Page 4 of Reindeer in the Headlights
I was aware of the warmth, and it wasn’t just from the roaring fire in the cabin, but also from the man’s hand that gripped mine as he helped me inside.
“Easy does it.” He steadied me as I wobbled along. “Let’s get you to the couch.”
I’d been about ready to collapse if I hadn’t happened upon that reindeer. I had no clue they were indigenous to the area, and I couldn’t see it anywhere now.
“I’m Ambrose, by the way.”
My brain figured he was telling me something important, but it took some seconds before it latched onto the word. Oh, it was his name. Ambrose. I liked the way it resonated in my head and wondered how it would sound on my tongue.
“Wyndham.”
He guided me to the ancient leather couch, and I sat down gingerly, ouching and owing as I lowered my butt. Oh gods, the relief of being out of the cold and taking the weight off my leg,which had gone from being painful to excruciating after the trek in the woods. Each step had sent white-hot pain from my foot to my shin, and I suspected if I looked down, I’d find my ankle swollen to twice its normal size.
Ambrose put more logs on the fire, and despite being in agony, I couldn’t help noticing his very fine butt as he squatted. Annoyed at being a little turned on when my situation was precarious, I studied the cabin. It wasn’t huge but cozy and tidy, and there was a small Christmas tree decorated with fairy lights in the corner. Those were what I’d seen through the woods.
“I need to look at your foot.”
He kneeled in front of me and gently picked up my foot. I hissed at the pain, and to distract myself, I studied his plaid shirt and imagined him in a cologne commercial chopping wood where he put down his ax and took off his shirt, revealing his toned abs.
Not that I was thinking about his chest or his butt or what lay under his pants. Nope. I had other things needing my attention and one of them mewed and scratched, demanding to be let out. The kitten! I’d forgotten about the little one.
Ambrose glanced up as the blanket he’d brought with him moved. The kitten was fine or at least not horrible. I reached for it, stopping short as pain shot through me.
He pulled the cloth off of the tiny creature. “Dont worry. I got your friend. He looks young.” He stroked the little guy and asked if he was okay.
“I think so. We only just met out on the road.” I explained it was seeing the kitten that had me ending up in the ditch. “He’s cold and scared, but we’re buddies now.”
Ambrose placed my foot on the floor and strode off into another room, returning with a quilt. He covered me and the kitten and sat at my feet. When he unlaced my boot, I winced and gritted my teeth.
“Sorry. This is going to hurt.”
Going to? It already hurt like heck, and when he’d eased off my boot and sock, I was gripping the sofa armrest. The kitten snuggled into me under the quilt as if he sensed my discomfort, though that wasn’t hard because I'd tensed my muscles.
“It’s very swollen. But I’m pretty sure it isn’t broken.”
That was the first piece of good news this evening. No, maybe the second one after rescuing the kitty. Or third after being saved by a handsome woodsman.
“Pretty sure?”
“I’m not a doctor, but I’ve had my share of sprains.”
I gulped when he looked at me, and for some reason, I sensed he was fibbing about the sprains. Why I couldn’t say, because living in the woods, he’d be liable to cuts, bites, sprains, and broken bones.
“I’ll get my first-aid kit and some ice.”
He vanished into the other room, and I was left alone with the kitten. This wasn’t how I’d expected the evening to go. The Christmas party would be in full swing, and I doubted anyone would notice I was missing. That was until someone stuck their tongue down the throat of an unwilling participant, and they’d search for me, and there'd be no one to write an incident report.
And while I’d have preferred not to drive my car off the road and sprain my ankle, it was still preferable to being at the Christmas party.
The kitten interrupted my thoughts by scratching at the quilt. His eyes were barely open, and he couldn't have been more than a few weeks old, so he was probably hungry.
“Where’s your mom, little boy? You’re too young to be out by yourself.”
Damn, it struck me that the little one probably had siblings. And if so, were they still out in the freezing weather? The mother had either abandoned them or been attacked by an animal. I held him close, as tears dripped onto his fur.
I was wiping away the tears when Ambrose returned with his first-aid kit, water, and a bag of frozen vegetables wrapped in a dishtowel.
“No ice,” he explained. “This is going to be cold.” He placed the makeshift ice pack on my ankle, and I panted, reminding me of a person giving birth in the movies.
