Page 7 of Liberated By the Logger

As expected, the path is unkind. My feet slip over the mud and wet rocks and I nearly fall on my ass, but right myself without dropping her. My need to keep her safe has me super focused on watching where I step, continuing to put one foot in front of the other.

When we finally make it to my truck, I practically toss her inside the passenger’s side of the cab before running around the hood and jumping in. I turn over the engine and crank the heat to max. Grabbing an old wool blanket under the passenger seat I keep for emergencies, I tuck it around her until she’s cocooned and the only visible part of herself is her face. The woman is curled into a tight ball in the passenger seat, teeth chattering and eyes squeezed shut.

My heart clenches in my chest. Poor sweet thing.

“Hold on.”

I throw my truck in reverse, steer us around, and drive as quickly as I dare down the logging road. More than once, my truck slides in the mud, nearly causing us to spin out of control. My tire chains are no match for these conditions. I grit my teeth, fighting the wheel until my truck hits the asphalt on the main road down the mountain.

The main road isn’t a lot better with fallen trees and runoff water causing hydroplane conditions. It leaves me in quite the pickle.

Driving to the nearest Fort Collins hospital isn’t an option if I can’t make it off the mountain. Besides, the extra hour plus back into town will not get her body temperature regulated the fastest. My cabin is the closest safe place to us. It’s stocked with everything I need to take care of her.

Not thinking twice, I head for home.

“C—C—Cold,” the little woman chatters between her clenched jaw. Her teeth are chomping together so loud, I’m surprised they aren’t busting off at the roots.

“I’m going to get you warmed up soon. I promise.”

It’s hard to keep my focus on the road when all I want to do is watch over her, but I force my attention on getting us home safe. The last thing we need is for me to flip my truck and have us stranded or worse.

Ten minutes later, I make the turn off the main road onto my long gravel driveway. Luckily, there are no down trees across our path. Nothing is worse than having to breakout my chainsaw from the bed of my truck to cut apart a tree when fighting the elements.

Skidding to a halt in front of my home, I jump out, run around to the passenger side, and pull out the nameless woman. I don’t mess around to see if she can manage walking herself. Instead, I sweep her into a threshold carry. She curls into me as I take the steps up my porch two at a time to my front door and let us inside.

Once the door is closed behind us, I lock and deadbolt it, all while holding the woman in one arm. It’s the first time I recall locking my home. Never needed to do so before. It’s not like anyone has trekked this far into the woods or has dared to mess with my shit.

However, now that I have a young woman in my care, I’m locking this place up tighter than a bank safe. Precious things should always be guarded, and this woman is no different.

Turning on my heels, I head straight for my master bathroom. The space is bigger than the main bath, with enough room for two people to move around comfortably.

Upon entering my bathroom, I set her down on the toilet seat before I spin around to turn on the walk-in shower. The space fills with hot steam, making me sweat in my rainwear. I tear off most of my layers, kicking off my boots. I won’t completely strip down—my jeans will stay on to make her feel less uncomfortable with what I must do to help her.

I kneel in front of her, looking into her eyes with apologies.

“I’m sorry, darlin’. Don’t want to upset you, but I need to get you out of your wet clothes.”

The woman says nothing, her teeth chatter increasing.

Working quickly, I remove the few layers she has on, averting my eyes to maintain her modesty. Ogling her while she’s completely exposed and without her consent is not something I want to be known for.

When I have her undressed, I waste no time picking her back up and carrying her into the shower with me. I set her on her dainty feet, my arms wrapped around her as I ease her into the water spray.

As soon as the warm water hits her skin, she cries out in pain. “AHHH! It hurts!”

No doubt. It probably feels like she’s being scalded when in actuality the water is a comfortable bath temp.

I grip her tighter, holding her with one arm around her waist while using my other hand to soothe her pain by rubbing her arms to get the blood flowing faster.

“It’s okay, darlin’. It won’t last long. I promise.”

After a few minutes in the warm water, her whimpers stop. Her head falls back against my chest, her slight frame going dead weight in my arms. She’s past the threat of hypothermia—it’s time to move her and make her more comfortable.

“I’m going to get you dried and dressed, okay?”

Shutting off the water, I hoist her out of the shower. She groans, barely conscious.

Once again, I set her on the toilet seat, propping her against the back to prevent her from tumbling forward onto the slate floor while I grab what she needs. I yank out a fresh towel from the cabinet beneath the sink, wrapping it around her. With another towel, I begin the delicate task of drying her off. I try to be thorough while moving quickly, not daring to let my hands rest any place on her body for longer than is absolutely necessary. I try my best not to look at her body, but it’s hard to dry her without looking at where my hands are going.