JULES

I need to get out of here. Figure out a way to signal someone—get help.

The signals were all there. I didn’t initiate that lesson in humiliation. For him to call me out on my choices—what the hell? He’s a friggin’ sasquatch recluse. He should think himself lucky that I was willing to blow the cobwebs for him. Well… that ship has sailed!

I’ve never had a guy turn me down. What’s his problem? I actually felt bad for that asshole earlier. When he was gone, I contemplated what would drive someone to come and live up here. He said his wife died, and the journalist in me wants to grill him for details. How long ago? I would understand if it happened recently, and he told me he’s not ready to move on—but don’t instigate something you have no intention of following through on. Ugh. I sound like a frat boy—pissed that my date won’t put out.

I’m letting myself get distracted from the reason I came to this arctic tundra! My editor assured me I’d get this article knocked out before the first tendrils of winter take this mountain hostage. Confirms how much he knows—he’s an idiot of epic proportions. Of course, this will be my fault when all is said and done.

I’m so angry right now, I can’t even see straight! How is this my life? I told my dad that knowing how to hike would never help me in life. If I hadn’t come out here thinking the trails in Utah had prepared me for this, I’d be sitting in my favorite coffee shop on La Brea contemplating my career while topping up my tan.

Everything about this trip is ridiculous. If the storm had hit six hours later, I would have been back at the B&B. If Travis hadn’t found me, I’d probably be dead. One wrong foot and this is where I end up. I’m grateful to him, but it doesn’t give him the right to treat me like trash.

Sex is supposed to be fun. I wasn’t asking for marriage, babies, and forever—I wasn’t asking for anything. He touched me. God… the way he touched me. All rough hands and smooth skin. His strength evident in a feather-light caress, and the power coursing through every corded muscle of his arms. And, his lips… I can still feel the delicious scratch of his beard and the taste of his mouth on mine. I run my fingers across my lips, fascinated by the juxtaposition of my knight in shining armor and the angry loner who walked out on me only moments ago.

It takes me half an hour to grapple my way up onto the bed. In a shirt that smells of Travis and a pair of boxers that barely stay up, I snuggle down into the covers. I haven’t eaten since this morning, and the aroma of venison is mouthwatering, but I’m too proud to shout for him and request food. I’d rather starve to death.

I while away the hours staring at every inch of this room willing it to reveal Travis’s secrets and give me some insight into this strange man who affects me in ways I must ignore from this point on.

When I’m sure Travis is asleep, I slide down onto the floor and pull myself over to the door. If I can find something to act as a crutch, I can move around and get out of here tomorrow. It takes forever to slither my way into the living room.

He’s asleep on the couch with a picture frame in his hand. Even in slumber, his brow furrows and his jaw remains tight. I gingerly pull myself toward him stopping just close enough to really look at him. He’s striking—broad shoulders—it’s obvious he takes care of his body. His hair is perfectly messy, and the beard is sexy as hell. He’s one hundred percent alpha male—almost primitive in his overbearing nature.

I resist the urge to reach out and touch him instead slipping the frame from his grasp. The woman in the picture is stunning with a smile that would light up a room. I almost don’t recognize him at first. Without the beard, Travis looks much younger. His demeanor is relaxed, his arm slung around her shoulder. The look in his eyes as he stares at her—it’s love. He can’t even take his eyes off her long enough to smile for the camera. He looks… enchanted. Nothing like the man lying before me in fitful sleep.

I set the picture down beside him and stretch for the dining chair. If I can pull myself up, I can use it like a walker! I’m trying to be as quiet as possible, but the chair screeches across the floorboards. Travis starts to stir.

“Eli? Kiddo? Is that you?” He’s still half asleep.

“It’s Jules. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” His eyes open, and he’s up like a shot.

“What are you doing?” He grabs the frame from the floor.

“I just wanted to use this chair to help me get around. Clearly, you can’t lift and lay me everywhere. The quicker I’m up and moving, the sooner I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Good idea.” Two words that are a slap in the face.

He steadies the chair and helps me to my feet. It hurts like a mother… but I refuse to let him see it. “If there’s anything to eat, I’ll be quick and go back to my… your room. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

Without a word, he heads over to the kitchen and sets to work making both of us a plate of food. He navigates the stove with the practiced ease of a chef, and it only serves to intrigue me more. Who is he, and where did he come from? There are so many touches in this house that allude to a life before cabin fever. Before beards and plaid and hunting his own meat.

“I’m fine with cereal or something. You don’t have to cook for me.”

“I’m well aware that I don’t need to do anything.” I use my makeshift walker and hobble over to the island.

“What is with the attitude? I get it. I’m a huge inconvenience, but you can’t pull this Jekyll and Hyde act on me. What happened earlier…”

“We’re not talking about it. It was a mistake. A momentary lapse in judgment.”

“Wow. Way to make a girl feel special.”

“Fine. I’m a colossal dickhead. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” I can see the outline of his erection straining against the fabric of his pants. Whatever his problem is… arousal isn’t it. He’s attracted to me, I know it—I feel it.

He serves up our food and slides my plate over to where I’m perched.

“Thanks.”

We eat in silence sharing the occasional glance before becoming engrossed in our meals. I have so many questions. I want an explanation of what happened earlier today, but for once in my life, I’m lost for words.

With a full stomach, I shuffle my way to the bedroom and encase myself in the covers, but sleep evades me. Memories of lips, tongues, flesh, and desire dance in my thoughts as I try to convince myself I don’t care.

The snow continues to fall—a blanket surrounding the cabin as far as the eye can see. I stayed in the room as long as possible, but my built-in manners force me out the door when I hear Travis up and moving around.

His grunts and groans are followed by loud banging. He’s cleaning out the fireplace, getting it ready for another cold day. I curl up under a blanket watching his every move, but as our eyes meet, the tension in the room explodes.

“Listen, Travis. Whatever I did to upset you yesterday… I’m sorry.” I’m startled by the resounding boom of wood echoing up the chimney as he drops everything and turns to face me.

“Juliet.”

“Please, call me Jules. I feel like I’m about to get scolded for something.” His eyes soften, and for the first time, his jaw relaxes.

“I know this is the biggest cliché on the planet, but it’s not you… it’s me.” I throw my head back with a dramatic sigh.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. I’m not used to having a woman in here.”

I can’t help myself.

“What about your wife?”

“We moved here after she died. She’d have loved this place, but we were always too busy. If I’d known how little time we had, I would’ve gotten my priorities straight. I was so focused on my career, I didn’t appreciate her enough.”

“What line of work were you in?” I can see I’ve made him uncomfortable.

“Doesn’t matter now. When I lost her, I changed everything. I came here with my son… he’s four… and we’ve been here ever since.”

“You must love it here.”

“It’s quiet.” As we continue to talk, his body language becomes less combative—more open to me.

“If you don’t mind me asking… what happened to your wife?”

“Car accident. Drunk driver.”

“Oh my, God. Were you in the car?”

“No.” The silence seems to span for hours, but he needs to go at his own pace. “She hung on long enough for them to deliver Elijah. She never even got to meet him.” Suddenly, his frost demeanor makes sense. I can’t even begin to contemplate what he’s been through.

“I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks. Yeah… no one knows what to say, and to be honest… I’ve never wanted to talk about it.” The sincerity in his voice is disarming.

“Just tell me to shut up. It’s the journalist in me… always wanting to ask a million questions.” He shifts to the couch putting some space between us.

“What kind of journalism do you do? Who do you work for? Why are you here on the mountain?”

“Nothing exciting.”

“I wanna know.” He presses with genuine interest.

We chat back and forth—me babbling on about my aspirations—him following every answer with another question. He might be the only person I’ve met who seems as intense about journalism as me! I wonder if that’s what he used to do. I could see him being good at it. His sexy smile and raspy voice would make any potential source putty in his hands.

He seems amused by my blatant disgust for what puts bread on my table right now.

“Laugh it up, chuckles.”

“I didn’t mean to laugh. I admire your dedication. You’re easy to talk to, and I’m not exactly the social type these days.”

“So… you haven’t dated since…” The words trail off when I realize what I’m asking. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

“You are the first woman I’ve felt beneath me since Angela died.”

“Oh.” The gravity of the situation washes over me like a cool breeze, giving me goosebumps. He moves back to where I’m sitting at the island pulling the barstool closer to me.

“It felt… right.” He pauses, looking for something in my gaze—acceptance? “That’s what bothered me. It wasn’t wrong or strange. I’ve never even thought about moving on, I’ve been so focused on Elijah. This… you… took me by surprise.”

Reaching out my hand, I caress his face as he leans into my touch.

“She wouldn’t want you to shut yourself away forever. You’re young. She’d want you to move on and be happy.”

“I know. I just… feel guilty. The way your lips felt on mine. The warmth of your pussy against my hand… I wanted to lose myself inside you. Is that wrong? She was the love of my life.” I’m mesmerized, running my thumb gently over his lips. He flicks his tongue over the tip, sending a jolt of electricity through my body. “You don’t know me, and we’re going to be holed up in here for a few days before I can get you back to town. I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

I’m overcome with sensation—my rationality all but gone. I lower my hand to his chest, his heart pounding beneath my palm. I can’t explain it. We’ve spent more time fighting than getting to know each other, but he makes me feel things… I haven’t had such an urgent desire to be with a man before. Boyfriends have come and gone, and it’s been fun, but the moment they left, I didn’t miss them. I never craved someone’s touch.

“It’s not wrong. It’s natural. Life goes on whether we want it to or not. If you live in the past, you’re never going to be happy. Maybe we have a couple of days of mind-blowing sex, and when it’s time to leave, we say goodbye. No strings, no promises. Would that be so bad? It’s okay to let go and just… feel good.” Even as I say the words, I know I’m opening myself up to getting hurt, but I don’t care. Everything that has conspired against me over the past few days brought me here—to him. Am I really going to regret this on my deathbed? Having a sexy-as-hell guy make me orgasm over and over for days. I doubt it.

“Something tells me that you’re not the kind of woman who leaves her prey satisfied.” His lips find mine in a ghost of a kiss. “I could get addicted to the sweet taste of your skin, and the way you writhe beneath me. Forget all the bad stuff and revel in the sound of you screaming my name as you fall apart. Is that what you want, Jules? Tell me what you want from me.” My skin burns with anticipation as he trails kisses down my neck. All inhibition fading with every labored breath and soft groan.

“I want you.”