His gut clenched. That lightning had been too damn close, and he’d taken her down hard. She was small and breakable, and he could’ve hurt her. He ran for the door, his boots splashing through mud and pooling water. He shoved it open, hauled her inside, and then kicked it shut against the storm’s violent howl.
“Whoa,” she said, shoving wet hair off her face.
“Hold on.” He set her down in the vestibule. His fingers were stiff and numb, but he forced speed into his movements. Shedding his coat, he kicked off his boots and hustled toward the fireplace in the center of the main room.
The cabin was dark. Much darker than it should’ve been.
He crouched, struck a match, and touched flame to the waiting kindling. Fire flared, small but alive. His tension started to ease. Moving to a lamp, he flicked it on. The light wavered, flickered, and then steadied. He turned back to the shivering woman watching him.
She blinked in the glow and shook out of her coat before nudging off her boots. Water dripped onto the floor. Her blonde hair matted to her head, and mud coated her skin, clothes, and face. Shuddering, she looked at the fire and then the small lamp. “You have a generator?”
“I do. It’s hooked up automatically. Don’t you have one?”
She shook her head. “Only at the clinic and not at home. My place is probably pitch black right now.” Her lips were turning blue.
A protective surge hit him low and hard.
She scrunched her nose, glancing toward the window where rain lashed the glass. “I have to tell you, I don’t think it’s been this dark all month, and it’s still the middle of the day.” She sounded more shell-shocked than thoughtful.
“It’s closer to dinnertime than you think,” Ace said. “But yeah. That’s a hell of a storm.”
Thunder cracked overhead, rattling the walls.
He closed the distance between them, lifting her chin gently. Mud smeared along her jaw, and bits of pine cone clung to her cheek. He brushed it away, his fingers lingering against skin that felt far too cold. “Did I hurt you?” He ran his hands carefully down her wet arms, checking for injuries without making it obvious. Her clothes were soaked, her skin icy, and alarming tremors rolled through her.
“Hurt me?” Her gaze lifted to his.
“Yeah. I tackled you pretty hard back there.”
She laughed softly. “No, I’m fine. I might have a couple of bruises, but I’m definitely better off than if we’d been struck by lightning.”
The thought dragged him back to the ditch and to the white flash that had filled the forest. The crack that rattled bone. The ground shuddering under his boots like it might give way.
She turned toward the window, and her eyes widened. “Oh. I need my pack. My phone’s in it, and I’m on call. Always.”
He gulped. “Yeah, you’re right.” He should’ve thought of it. The storm had scrambled his brain, and adrenaline still ricocheted through his system. “Hold on right here.”
“No, I’ll get it.” She moved toward her boots, partially bending down.
He caught her wrist and gently drew her back. “No. You stay inside.” Her skin was cold. Not just cool. Cold enough to send a hard spike of alarm straight through him. He slipped into his boots, not bothering with his coat since he was soaked through anyway, and shoved the door open. Wind slammed into him like a living thing. Rain slashed across him, brutal and relentless, each drop pointed as a needle against his face. He bent into it by driving forward with his shoulders like he had in football years ago. His lungs burned with air that felt ten degrees colder than it had any right to be.
The yard had become a blur of water and motion. Branches thrashed wildly, and loose gravel skittered beneath his boots. The ATV rocked under the force of the wind, the pack still strapped to the rear rack with a bungee cord. He wrestled it free, his fingers numb and clumsy, then pivoted back toward the cabin as thunder cracked so violently it rattled his teeth. Another flash split the sky.
He ran harder to make it to shelter. Inside, he kicked the door shut against the storm’s furious howl. Water streamed off him in rivulets. He shook out his hair, droplets spraying across the entryway. “I think Mother Nature is pissed.”
“No kidding.” May took the pack, already digging through it to study her phone. “I’m half charged, so we should be good.”
“Honey, I have electricity. You can charge it all the way.”
She looked up, her hair frizzing around her face. “That’s a good idea.”
The fire snapped and popped in the main room, the flames climbing higher now and pushing warmth into the cabin. The air carried the scent of burning wood, faint smoke, damp wool, and wet leather. His place always smelled like that after a storm. In fact, when the four of them had been growing up, the place had smelled like that mixed with sweat from whatever sport they were playing at the time.
He pointed toward the small table by the door where a charging cord rested beside a scatter of keys and a folded map. “Feel free.”
“Great.” She glanced at her phone. “Nobody’s called in with emergencies.”
As if summoned by the thought, his phone buzzed from his back pocket. He jerked, surprised, and then pulled it free. The screen glowed stubbornly alive. “Huh. My phone survived all of that.”
