Chapter 3

Natalie

Saturday 5.17pm

Hunter gets off the bed and saunters out of the room. The pain is less now but my foot is throbbing hot under the bandage he used.

I pull out my phone and stare at the screen that thanks to my clumsiness, now has a tiny dent in it.

I should probably call someone and tell them I’m up here. But the only person who’d even care can’t come to get me anyway.

I sink back against the wall and stare at the door waiting for Hunter to come back. It’s worse than embarrassing that I fell over, let alone had to have him carry me.

I can’t hear him over the rain. He could be anywhere, doing anything. He could be stealing my purse and taking my truck for all I’d know.

It’s with that thought that I move, groaning, and get off the bed, grabbing the whiskey as an afterthought.

I don’t want to risk placing any weight on my foot, so I find my balance and hop to the doorway. I don’t see him immediately, but I do see he’s been busy lighting the candles and oil lanterns my father keeps up here.

It’s still sparsely decorated, but in this light, with all the flaws hidden, the cabin looks almost homey again.

I slowly hop until I see him crouching over the fireplace. He twists and looks at me with a frown. “You’re supposed to be keeping that elevated.”

I try for a smile. “What are you doing?”

He stands and points to the hearth that is now stacked with pinecones. “The chimney is clear. I’m going to light a fire. That okay?”

I nod weakly and hop across the room to one of the chairs and place the whiskey on the table. “Good idea. I wanted to test it out before I left anyway.”

He doesn’t reply, and by now I’m not expecting him to. The flames catch, and the pinecones start to crackle pleasantly. The entire scenario is pleasant. Even with my ankle throbbing, I like his company.

I check my watch and am a little surprised to see it’s even later than I thought. He keeps his eyes on the flames as he pokes the wood. “I think the weather might be setting in.”

My breath starts to come in a little uneven. “You think we’ll be stuck here?”

He shrugs like it’s not a big deal to him. Like he has all the time in the world. “Unless it doesn’t let up, your truck should get through fine.”

My shoulders sag a little. What is wrong with me? Do I want to get stuck up here? “Oh, that’s good,” I mumble.

He peers up at the ceiling just above the sink he cleaned. “Guess we’ll see whether I did a half-decent job fixing the roof.”

I follow his gaze to where water stains are evident even in the flickering candlelight.

I take another drink of the disgusting whiskey, and despite the warmth spreading through me, my stomach grumbles noisily reminding me of how late it’s gotten.

I can’t exactly fix him dinner, but I do have an emergency snack kit in my truck. “Um, are you hungry? I have a bunch of things in the backseat.”

His lips tug into a half-smile, but he just walks across the room and opens the door to the rain outside.

With nothing else to do but wait I pull my cell out of my pocket and check for any messages. There are a couple from my editor, one from my sister apologizing again and saying she’s tied up all weekend, but nothing from my dad.

I put my phone on the scuffed table and try not to start thinking about all the possible reasons why he hasn’t returned my phone call.

My uninjured foot starts tapping on the floor as I consider whether to phone my sister to see if she can swing by his place to check on him.

Instead of bothering her at work, I call my father again, chewing my lip as the phone switches to message the way it’s been doing since yesterday morning.

Hunter opens the door, and my brain turns to mush. He’s soaked through, t-shirt clinging to his body. I have to remind myself to breathe as he stalks across the room with the bags of food I have.

He dumps them on the table beside me and runs a hand through his hair. A drip runs down his nose, and he swipes it away. “You were right then? It’s getting worse?” I ask.

He starts looking in the bags before answering. “It’s too dark to see the track, but the ground is turning to mud.”

I shift my weight so I can place my wrapped ankle over my other foot. He pulls out a packet of cookies and shakes his head. “This is not real food.”

He doesn’t bother taking everything out, just grabs his pack and shuffles everything around until he’s pulling out a tiny camping stove, and an assortment of freeze-dried foods.

I squint at him. “Do you always carry all that with you?”

He shrugs and places the stove on the bench and starts tearing open silver packets with his teeth.

I keep my eyes on him as he pours bottled water into the pan and stirs it with a knife he pulls from his pocket.

He takes a seat at the table with me and gestures to the bottle. “You mind if I have a drink?”

I shrug. “Go ahead. It’s revolting.”

He takes a large swallow without wincing and nods appreciatively. “You don’t drink whiskey, then who does this belong to?”

“My father likes whiskey. Or at least, he used to.”

Hunter rolls his shoulders back and places the bottle back on the table. “The stew will take a while. I need to get changed.”

He pushes back from the table and starts tugging off his shirt before I can contemplate what that means.

Heat blazes over my body as he strips off his t-shirt to reveal a muscled torso and arms.

He has several tattoos including one of a red-haired woman with large breasts riding a dragon.

I know I’m staring too long, but I can’t seem to tear my gaze away from his incredible body.

My fingers reach for the bottle in the hopes I can distract myself from how gorgeous he looks standing there half naked.

I barely notice as the whiskey burns my throat. I’m too busy looking at him and wondering what on earth is happening to me.

I’ve never had such a visceral reaction to a man I barely know before. I’ve heard of it, and I’ve been attracted to men before. But I’ve never met a man like Hunter. There’s something lurking under the calm exterior. Something dangerous that makes him even more alluring.

He catches me looking but doesn’t seem concerned by my obvious inspection of him. “I got it in college.”

My entire body is getting warm as I struggle to interpret what he’s saying. “Huh?”

He gives me a crooked smile and gestures to the woman on his chest. “The one you’re looking at. I got her in college.”

I take another swallow of whiskey. “I see. Um, she’s beautiful.”

Something flickers over his face as he steps closer and takes the bottle from my hand.

His fingers brush against my skin, sending shivers running up my arm. His eyes lock on to mine, and my heart starts to jump around in my chest when he pointedly replies. “Yes, she is.”

I swallow hard as he puts the bottle back on the table and leans down to pull another shirt out of his pack.

I try not to let my disappointment show when he pulls it over his body and takes a seat opposite me again. “You really should have that leg elevated if you have any hope of driving tomorrow.”

I manage a weak nod, head still spinning with the alcohol, and the thoughts currently competing for dominion. “Um, I’ll go back to the bedroom.”

He looks at the fire. “Why don’t I bring the mattress out here?”

I’m not entirely sure that’s such a great idea with the inappropriate thoughts running through my head, but I can’t think of a reason not to be comfortable and warm.

My voice comes out as a croak. “Okay. Thank you.”

He gets up without a word and leaves me sitting alone with nothing but my raging heartrate.

The fire is getting low, and I don’t want to appear completely helpless, so I brace myself on the table and carefully place a little weight down.

I wait for the pain, but it’s already subsiding, which I’m sure is due in part to the whiskey and in part to Hunter.

As I place a few more pieces of wood on the fire, I hear him grunt as he hefts the double mattress into the room. Despite my best efforts, my interest in him only grows as he rearranges the furniture.

My entire body is conspiring against my feeble protests that this is a ridiculous attraction that is primarily fuelled by the amount of whiskey I’ve imbibed.

But there’s no denying my hormones are in overdrive when he throws the mattress on the floor, and I start thinking about him throwing me down on top too.

A low moan escapes before I can stop it, causing a look of concern to appear on his face. “You okay?”

I’m most definitely not okay right now. But I am not going to let him know that. “Uh, huh,” I mutter.

Hunter stalks back out and in seconds appears with blankets and pillows that he scatters on the mattress. “Come lie down.”

My eyes widen, pulse rapid as my mouth runs dry. He must mistake my lack of movement for pain because he crosses the room and offers his hand.

My skin is on fire as I slide my fingers into his. Head getting lighter by the second, I stumble into him and am crushed against a solid wall of muscle. “Steady,” he murmurs.

He grabs my upper arms so he’s looking in my eyes. His fingers reach up so he can cup my chin. “We should probably treat the cut on your face too.”

I don’t know whether to agree. I don’t know what I’m thinking right now. Other than how good he smells and how close his lips are to mine.

He slides his hands around my waist, and all my nerves blaze to life. I’m no longer thinking about my foot, about getting out of here, or what needs to be done.

All I can think about is whether kissing him would feel as good as I hope it will. It’s worse than reckless, but when his fingers slide to the small of my back, and his chest starts to rise a little faster, I press my mouth to his.

If he’s shocked, he doesn’t show it, just grips my waist and kisses me back. I groan into his mouth and slide my fingers under his shirt so I can run my fingers down his abs.

His voice is ragged when he pulls away so he can grip the back of my neck. “What are you doing?”

I release a shuddering breath. “Do you want me to stop?”

He grips my neck tighter and kisses me again, using his tongue to answer my question.

His hands creep under my shirt, and I reflexively place all my weight on both my feet. I inhale sharply, and he growls. “I’d rather not be worried about hurting you.”

I gape at him as he half drags me back to the mattress. “I’m okay.”

He raises an eyebrow as I struggle to lower myself on to the mattress. “That’s the whiskey talking.”

Without a word, he lifts my foot and slides the pillows under it just like he did in the bedroom. Only this time, when he finishes, he slides along the mattress and leans over me.

My arms link around his neck as he teases my tongue with his.

I pull him closer, and he shifts his weight so he’s half lying on top of me. My breath is coming out ragged as he breaks the kiss and pushes away from me. “This must happen to you a lot, huh?” I breathe.

He chuckles as he gets up, leaving me gazing up at him. “Gorgeous women kissing me? Not really.”

I scoff as he turns, effectively ending our impromptu make-out session. “I find that hard to believe.”

Given the way he kissed me back, it’s probably a common occurrence for him. He probably has women falling all over him. But he just shrugs and turns the propane off. “You can believe what you want to.”

I ease myself up and scoot back so I’m propped up on my elbows. My mouth waters as he pulls out a spoon and uses his t-shirt so he can nestle the pot and protect his hands.

I’m still trying to figure out how drunk I am when he sits on the floor and scoops up a spoonful of stew and blows on it.

He pushes it towards my mouth, and I open it almost in surprise that he’s feeding me. He doesn’t bother to blow on his own, just shovels a few mouthfuls down, then offers it to me again.

I don’t know what the hell is happening right now, but this is possibly the most erotic moment of my life.

He’s managed to make a delicious meal out of nothing; he’s feeding it to me all while looking so drop-dead gorgeous it’s a struggle to keep my hands to myself.

He leans closer, bringing the spoon to my lips as he gives me a teasing smile. I swallow, no longer tasting the food as a new hunger slowly builds.

Hunter takes a mouthful and licks the gravy off his lip. “You feeling any better?”

I’m so turned on I can’t even speak. He cleans, fixes things, takes care of me, and cooks me dinner?

“Who are you?” I whisper.

A dark look replaces his amusement. His posture switches into guarded as he puts the stew on the floor and swipes his mouth. “No one you want to know.”

He starts to rise so I reach for his arm. Hunter tenses and shakes his head. “Don’t.”

My chest starts to rise and fall too rapidly as my fingers stroke his skin. “Don’t what? Touch you?”

His eyes narrow. “Don’t look at me like that unless you mean it.”

I push myself up until I’m a hair away from him. “I do mean it.”

He kisses me one more time, and just when I think he’s about to relent, he pulls away.

I stare, incredulous as he grabs his backpack and walks away from me. “See you in the morning.”

I flop back on the mattress and stare at the ceiling while I try to collect my thoughts. None of them are positive or helpful, all of which point the finger of blame solely on me.

I turn on my side and pull the blanket over me, trying not to cry as rejection stings at my chest.

If a random stranger doesn’t even want me for a night, and my own husband lost interest, it’s becoming glaringly obvious there must be something fundamentally wrong with me.