Page 4 of Trig
I ran away, escaping their plan they had for me. I’d been stupid to think Father cared about me, even a little bit. Stupid to think a man would want to marry me for love. Stupid for running off into a blizzard.
The question was, where did I runto?
I sat still, listened. The house was quiet. Daylight filtered through the room’s two large windows, snow falling steadily outside. Still. God, would it never let up?
The room was neat, the wood furniture simple but well made. The walls were thick log. Between two windows hung three cowboy hats. Two white and one black. On the floor beneath were a pair of well worn boots. There were two framed photoson a dresser, but I couldn’t see much of them other than people smiling.
Next, I took in the huge bed, big enough for a giant. I felt tiny sitting in the middle with the navy comforter around my waist. The bedding was red plaid flannel, making me wonder if I was in a lumberjack’s bed.
This was clearly a guy’s room.
The cowboy.
The guy who’d saved me from a blizzard, brought me to his home and put me in his very large bed. I glanced down. He also put me in one of his t-shirts. It was soft and worn, heather gray with “Montana Bobcats” written across the chest.
I ran my hands over myself. No bra. No panties.
“You’re awake.”
The voice startled me so bad I must’ve jumped a foot. There in the open doorway was a man, the owner of this bed. Maybe he really was a lumberjack because he took up most of it. He was tall and broad shouldered. Thick. Solid. Dark hair, dark eyes. Dark beard. Dark everything, except his gaze, which somehow held warmth as he smiled at me.
In a blue flannel that was closed with only one button done, a pair of well-worn jeans with the biggest belt buckle I’d ever seen and thick socks, he looked… cozy.
Cozy? He was hot, plain and simple. Brawny. Virile. Different than the big city guys I was used to. Those who wore the same flannels and jeans but didn’t fill them out like he did. They never interested me in any way. That was why I may have been asked out a few times, but I never said yes.
Except this guy, he made my heart race and not because I was in only his t-shirt and his bed.
My mouth went dry as I kept right on staring. My heart pounded as he stared right back.
What was this? This connection? It felt like tension. Electricity. Nerves. Butterflies in my stomach. For a stranger.
“Yes,” I said, then cleared my throat, as if my voice was rusty. I kinda forgot what I was agreeing to.
He set his hand on his chest. His big hand that had veins on the back and a smattering of hair. God, looking at it was like eyeing hand porn. I licked my lips and wondered what those fingers would feel like on my skin.Insideme.
“I’m Trig Wilder,” he said, his voice deep and rough. “My friend and I found you wanderin’ in a blizzard. This is my place.”
Shit. I was imagining all kinds of naughty things with him and all he’d done was save me. He’d have done the same thing for anyone. Right?
Or was I in danger being here? Had the only axe murderer in the area saved me so he could chop me into bits?
I was insane. Why would he warm me up and let me sleep first?
I should be thankful, not thinking he was a murderer. Because I remembered climbing out of Nora’s car. Remembered how cold it was. How I’d been stuck in the blizzard so quickly.
“I remember your hat, but not much else,” I admitted.
His dark brow shot up. His hand went to his bare head, ran through his thick dark curls. “You don’t remember bein’ out in the storm?”
“Yes, of course.” I nodded, then shook my head. My fingers played with the comforter. “That, but I don’t remember coming here. Ending up in your bed. Um, what happened to my clothes?”
He stepped into the room, tucked his thumbs into his low-slung jeans pockets. He was bigger now, almost looming. I probably only came up to his shoulder.
“They were icy and wet. I had to take them off.”
All the air seemed to be sucked from the room as I looked at him because his dark eyes were on me. Focused, roving over my face, lower, at what he saw when hetook them off.
I could feel my cheeks heat under his scrutiny.
