Page 3 of Rescued By the Lumberjack

“Grayson.” While I doubt knowing each other’s names will mean much, I return the introduction.

When she shivers against my arms, I hug her closer and try to flood her body with my heat. Her clothes are wet, and it isn’t hot. With the mist in the air, it’s a wonder how her teeth aren’t chattering.

I need to get her warmed up. Check her ankle while I’m at it. Probably get her dressed in some dry clothes before she gets sick or her skin rashes up.

My steps move faster, carrying us closer and closer to my cabin.

“So, I just want to make sure, but you’re not secretly a serial killer or anything, right?” Looking up at me with wide eyes, they’re the same color as the trees. Green like the leaves and flecks of brown like the bark. Is she serious?

“No, I’m not a serial killer.” Stating the obvious, I can’t help but wonder what kind would admit their crimes out loud?

Noticing the way she relaxes in my arms, I can’t help but believe that she’s more than trusting. While I should tell her not to trust strangers so easily, I can’t ignore how much I like the way she feels when she’s not stiff like a board.

When we reach my home, it feels like I’m carrying my wife as I push the door open with my boot. I don’t want to set her down too soon, so I end up carrying her straight to the kitchen.

Like she’s a piece of glass that’ll shatter if set down wrong, I ease her down onto the chair next to the table.

“Sorry for the mud,” she groans, looking at the mess we’ve made. The trail with my boots, what is now clinging to my clothes, and the chair she’s sitting on isn’t much to clean up. Nothing to fret about.

“It’s fine.” Grabbing the hares from her stomach, I set them on the counter to deal with once I’m done with Piper. Before I make more of a mess, I sit next to her long enough to work off my boots. As the laces lick my wrists, I try not to acknowledge the weight of her curious stare.

She keeps watching me. Less with fear, more with curiosity. Finally, she gives me a bit of relief when she looks to the side.

She grimaces as she glances over at the rabbits. “You know there is a grocery store in town… right? They’ve got plenty of cow and chicken in stock.”

My sister reacts the same whenever she sees the state of my freezer.

“I don’t go into town. Don’t need to. Everything I need is right up here.” Or so I thought.

I’m assuming this woman is from Willowbrook Ridge. If she were a tourist coming to climb, she would’ve come to the mountain better prepared. Better yet, she wouldn’t have come during such shitty weather.

Boots set to the side, I move to hunt down some painkillers. Something to help her out for the time being until I can get a better look at her injury.

“You know, I don’t think they grow these on trees,” she points out as she accepts the pills. She recognizes them by color and pops them into her mouth. Swallowing them down with the glass of water I slide her way, she sighs. “So, I’m not calling you a liar or anything, but stuff isn’t adding up here.”

Normally, if someone needs to know details about my life, I tell them to go fuck off. It’s none of their business.

However, Piper’s curiosities are making everything feel as normal as snow on a summer day.

“Someone brings me things, my sister. Can’t tell her no, she won’t listen.” Rolling a shoulder, I move to kneel at her feet. Carefully untying her laces, my brows furrow. “You’ve probably seen her. Runs a flower shop in town.”

“Daisy’s?” She lifts her brows, confirming she’s not some tourist. “She’s so pleasant! So sweet, and always with a smile. She’s your sister?”

My eyes flick up toward the surprise in her voice. “That unbelievable?”

I’m not prepared for the twin patches of pink that form on her cheeks. My eyes burn as I forget to blink, giving her plenty of time to recover.

“No, no. You two just don’t look too much alike, that’s all.” Clearing her throat, her ankle shifts against my fingers. “How bad does it look?”

Tearing my eyes back down, I stare at her pastel-blue colored sock. It’s got more brown caked around where the sock meets her skin. “Slightly swollen, but doesn’t look terrible. Give it a few hours on ice, and you’ll be fine.”

Her brows lift in surprise. “You sound like a doctor.”

I shrug a shoulder and carefully release her. The last time I had to give a diagnosis, it was telling a close friend that he’d have to lose his leg. Have to say, this is far more preferable.

Moving to stand, her head tilts back to look at me. Slowly blinking, she soon pauses. “Oh, wait. Phone. I need to tell someone where I’m at.”

Does that mean she’s jumping at the opportunity to get off of this mountain? The thought of never seeing this woman again makes it hard to swallow and my heart races in my chest. Can’t say I’m huge on the feeling.

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