Page 1 of Desired By the Lumberjack

1

LAUREL

I grit my teeth, my knuckles aching as I squeeze the steering wheel even harder, and squint through the windshield. My lights are barely cutting through the darkness, snow whirling through as the storm I underestimated rages around my car. Wind shrieks, and a gust hits the left side. My vehicle shakes, and I'm suddenly sure this is the dumbest thing I've probably ever done.

"No probably about it, Laurel," I say, and it sounds exactly like something my friend Glory would tell me. "I applaud your principles, but you've still got to be smart about it."

Talking back to myself. "Well, you can't stop now. The only way out of this mess is through it."

I creep up the mountain road, trying to keep an eye on the GPS display and watch where I'm going. At the last second, I realize the curve I thought was a few hundred feet ahead is actually right here, and I turn, desperately hoping I'll make it.

Except I don't. My car slips to the right, and I pump the brakes, but there's no traction. My car starts to spin, and I scream, sure I'm about to slide right off the mountain.

With a squeal of metal, I crash into something solid, and my cell phone clatters against the floorboards. A heavy column of snow lands on my hood, and I sit there for a moment, my heart racing. My hands are shaking as I lean my head against the steering wheel. It takes all my focus to drag in some deep breaths, searching for an element of calm in the moment. I'm still alive, that's what matters. My car is wrecked, but that's fixable. I hope.

Something taps against my door window, and I cover my mouth to stop the scream that almost escapes me.

Another tap, and then the handle clicks, and the door is yanked open. Cold air spills in, snow blowing into my hair, and I'm looking into the angry eyes of a bearded man I've never seen before.

"Thank you," I yell, grabbing him around the neck and pulling him in for a grateful hug. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

He grunts, and after an awkward pause, a big meaty hand comes up to pat my back, even though I'm sure my grip is choking him. I force myself to relax my hold. Even if I can admit to myself how safe I instantly felt with his big presence right there.

"I'm sorry. Really. I was just so relieved to not be alone that when you opened the door, I attacked you. That was rude."

"Well, with that kind of grip strength, seems like you must be all right." In the dim light of my car, his dark eyes scan over me, assessing and very competent. "Don't see any blood. Did you hit your head on anything?"

I think back, trying to organize the events, but there's nothing I can think of. Just that feeling that the car was sliding and then the dizzying spin, before coming to a sudden, abrupt, stop.

"Um, no, I don't think so. Everything happened so fast. But I feel like I'm all right."

He nods, then steps back. "We can't stay out here very long in this weather. My truck's right over on the road." He steps back, and I can just make out the distant shine of headlights up above us through the whirls of snow.

I reach down and push the button to release my seat belt, but nothing happens. A couple more attempts, still nothing.

"I think it's broken." He leans down into the space, and it strikes me how big he really is. His broad frame fills the opening and in the tight quarters, I'm hit with the heady scents of cinnamon, rum and vanilla, all blended together. All coming from him.

"Do you trust me?" he asks. It's a strange question considering the circumstances we're in, but there's really only one answer.

"Yes."

He gives me what may have been an attempt at a smile, but then he reaches back and pulls out a giant knife. The sharp blade gleams in the low light, and the urge to scream is hard to fight as he points it at my stomach. Then slices easily through the nylon strap holding me in my seat.

The breath I was holding escapes me in a shaky exhale. He returns the knife to where it came from, and then backs away, offering me his hand to hold as I clamber out of the car, barely remembering to grab my bag before he shoves the door shut behind me.

"Don't worry. I put it back in the sheath," he says, as I check for any sign of the knife. He holds his hands up, showing me they're empty. "See. Completely harmless."

I laugh, nerves taking over. "Hardly. You're enormous." I gesture at myself. "And I'm not."

"Fair point."

We begin making our way up the incline to where his truck is waiting. I'm shivering almost instantly, my thin coat and tennis shoes not remotely the kind of clothing necessary for this weather. With each step, I'm sinking deep into the heavy, wet snow, and it's getting harder to lift my feet.

Suddenly I'm lifted free of the dense mass, cradled in the arms of the man who found me. Saved me. He lifts me like my weight is nothing to him, even though he's climbing a steep rise with deep drifts hiding any sign of the ground beneath. He wraps his open coat around me, tucking me against his chest and blocking some of the frigid wind. Heat radiates from his body, and I cling to him all over again. My hands around his neck, my face pressed up against the soft flannel of his shirt, the comforting scent of this man I don't know, soothing all the worries I have.

I'm tired, and the urge to just go to sleep here in his arms washes over me.

"Hey," he says, tickling my forehead with his thick beard. "None of that. Not yet. We've got to get you somewhere safe and warm before you're allowed to fall asleep on me."

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