With a groan of deep discontent, I trudge down into the clearing where the turkey was huddling, then I keep going over a ridge and down until I get a view of the road. A white SUV is wedged against a pine tree. I can see movement inside.
Moving one hand to the pistol at my side, I creep closer. Something in the snow catches my eye. Leaning down, I find prints. Big ones.
“Dammit, Leonard.” I stand again and curse the big white lynx that likes to run these woods, play in the road, and rummage through my garbage. Looks like he’s also into causing car accidents.
“I don’t know!” I hear a woman’s voice as one side of the SUV opens. “I can’t see much. Bells, are you awake?” She leans back into the car, her nice ass on display. “Should I call for help? I haven’t had a signal in an hour or more. Bells! Come on, wake up.”
A groan wafts from the car.
“Yes, come on. Wakey wakey, eggs and bacey!”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” Another groan.
I stop and watch the woman with the round ass. My cock begins to act up, but I ignore it. These people need help, and though I’m not exactly the sort of man you want helping you out when you’re stranded in a snowstorm, here I am. The more I watch the blonde, the harder I get, and the more interested I am in exactly how this is going to play out. How long has it been since I’ve spoken to a woman other than Sable at the grocery store or Jenny in the Tiny Diney?
Movement in the trees catches my eyes, and I glance up at the ridge on the other side of the road. I pull up my rifle and use the scope to sight in on the area. “Leonard, you up there?” I whisper, my breath turning to vapor in the chill air. I don’t see the cat, but I can feel eyes on me. I scan the ridge, looking for whatever caught my eye, but there’s nothing.
I drop the rifle to my side again, then skid down the slope, catch myself on a tree with ease, then jump down to the icy road.
When I stand straight up, the blonde is staring at me, eyes wide, mouth open. What a pretty picture. Her lips are pink, her cheeks even pinker, and I see she has a nice rack to go with the plump ass. Damn, what a fine woman.
“We, uh, we …” She blinks and pushes her glasses up, the pink frames only highlighting the softness of the rest of her.
“There was a cat,” someone inside the SUV groans. “A big one.”
“You all right?” I walk up to the blond beauty.
“We hit the tree,” she says it in a dazed way. “And then you came out of the woods.”
“Bells is hurt.”
“I’m fine,” she calls.
The blonde turns. “No, you aren’t. The car is busted, and you got banged up. Aurora?” she asks.
“I’m fine. But I think I may have lost my Airpods,” someone else grumbles.
“Three of you?” I ask.
The pretty blonde nods. “We were trying to get to Frozen Falls, but we got lost in the storm.”
I step even closer and get the slightest whiff of something sweet. Like vanilla, or the icing on a cupcake with sprinkles.
“I’m Charles. I’ll get you to Frozen Falls.”
“I don’t know.” She wrings her hands. “I mean, you just came out of the woods, and we don’t know you.”
I look up. “Hate to say it, but you don’t have much choice. The next storm front is supposed to hit within the hour. We need to get to shelter.”
The engine groans and tries to turn over, then stops. “No dice,” the one called Bells says. “I guess we need to go with him, Clover.”
“Clover?” I look down into her big green eyes.
“Yes.” The pink on her cheeks deepens even more.
I have the strangest urge to stroke her cheek, just so I can feel how soft she is. How warm.
I clear my throat and try to push away the out-of-place thoughts. “We need to get moving. Take only what you can carry. My truck is a quarter of a mile, maybe a little more.”
She looks up at the sky, indecision in her eyes.
That urge hits again, and this time I give in and press my palm to her cheek.
Her eyes widen in surprise.
“You can trust me, Clover. Okay? I’d never hurt you.”
“Hands off, strange man of the woods.” Bells climbs into the passenger seat, then steps out and gives me a vicious look.
“Sorry.” I drop my hand and step back.
But I don’t miss the way Clover licks her lips. And I definitely don’t miss the way she doesn’t take a breath until I break our gaze.
3
Clover
Bells tried to stand up straight but sways on her feet. Her voice might be firm, telling the mountain man Charles to keep his hands and his eyes to himself, but I can tell she’s in pain. I have no doubt she is going to try to hide every second of it.
I give her a once-over, but I can’t see any visible damage to her. That doesn’t mean she’s not hurting still. She was the one that took the impact of the crash. It’s only a matter of time before she really starts to feel that.
Not wanting her to do anything she doesn't have to, I open the back-passenger door. If I wasn't in the middle of a full-blown freak out, I might laugh. As always, Aurora looks ready for a runway and she’s not even trying. All of her beauty and poise is natural. Some people have all the luck.
I truly believe a big reason why she seems to have a glow around her all the time is because she’s made up of kindness and sweetness on the inside. There isn't a mean bone in her body. Not even one mean enough to rip that jerk face Kent a new one. I think he knows that too. Predators often do. They sense the sweetness and good in people and pounce like the monsters they are.
“I got you guys into this mess.” Aurora’s voice is filled with tears.
“We’re in this shit together,” Bells says before I can respond.
“We wanted an adventure, and it sure as heck looks as if we're going to get one!” I put on a bright smile. The last thing I need is for Aurora to burst into tears. “Plus, look” I point over my shoulder. “We found a hot mountain man.”
Aurora snorts a laugh at my teasing. Most likely because I never openly call a man hot. The tears in her eyes start to fade away. My work here is done for now. I’m holding on by a tiny thread, and I don’t need Aurora having a breakdown when I’m so close to one myself.
“Guys. Our little Clover just made him blush.” I look back over my shoulder to Charles. Pretty sure that’s the cold doing that to his cheeks. He doesn't deny or defend himself. Truthfully, I don’t think he cares why we think his cheeks are red one way or another. He does, however, keep staring right at me. I try not to fidget at that.
I might be what many like to call the mousy type, but I am the first to get into anyone’s face when it came to Aurora. But this man has me fighting the urge to not fidget and retreat back to my high school years when my hormones were all over the place.
“Is it night out?” Aurora asks. Bells and I both break out in much needed laughter. I reach up and pull the glasses off her face. Her eyes are still puffy and red from crying. As much as I hate seeing that, the hot flash of anger I feel warms me.