Strong hands rub mine, kneading them as if trying to warm them.
They are cold—but my face is hot. My hair is damp.
I hate when my hair is wet and on my neck. I try to squirm and lift it, but Josh won’t let go of my hands.
“Easy.”
My eyes fly open and then squeeze shut.
That is not Josh.
The hands let go of mine, and I feel them at my ankles, tugging off my boots.
Eyes open again.
There is a devastatingly handsome “mountain man” type rubbing my ankles and feet, peeling off my wet socks with a look of concern as he kneels beside me.
“Mr. Fenclan?” I whisper.
“No, I’m Nigel, but I know Ian Fenclan.”
I don’t sit up yet, still confused, but my mind is slowly cranking.
I didn’t have a bad dream. Josh broke up with me. I walked in the dark for a mile, maybe two. Maybe more. The wind picked up. The lockbox with the key wasn’t on the doorknob. My phone had spotty signal, and my calls wouldn’t go out.
“Did your car break down? Are you hurt?” Nigel asks. “Don’t seem to have frostbite, not that I can see.”
He has an accent, something gruff and a little rumbly, definitely from some part of the British Isles, but different from Ian Fenclan’s definitive Scottish brogue and booming voice.
“I got ditched at the last rest stop on I-80 before Pine Ridge,” I mumble, finally able to pull my hair away from my face. “Got a ride with a trucker, but his rig couldn’t get up these mountain roads. Saw that Mr. Fenclan had left the light on in the cabin. Walked towards it.”
“Ah. Well, thisisone of his cabins, but Klaus and Eirwen have leased it—and I’m their handyman, of Promises Kept. They have a recurring rental for part of each year—and they’re due back in a few weeks. Are yousureyou’re in the right place?”
“I thought...” I blink and rub my eyes. “Is this Hibernia Peak Lane?”
“No, that’s about half a mile back, off on the right, and it’ll lead you off towards Ridgeview Peak. Popular spot for cross-country skiing and snowtubing.”
“I must have missed it in the dark,” I realize, chest tight. I’m in someone else’s house. With some strange man.
Averystrange man. When he opened the door, I could have sworn he was a— But that’s silly. What I thought I saw doesn’t even exist. Thinking this guy had the torso of a man merging into a horse’s body was caused by hallucinations, or hypothermia, or whatever people get in freezing weather. “Are you Mr. Fenclan’s neighbor?”
“No, no. I live in town, but I’m doing some work for the couple renting this house. I can give you a lift down to Hibernia Peak Lane in a bit. You’re in no shape to move about just yet.”
I give a weak chuckle. “You’re not wrong. Still, I want to get out of your way. I’m not going to be—” I let out a shuddering sob, “good company.”
Nigel’s features harden into a frown, and somehow that makes him look even more handsome. I’m not shopping fora replacement or on the rebound; this guy is just objectively gorgeous, with a strong chin and hair with waves, everything that screams strength and masculinity in one package.
“Was someone after you? Chasing you? Who would ditch a woman in this weather, with a snowstorm coming?”
“Snowstorm?”
“Snowstorm down in the valley. Might be a blizzard up here.”
I swallow. Alone in a cozy cabin is one thing. Alone in a blizzard is another. “Can I use your phone?”
“I wish you could. I thought I might need to phone the emergency services if you didn’t come ‘round, but I’ve got no signal on my mobile, and the owners don’t have a landline. I’m pretty sure we could call 911 if you need the hospital. Might be hard for them to get up here just now. We had a pretty bad gust just before I heard you land on the doorstep. Must’ve knocked out coverage.”
“Swell.”
