“Get hellllp?” I stress the word sarcastically. “Oh shit, I knew we forgot something. Razor, why did we just hole this girl up in our cabin without trying to get help.” I pretend to knock the meat of my palm against my forehead like those old V8 commercials just to add to the theatrics.

Caitlin isn’t amused.

Her lips twist down and I watch a storm roll in over her hazel eyes. She wears every emotion on her face, it’s impossible to look away. Like when she came out here with the poker, I’m guessing she thought she looked tough or intimidating. Not like a frightened child trying to scurry into their mother’s bed after a clap of thunder.

I shouldn’t laugh at her fear, not even just inside. I can understand how she’d be freaked out to wake up in a strange bed and then find two big guys she doesn’t know waiting for her in the kitchen. Still, the way her thoughts seem to play out in every expression she wears, well, it’s a lot more interesting to keep my eyes on her than Razor, I’ll say that.

“We did try to radio for help,” Razor reassures her. If you ask me, he’s enjoying talking her off a ledge. Damsels in distress always were his type.

I roll my eyes and sigh, but then stop myself. Caitlin doesn’t actually strike me as the damsel type. I mean, now that I think about it, her coming out here to square off with us might have made me laugh, but it was also pretty brave. A damsel type would’ve tried to do something a lot more stupid. Like hop out the window in her nightgown and try to run away.

“There’s a huge storm coming down.” I point to the window. “No planes are coming in or out for a week. We were told to keep you comfortable and try our best to keep you alive, and we did,” I cut to the point.

“Well, thank you for that.” She sounds genuinely grateful. Her shoulders relax and she finishes up her stew but then that cloud rolls in over her eyes again, turning them from sweet honey to the dark, serious brown of a strong cup of morning coffee. She furrows her brows and looks down at the table.

“What now?” I can see the question forming in her mind, but I don’t know what it is.

She twists up her long, silky hair and then lets it fall over her slender shoulder, where it hangs down over her perky breasts. I force my eyes to travel back up to her face. Not that I mind. Her striking beauty is only more hypnotic now that she’s awake. The way her eyelids flutter her lashes as she searches for her words. The way the corner of her full lips twitch. The way the pink blush kisses her round face. It’s impossible to look away.

“Why am I in my nightgown?” She looks up from the table quickly and then back down, like she’s not sure she really wants to know.

“That would be his doing.” I point at Razor, tossing him under the bus as he gives me a pointed glare. “He said you needed some bandaging up.”

“You did,” he explains, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. “If you check your ribs, you’ll see you have some minor scrapes. Same story on your shins. Your other clothes were all bloody, so I changed you into something comfortable and washed them.” Pink stains the tips of his ears, making him look like that same little kid that stuttered as he tried to explain how the hundreds of newspapers ended up behind the old run-down house when we were young.

“Oh.”

That’s all she says, but I can hear the relief in her voice. Razor shoots me another pointed look telling me wordlessly that I’m an asshole and I give him a grin to let him know I’m okay with that.

I don’t mean to laugh. I know this is overwhelming for her and all that. Still, something about this small, beautiful woman taking us to task just gives me a kick. The laughter just sort of escapes my mouth and they both look at me like I’m the worst kind of person.

Maybe I am.

“And what were you doing while your friend undressed me? Watching?” She sniffs at me as an angry hue of red splashes over her cheeks.

I narrow my eyes and grit my teeth. “Listen, lady, I’ve never been desperate enough in my life to spy on some unsuspecting woman, and I didn’t start with you. Sorry to burst your bubble, princess, but I’m not into unconscious girls, and I’m definitely not into being accused of shit I would never do.” I spit out my words like venom and don’t even feel bad when I watch her eyes grow wide with fear.

Who the fuck does she think she is? I’ve given her no reason to think I’m that kind of man.

“Well, I just…” she starts to sputter.

“You know what? I’ve heard enough. If you’ll fucking excuse me, I’m going to go get some wood outside. ’Cause, you know, I’m such a piece of shit, I go out of my way to make sure that you don’t freeze to death.” I storm out of the kitchen and over to the front door.

I don’t even bother zipping up my coat, I just fling it on and step into my boots and slam the heavy wood door behind me. The wind is cold and whipping around me as snowflakes melt against my skin. Perfect, I need to cool down, and there’s no place like Alaska in the winter to do that.

But if I’m honest with myself, it’s not just my anger that’s keeping me fired up inside. Deep down, Caitlin has stirred something in me. As I walk over to the woodpile and begin to grab an armful of kindling, my anger subsides, but a different kind of heat still burns like embers in my belly. I try to push it away or ignore it, but it won’t cool off as quickly. But then, desire never does.