3
Emery
I can’t believe all this is happening to me. Even crazier, I can’t believe I’ve been rescued by a guy who looks like he belongs in the trees he’s appeared from.
This guy is a force to be reckoned with. Even more, he’s carrying me without breaking a sweat. There’s no denying that I don’t have a little weight to my limbs, but he’s moving like nothing could possibly stand in his way.
It’s my leg, of course. Sure, it stopped bleeding not too long ago, but the longer it goes without being treated, the worse it’s going to become. He’s set on taking me somewhere safe.
The hike is silent at first, but at the realization that his cabin isn’t right around the corner, I don’t have any option but to be the one to speak.
Callan doesn’t seem to be the talkative type, but he’s a pretty good listener. If it weren’t for his eyes continuously flicking down to look at me, I’d think he wasn’t hearing me at all.
“A photographer, huh?” He arches his brow as he notices the way I’m cradling my camera. “You at least get anything good?”
At the excuse to show someone something, I perk up, my injury long forgotten. “You want to see?” But before I can get the question out, I’m already pulling up the images on display. “Something tells me that you’re probably used to seeing stuff like this, but isn’t this cool?”
Tilting my chin up to gauge his reaction, I meet his heavy gaze and feel my heart flutter in my chest. Thankfully, he looks down at the screen instead of taking the time to see that my reactions are a little fishy. Grunting as I flip through my collection, he gives a curt nod. I’m taking it as a compliment.
“You come up on the mountain often?”
“Oh, no. This is my first time.” Setting my camera back down, I watch the trees as they graze by. “I’ve lived in town for years, but I’ve never come up here. Crazy that the first time I do, this happens, huh?”
He lets out another grunt that I don’t know how to decipher.
“So, uh, what were you doing before you came across my sorry state?” Trying to keep the conversation going so I’m not left alone with my thoughts and the feelings that come with being carried in this guy’s decently-sized arms, I crane my neck to look behind him.
“Hunting.”
That explains the occasional brush I feel against my back with each step. I know I saw something hanging from his belt, but a part of me hoped it wasn’t the animals I just spent my entire afternoon trying to capture in a far less final way.
“Oh. How’d that go?”
His frown somehow grows deeper. “Terrible.” Then the downward curve softens. “But then I found you.”
I can’t help but notice the way his voice loses its gruffness at that. Heat forms on my cheeks for some reason. Is it because he doesn’t sound bothered by me?
Before my cheeks can burn too hot, he’s clearing his throat.
“This is it.” Jerking his chin, I follow his gaze to see his cabin.
Unlike him, it’s more on the smaller size. For just one person, it’s probably perfect. Surrounding aged wood is a breathtaking view of a small pond and trees. Looks like a nature-lover’s wet dream.
“Whoa.” Amazed, I shake my head in disbelief.
His chest vibrates with an approving rumble before he continues forward. Once we’re up a set of steps, he carefully sets me down to unlock the door. As soon as the door is swinging open, he’s already reaching over to pick me back up.
“I think I can walk a little. You’ve already done plenty, more than I can ever thank you for.” Especially since I know he had to feel it, even just a little, since we took on what had to be close to a mile.
Callan stares like he doesn’t understand the words before his frown is back in full force. “I don’t want you hurting yourself again. Let me, Emery.”
Hearing him use my name does enough damage to make me want to keel over. Thankfully, I keep myself from embarrassing myself by keeping myself upright. Not wanting to bother him, I tap his arm in passing and prove to him that I’m really okay by limping my way inside.
The pain I feel is nothing more than a low throb. Once I’m off my feet and I’ve stolen a few of his painkillers, I’ll be back to my normal self. I hope, anyway.
Hearing him grumble something under his breath, I keep moving my way inside his home.
The inside smells like woodsmoke and pine. The crackling coals at the fireplace explain the first half, and the man closely following behind me explains the other.
