It took me a few seconds to figure out where I was and then to remember how I’d gotten here.
Something sharp and frenzied kicked around in my chest—panic, fear, a yawning black hole ofOh God, what have I done?—only to be replaced by mortification when I realized that I was buck naked under these blankets.
As I was about to pull the covers over my head and hide out for the duration, I spotted the stack of folded clothes just inside the closed bedroom door.
Micah.
Suddenly, a fresh bout of emotion swamped me—a mix of excitement and curiosity and tenderness at the things he’d done, all balanced by wariness. He was a stranger, after all. And I was stuck here in his home. I came out of this wave with tears in my eyes.
This was overwhelm like I’d never felt in my life. Shock, probably, from almost dying and getting literally torn from my car just in the nick of time. What a day.
My eye landed on the neatly-folded pile of clothes again and I had to work hard not to break down and cry. No. No, I wasn’t letting any of that crap turn me into a slushy pile of emotion. The thing I’d hold onto here—the thing that mattered—was that I was apparently the luckiest woman on earth. And I planned to live like it.
Full of excitement, I went to get out of bed and just stopped myself from collapsing on the floor.
Once I got my footing, I made my way to the door slowly, like an old lady—except not Gran, who was absurdly spry—I struggled stiffly into the clothing. Every movement involved testing the body part first. Neck, back, arms, chest, and places I hadn’t realized could ache, like the side of my waist. I felt like I’d been bulldozed in the night.
My need to pee made my slow pace feel like a particularly sadistic brand of torture.
Clad in black long underwear, which I’d had to fold over at the sleeves and waist and legs, though it was tight around my boobs and butt and thighs, I stuck my head out the door.
Coffee. Oh my God, that smelled good.
And it confirmed what I’d decided moments before—I was, in fact, the luckiest woman alive.
Quickly, I slipped into the bathroom where I sank onto the toilet with great difficulty, rose with even more, then rubbed some toothpaste on my teeth, and washed my puffy face with ice cold water. My underwear and bra were nowhere to be seen. Okay. I wouldn’t be embarrassed about the fact that he’d picked up my panties. Or about walking out there braless.
Another scent slid under the door. Bacon. Luckiest. Ever. My mouth watered. If anything would get me to leave this room and face the big man who’d saved my life, it was bacon.
Okay. Here goes.I took a breath in, opened the door, and almost tripped on the ill-matched pair of dogs—Bear and Brownie.
“Told you to give her space!” Micah’s voice was gruffer in the morning. Was he annoyed that I was there? Had he gotten any sleep? I shouldn’t have taken his bed. Swamped with guilt, I avoided looking at the messy sofa—avoided looking up at all—turned the corner…
And ran into hot, hard man-chest.
His hands came out to steady me, lingering on my shoulders before setting me back, gently.
“Sorry,” I mumbled.
“How you feeling?”
“Good.” I forced a smile and met his eyes.
“You’re full of shit.”
I let the smile drop. “You got me.”
He lifted his chin toward the sofa. “Sit. I’ll bring you breakfast.”
“No. I need to get home. You’ve done way too m—”
“Girls. Herd her to the sofa.” He turned to the stove and my eyes traveled down his top half. Dear God, he was muscular. His naked back wasn’t just big, but hard-looking, with indentations where I’d never actually seen them before. I looked down to his butt in olive green cargo shorts, and down.
“Oh! I’m—”
I blinked at his legs: what I could see of one thick thigh, sprinkled with dark hair went on to a sturdy knee and a finely-chiseled calf, ending in a dark grey slipper. On the other side, what looked like a black stocking encased his thigh below his shorts, a space-age metal contraption emerging from the bottom. He had a prosthetic leg. I got that. I understood it, but it didn’t compute with what had happened last night.
“How’d you do all th—” My hand flew to my mouth to stop me from saying whatever stupid crap I’d been about to say. And then, because he kept his back to me, I said it anyway. “You carried me up a mountain last night.”
