I stalk towards her, snow biting at my face, anger and relief and determination all colliding at once.
She’s safe.
She’s shaken.
And she’s not staying here another second.
CHAPTER 20
WILLOW
“She’s coming home with me.”
My brain juststops.
The words echo into the storm like they’re meant for the mountain itself, and for a second I can’t process anything beyond them.
I’m not the kind of woman who swoons at a man’s feet—and I know, logically, that he means this in the most practical way possible.
Where else would I go?
But that doesn’t stop my knees from wobbling.
He finishes the call, muttering a few more clipped words before sliding his phone into the back pocket of his fitted jeans.
Then he turns toward me, snow swirling around his broad frame, and my heart stutters.
Predator isn’t the right word.
Protector is.
“Get in the truck, Willow.”
The sound that escapes me is small and ridiculous—a squeak—and I immediately want the ground to swallow me whole.
I don’t argue. I don’t ask questions.
I just turn and head for the truck I hadn’t even registered as being there.
The wind howls harder now, ice and snow pelting my face and legs.
I lift one foot to climb in and realize too late how high the step is.
My jeans are soaked.
My muscles are stiff with cold.
My balance is shot.
I might cry.
I don’t get the chance.
He’s there again—suddenly close, suddenly solid.
His hands grip my not tiny waist, warm and unyielding, and he lifts me like I weigh nothing at all.
I gasp.
