Chapter Three
Daniel surfaced as quickly as he could, then scrambled to get out of the water and into his jeans and boots. Still dripping wet and shirtless, he took the hill like an Olympic sprinter, his lungs bursting. He couldn’t slow down, not after the terror he’d heard in that scream. One horrible scenario after another ran through his head. A hiker lying at the bottom of a ravine with two broken legs. Swarmed by yellow jackets. Or worse.
He rounded the corner of the derelict cabin, and his heart lunged into his throat at the sight of the figure dangling from the rooftop, clinging to the bent gutter by her fingers. Which were starting to slip.
“Don’t let go,” he yelled. “I’m getting the ladder.” Thankfully, it was only a dozen feet away, and he quickly dragged it over. “Reach out with your leg and you’ll be able to put your foot on it.”
When she didn’t move, he realized the woman must be too dazed by fear to follow his instructions. Climbing the rungs, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her against him.
“I’ve got you.” He instinctively hugged her tighter, as though to reassure himself she wasn’t in danger of falling again. “You can let go of the gutter now.”
The metal was so rusted it would have torn off in another second. She was damned lucky it hadn’t ripped away with the impact of her fall.
The vision of what might have happened was so bloody that he had to work to gentle his voice. “Go ahead and put your hands on the ladder.”
But she still clung tenaciously to the metal gutter, her knuckles white.
“It’s okay,” he murmured in a low, soothing voice against the dark hair trailing out of her ball cap, the bright sun glossing her long braid blue-black. She seemed so small, draped in the folds of her overalls. “I won’t let you fall.”
Finally, her knuckle-breaking grip eased, and on a shaky exhale, she put one hand on the ladder, followed by the other.
“I’ve got you,” he said again as he bracketed her on the ladder. “Tell me when you think you’re ready to make it all the way down.”
She didn’t answer for a long moment, finally saying, “I’m ready.”
Her voice was soft, musical, playing an accompaniment to the pounding of his heart and the rushing in his blood.
Easing down a rung, then another, he kept his hand on her waist as they made their way together. Back on the ground, he had to force himself to let her go.
He’d never had this kind of instant reaction to a woman before. Then again, he’d never rescued a woman hanging off the edge of a roof either. There was certainly something to be said for a massive adrenaline rush.
Standing before him, she wasn’t nearly as small as she’d seemed up on the ladder, only a few inches shorter than he was. The voluminous overalls and tool belt had made her seem tiny in comparison. She was in her mid-twenties, he guessed, with high cheekbones, long lashes, blue-as-the-sky eyes, and a luscious form his mother would have smacked him for looking at the way he couldn’t help looking. Especially given that he had no business drooling when she was clearly still in shock.
She held on to a rung of the ladder to steady herself, her eyes scrunched closed as she said, “I don’t know what happened. One minute I was on the roof nailing down the tarp—and the next I was clinging to the gutter for dear life.” She opened her eyes and looked up at the roof. “I guess it isn’t that big a drop, and I might have been okay if I’d fallen, but it all happened so fast, I couldn’t think straight.”
She turned to him then, and both her eyes and her mouth opened wide as she looked from his bare chest, to his wet jeans, then deliberately down to a big rock sticking up out of the ground ten feet away.
He’d completely forgotten he was shirtless—or that his jeans were sticking to his thighs like a second skin. All that had mattered was getting to her as quickly as possible.
“I’m standing here babbling,” she said in a voice that suddenly sounded a little breathless, “when what I should be saying is thank you.”
There were a good half-dozen nice things he could have said to get her over the shock of falling from the roof—starting with You’re welcome—but as the full impact of what might have happened slammed into him, he was blinded to anything but the danger in which she’d so foolishly put herself.
“You might have broken a leg.” His voice was harsh from the realization that he could just as easily have found her on the ground. “Or worse, depending on how you fell. First of all, you shouldn’t have gone up on the roof alone. And second, you should have secured yourself. Your roof has a helluva steep incline. Why didn’t you wait for someone—if not someone you hired, then friends or family—to help you do the work?”
He thought he saw sorrow darken her ocean-blue eyes for a split second before she threw her shoulders back and said, “I’ve been doing a pretty darn good job of fixing up this place without anyone to help me.” Her expression turned rueful as she admitted, “Until today, at least.”
He forced himself to drag his gaze away from her to eye the cabin. “I thought they were going to tear this place down.” The wood siding was sun-bleached, the window frames cracked, and the front porch, visible around the corner of the house, sagged like an old couch. On closer inspection, though, he saw she’d replaced the rotted boards by the front door.
He couldn’t believe anyone would buy this place. He didn’t know if he admired her for it…or just plain thought she was nuts.
As though she could read his mind, she put her hands on her hips and said, “I can fix it.”
“Right.” He meant it noncommittally, just a word to say to a beautiful woman who was making odd things happen inside his chest.
But she took it as a challenge. “I’m still working on the roof, obviously. But I’ve done a lot inside. Here, I’ll show you.” She marched up the porch steps, assuming he would follow.
Naturally, he did, enjoying her vivid defiance—and her surprisingly luscious curves—more than he’d enjoyed anything in a very long time. Even if he was still upset with her for getting up on the roof without a safety line.
But before he could get all twisted up about that again, he suddenly noticed the words stitched on her ball cap. “Do I need to worry?” He pointed to the top of her head.
She ran her fingertips over the lettering, saying aloud what was printed across the cap: “Zombie Apocalypse First Responder.” She shrugged as though it was a perfectly normal hat to be wearing. “Trust me, you’ll be happy for my training if a zombie ever comes this way.”
She didn’t see the smile he couldn’t control as she turned.
Hell yes, he’d follow. His mother would have used the word smitten. But really, the woman was too damn cute not to capture the attention of any red-blooded male within smiting distance.
Then again, what kind of woman bought a place like this? The red-blooded male inside him obviously thought she was perfect—but given that she was working on a house in the mountains all by herself, he couldn’t deny the likelihood that there might be something strange going on with her.
Especially when calling this cabin a house was…generous. The floor and walls were bare except for a standing kitchen sink, a makeshift wooden counter to hold a microwave and a laptop, a couple of boxes on the floor filled with kitchen paraphernalia, an air bed in the corner by the wood stove, one sling chair, and a camp stove. The kitchen itself was missing both appliances and cabinetry. The only convenience besides the sink was a mini-fridge that would fit milk and yogurt and not much more.
“The fireplace was starting to crumble, so I put in a wood-burning stove that keeps the place nice and toasty.” She flourished her hand as if she were showing him an array of sparkling diamonds.
She’d done a surprisingly good job tearing out the old stone and installing a large wood-burner with a sensible catalytic converter. It would heat the kitchen and family room, with a hint of warmth for the bedroom too.
Noticing his glance at the air mattress, she toed it with her booted foot. “It’s surprisingly comfortable, and it’s even got its own pump. The only problem is that when it’s cold, the air inside goes cold too, so I have to pile as many blankets underneath me as I do on top of me. Which is why I dragged it in here.” She gave a nod to the bedroom. “Also because there’s a couple of holes in the floor in there—well, maybe more than a couple.” She gave him a sheepish grin. “I didn’t want to break an ankle in the middle of the night.”
Her voice was like a shower of music over him, and he didn’t say anything in order to keep her talking.
She twirled in the middle of the room, her arms out. “I put up insulation and Sheetrock on the inside because you could see right through the wood siding in places, where the wind whistled through at night. It needs taping and texturing, of course, and then I can paint it,” she added, as though embarrassed at the bareness of the Sheetrock. “And some of the floorboards were rotting, so I replaced those. But I’d really like to lay down a proper subfloor and hardwood. Or laminate.”
“Hardwood,” he suggested, though she hadn’t asked for his opinion.
She was completely animated now, showing him her accomplishments, pride bringing a rose blush to her cheeks. Despite his initial impression that the place was a dump, after her mini-tour, he was amazed by everything she’d done, seemingly by herself.
“Where’d you learn how to do all this?”
She pointed to a laptop. “YouTube videos and do-it-yourself shows. It’s amazing what you can learn on the Internet. I figured out how to install a toilet and a new shower, plus a vanity and sink. I just have to do the tiling. Then of course, there’s the kitchen. And the roof. But I need to wait for more consistently sunny weather before I tackle that.”
“You did all this yourself? From scratch, without knowing a thing?”
“Well, yeah. I don’t watch just one video before I start a new project. I view a bunch, because everyone has different techniques. When you combine them all, everything works like magic.”
Her smile knocked him sideways. Again.
“Do you want to see my toilet?” She pointed behind her to an open door just outside the bedroom. She was already backing toward it, her eager gaze tugging him.
He laughed, something he couldn’t remember doing with a woman he was attracted to in, well, long enough that he simply couldn’t remember. “A woman asking if I want to see her toilet is definitely a first.”
She clapped her hand over her mouth, her words muffled behind her palm. “Oops. Sorry. I didn’t think about it. It’s just been so long since—” As if he’d waved a magic wand to put her to sleep, something shuttered in her eyes.
Wishing he’d kept his damned mouth shut, he said, “I’d love to see the toilet.”
She didn’t laugh, didn’t even smile. “That’s okay. I’m sure you’re busy. And it’s enough that you helped me off the roof. You don’t have to be wowed by every single nail I’ve hammered too.”
But he wanted to know what she’d been about to say before she caught herself. Yes, she was far from the perfect woman he’d been wishing for an hour earlier, but he still liked her enthusiasm, her excitement. “I’m working on my own cabin down the hill from you. It would be good to see how you’re approaching things.”
Before she could turn him down again, he sidestepped her to check out the bathroom. She’d installed a standard porcelain floor-mount next to a neat vanity with a wood bowl sink, its faucets and fixtures gleaming. The shower was a free-standing, European-style corner unit that he’d recommended on his show, with the drain in the floor.
“It looks great,” he said, meaning it.
“I’m going to put in a tile backsplash,” she said softly, “with blue and green glass. I just have to figure out what paneling to use that won’t clash with it.”
“There’s a style that looks like a log cabin if you’re interested.” He stocked it in his stores.
She tipped her head, considering it. “I could see how it might work, but I really want the blue-green glass.”
“You could still do that. Just leave space in the paneling.” He tipped his head too, almost touching hers. “But I’d recommend doing the tile from wall to wall, not just over the vanity itself. Better continuity. Maybe if you have any drawings for what you’re planning, I could show you exactly what I’m talking about?”
“Well,” she said slowly, as though torn about taking him up on his offer, “I don’t have any formal drawings. But there is a video that’s pretty much in line with my plans.”
“Great,” he said, already heading over to her laptop before she could change her mind.
She typed in the name of the website, then scrolled down the page to the video she wanted to select. A beat later, his face filled her screen, his voice pumping out over the onboard speakers.
“Oh my God.” She hit the pause button at a particularly unflattering moment, his open mouth and squinted eyes flash-frozen on the screen. “What did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t. And you didn’t say yours.”
“You’re not—” She pointed at the appalling freeze-frame.
“Daniel Spencer.”
She gazed at him in horror. “Is that a yes, that’s me, or just a no, that’s just some guy who happens to look and sound like me.”
“Yes, that’s me.”
She groaned, covering her face with both hands. “I can’t believe this. I’ve been watching you for hours and hours, and I still didn’t recognize you.” She peeked out from between her fingers. “In my defense, can I say that I’ve mostly just watched your hands in the videos to see what you’re doing with the wood or tile or pipes?”
Nothing about her words should have made the cabin suddenly feel hot. But just thinking about her watching him—even if she really had been looking only at his hands—made the fire that had begun to burn inside of him the moment he’d pulled her against him on the ladder jump at least a dozen levels hotter.