If you don’t mind, I would love a place to change.”

He dips his chin. “Why don’t you come inside and warm up by the fire, and I’ll hop on the snowmobile and grab those clothes. You got a suitcase or something?”

Two suitcases, a Vera Bradley tote, and separate containers for both hair and makeup, but who’s counting? “Um, yeah. The pink and brown bag should do. If you wouldn’t mind.”

“Got it.” He angles the animal hat toward the front door of the cabin, then leads the way inside.

It’s a modest place. Simple, dark log exterior. Probably the same size as my two-bedroom apartment back in Chicago, but the high ceilings make this place seem so much more spacious. The decor is masculine country. Chocolate and cream-colored furniture, all plush and cozy looking, with dark wood tables and chairs. A fire burns bright in the fireplace, which, of course, has a bear rug laid out before it, sans the head, thank God. There’s no TV that I can see, but music plays softly in the background. Shinedown? Huh, I would have pegged Bearded Guy for as a Johnny Cash fan. 

“This is nice,” I finally say. “Warm, too.” My body begins to shiver at the contrast in temperature and my legs practically take off on their own to the fireplace.

“Bathroom is off the kitchen, first door on the left. I think there’s robe in the closet if you want to get the wet stuff off. Dryer’s in there, too.”

I nod and bite my lip, the reality of the situation slowly coming to light in my thawing head.

I’m in a cabin, miles from civilization with a man and his axe. I’m soaked and he’s just offered for me to get naked in his bathroom while he goes to my car. It might be buried in a snowbank, but my purse is inside, with most of my personal information.

“So, um, RJ...” I smile nervously. “Do you have a last name? Anyone else living here with you?” Before I take off my clothes.

He smirks, clearly sensing my unease. “Last name’s Scott and no. I’m on vacation. Just me and Eddie. I used to live not too far from here, though. I come back and every now and then to enjoy the great outdoors. This is one of those times.”

“Huh.” I recognize the last name, but that’s not exactly reassuring. It’s a popular name everywhere. “You’re not a criminal or anything?”

RJ laughs. “Look...Julianna, right?” I nod. “I can tell you’re nervous and rightfully so, but how do I know you’re not here to rob me blind? You could have a partner in crime waiting down the driveway, ready to peck me off, so you can take off with my dog and whatever else you can find here.”

“I don’t.” Though Eddie is really cute. I reach down and ruffle his ears.

“But you could.” He chuckles again and rubs at his beard, which in the light of the cabin doesn’t seem quite as untamed and intimidating as it did outside. “I promise that Eddie would never let anything happen to you. Clearly, he already likes you more than me.”

Now that makes me smile. “He doesn’t bark, though, so I’m not sure he’d be much help.”

“Vocal tumor a few years back. Don’t think he wouldn’t chew off an arm or a leg in five seconds flat if he had to. Even mine. No bark doesn’t mean no bite.”

Hmm.

“We’re just a guy and his dog, I swear. You got nothing to worry about here.”

Oddly enough, I believe him. Mostly. “Thank you for the help.”

“Not a problem.” He shrugs humbly, and then holds out his hand. “Keys?”

“Keys?” I blink. “Oh, crap. Um, I think I left them in the car.”

He throws back his head and laughs. “And you’re worried about me?”

Yeah, well...

“Go get out of those clothes. Warm up. I’ll be back.”

Something tells me there’s more to this man than meets the eye, but the only other option is to freeze to death.

At least the dog is cute. Kind of like his owner.

***

“Sorry to tell you, but your car’s not budging without a tow truck.” RJ bustles in through the front door fifteen minutes later, snow lining his hat, shoulders, and the top of my bag. There’s even white fluff coming out of his boots, which are still untied.

“It’s that bad?” I frown from the sofa nearest the fireplace, where my feet are slowing coming back to life on the ottoman, though I think I may have permanently numbed my cheeks.

“Afraid so. I have a buddy who can help, but he’s probably tied up with those accidents. Since you’re not hurt, you’ll be at the bottom of his priority list.”

Great. “Looks like it’s still coming down pretty hard, too.”

“Yep.” He sets my bag on the floor and kicks off his boots, snow going everywhere. The godawful fur hat follows and then he shrugs out of the flannel, and my concern about the snow melting all over the hardwood floor is quickly dispelled by my appreciation for the way his dark blue Henley stretches over his arms and shoulders. And his hair... Good Lord. It’s cut in a short, messy on top style that totally contradicts the beard. He’s like an equal mix of lumberjack and fashion model. Lumbersexual, Gretchen would say.

“Hey.” Suddenly he’s in front of me, lowering to a squat and frowning. “You feeling okay?” He presses a chilly hand to my forehead and I pull back at the unexpected chill.

“S-sorry. Yes, I’m fine. Just tired.” It’s not entirely a lie. I’ve been driving on edge for hours. It makes sense that my body would want a reprieve now that I’m off the road.

“Put some warm clothes on and take a nap. I’ll make some soup and wake you up when it’s done.”

God, those eyelashes. And those dark eyes, too. “Um, you don’t have to cook for me.”

“You’re going to be here awhile, whether you want to be or not. Might as well eat. Warm up from the inside out.”

My stomach growls, because—hello—I haven’t eaten since breakfast and it’s almost three o’clock.

“See? I know what I’m talking about.” He flashes that grin again and tips his head toward the bathroom. “Change and take that nap. I’ll get to work.”

Taking a nap in a stranger’s cabin feels all kinds of strange, but exhaustion quickly overrules pride and I give in to just a few minutes of the rest he so kindly offered.

Only moments later, a gentle hand shakes my shoulder. “Hey, sleepy head. Soup’s done.”

My eyes try to open, but the warmth I’m wrapped up in is just too perfect. And that deep voice. Mmm, I like this dream.

“Julianna...” The hand slides down to my upper arm, squeezing gently. “You’re going to be pissed if I let you sleep any longer. Come on. Time to wake up.”

“Hmm?” I groan and stretch, peeking one eye open and spotting a handsome face just inches from mine. I startle and he quickly holds up both hands.

“Not an axe murderer, remember?” He chuckles and I pull the blanket over my head, everything coming back to me. RJ. The cabin. The cute dog. My car.

“How long have I been sleeping?”

“About three hours.”

“Three hours?” I jolt upright and sure enough, it’s already dark outside. I should have been at the hotel...I don’t even know how long ago. Hours. “I need to get in touch with your friend.” I need to call Gretchen, too. My God, she’s probably called out the National Guard.

“Already called Ben. Said he probably won’t get here until tomorrow.” 

“Tomorrow? No.” I jump to my feet, shaking my head. RJ stands from his squat next the couch, too. “I have to get to that interview. My boss will kill me if I screw this up.”

“Reschedule. Delays are expected in weather like this.”

“Not with Rushton Cole, they’re not.”

His eyes widen, then he whistles under his breath. “Wow.”

Shit. I shouldn’t have told him that. “You’ve heard of him?”

He runs a hand around the back of his neck, nodding slowly. “Yeah, he’s from around here. Everyone’s heard of him.”

“So, you know how temperamental he is.”

This time, he blinks. “Really?”

“That’s what I’m told. I don’t actually know the guy myself.” Which probably makes me sounds like a judgmental bitch. “He’s not really my kind of author. This interview is my boss’s baby.”

“Then why isn’t your boss doing it?”

“Rush only agreed to me.”

“Is that so.”

“Yeah.”

“Huh.”

I don’t like his judgmental reaction, but since I was just all judgey myself, I let it go. “I can’t screw this up.”

RJ makes a throaty sound and tucks his hands into his pockets. He’s still wearing the jeans, but he’s layered down to a simple black T-shirt. “I’m sure it’ll all work out.”

“Easy for you to say.” I sigh and glance around the cozy, but bare bones cabin. “You said you’re on vacation, right? What exactly did you plan on doing here with no TV or computer?” No connection to civilization.

“Vacation. You know, chill out and shit.”

I glance back at him, straight-faced. “No, really.”

“Chill out and shit,” he repeats. “Maybe do a little ice fishing.”

Typical Minnesota-born man. “There’s no internet, is there?”

He narrows his eyes. “Nooo. Why the fuck would there be internet in the middle of the woods?”

“Because I need to get in touch with a friend to let her know I’m okay. And I need to call the hotel and let them know I’ll be late.”

“That you’ll be there tomorrow, you mean.”

“I have to get there. Tonight.”

“Your car is buried under a foot of snow, sweetheart. You’re not going anywhere, sorry to tell you.”

“How about your phone? Do you have reception?”

He shakes his head. “I did by the road earlier, but nothing now. I think the towers are down.”

Dammit. “I can’t believe this is happening.” I shove a hand in my hair and begin to pace, nibbling my lip as I go.

“There’s nothing you can do about it, so you might as well accept it for what it is.”

“Oh, really?” I laugh bitterly and Eddie sits upright, ears lifted. “What do you for work, RJ Scott?”

“I’m a contractor,” he says without missing a beat. I glower.

“Then you should understand the importance of keeping to a schedule and your word.”

“Yes, but I also understand that shit happens, too. And why are you bitching at me, anyway? I’m giving you a place to stay tonight.”

Oh, I am not staying. Not with a man whose idea of vacationing is cutting himself off from the rest of the world in Minnesota. That alone is sketchy as hell.

“Not really,” he says, and I blink at him. “You’re thinking I’m some weird bastard, hiding out in the woods, right?”

He said it, I didn’t.

“I’m not.” He lifts his palms, then gestures to the kitchen, where he’s set out two bowls of steaming soup and another with bread. “Come and eat. Talk. See for yourself that I’m a somewhat normal guy.”

The flash of modesty tugs at my gut. I really am taking this out on him and he’s been nothing but kind. “Somewhat?” I ask, trying on a softer, more considerate tone. He could have left me stranded on the side of the road.

He flashes a grin. “We’re all a little fucked up, aren’t we?”

I snort and point at myself. “Some of us more than others.”

He laughs and holds my stool as I climb on. “Nothing wrong with having personality.”

Which reminds me of all the reasons I’ve dreaded this interview. Why I’m going to dread it a little more now. Rushton Cole is a piece of work with a lot of personality and, if I screw this up, it’s not just my job that’s at risk, but my career. He could ruin me.

But as RJ so kindly pointed out, there’s nothing I can do now but wait.

Might as well enjoy the company.