Snowed In With The Ranger: A Rescue My Heart Prelude Page 3

  “Anything hurt? Broken?” the lumberjack asked.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Good.” Before she could do so much as blink, he slid his massive hands beneath her arms, plucked her right out of the Chevy, and set her down.

  Ivy’s feet immediately splayed like a baby deer. Instinctively, she curled her hands into his jacket and hung on. His arms tightened around her, effectively pulling her closer as he steadied them both. She was frozen through, but she’d have sworn she felt the heat of him through all their layers of clothes. He was just so big and solid. Her heart kicked into a fresh gallop, this time from something other than fear, as she held on longer than she should.

  Too embarrassed to meet his eyes, she turned her gaze toward the Blazer. The blood drained out of her head, leaving her dizzy as she took in exactly how precarious her position had been. “Holy shit. That’s bad.”

  “It’s all right. You’re safe. I’ve gotcha.” Though his voice was brusque, his hold on her was surprisingly gentle.

  Ivy risked looking up at his face. She couldn’t see much in the almost dark, past that mountain man beard. His mouth was pulled into a frown and his dark brows drew together over dark eyes that seemed to look right through her. Her skin flushed.

  “Thank you.” Flustered, she planted her feet and pushed away, though he didn’t actually let her go until she was stable. “Did you see the bear?”

  He tensed. “What bear?”

  “There was a bear in the road. I swerved to avoid it.”

  “Probably long gone now.”

  Ivy blew out a breath. “That’s a relief. Maybe there will be enough signal up top to call a…wrecker.” She trailed off as she realized exactly how far up the top really was. The glow of headlights illuminated the edge far, far above their heads. It wasn’t straight vertical, but near enough. “How the hell did you even get down here?”

  “Rappelled.”

  She scanned him, looking for a harness. “With no gear?”

  “I’ve got climbing rope.”

  And obviously he knew what he was doing if he’d made it all the way down here, but still. “You could’ve broken your neck.”

  His lips curved just a little, as if he found the idea of that amusing. “I didn’t.”

  Something about that cockiness had a hysterical laugh bubbling up in her throat. What if this was all a hallucination? What if she’d gotten a concussion during the wreck and her mind had conjured up Michael Keenan himself to rescue her? He looked about like she thought Michael would since he’d gone off the grid. What if, even now, she was still trapped in that front seat, bleeding to death from a head wound?

  He was talking again. “—no way a wrecker could even get out right now. There wouldn’t be enough traction in these conditions to actually pull your vehicle out. And that’s assuming they can actually get it out at all. Snow’s just getting worse and town is twenty miles away. We need to get out of here and to shelter. My cabin’s not far.”

  A prickle of worry skittered across her skin. He wasn’t wrong. She’d freeze to death if she stayed out here. If this wasn’t a hallucination, that meant she’d be trapped with this guy in the middle of freaking nowhere for who knew how long. She didn’t know this man, her phone was toast, and she had no other option but to trust him. He’d risked his life for an absolute stranger, not even knowing whether someone was in the car. Surely, that was another check in the Not An Axe Murderer column.

  And, come on, this was Tennessee. The snow couldn’t last that long.

  Working up what she hoped was a confident smile, Ivy looked at the rope he’d evidently used to climb down. “Okay then. Lead the way.”

  That was a fake-it-til-you-make-it smile if Harrison had ever seen one. He’d been running ascent scenarios since he got her out of the SUV. She was shaky but not terribly injured, best he could tell. Her red wool coat and jeans were meant for the city, but at least she wasn’t wearing some ridiculous high-heeled shoes or designer boots. The rubber-soled Wallabees would give some decent traction. The safest way would be to send her up first.

  “You ever do any rock climbing?”

  She went brows up. “Does the climbing wall at the gym back in college and grad school count?”

  She couldn’t be that far out of school. “Better than nothing.” He pulled out the para-cord and began to uncoil it. “I’m gonna fashion an emergency harness for you and belay you up the incline.”

  “You’re gonna trust my weight to that?”

  “It holds my weight, so you’ll be nothing. It won’t be comfortable, but it’ll do the job.” Quick and efficient, he had the knots tied by the time he finished speaking and stepped toward her with the loop.

  The woman took half a step back. “We’re gonna climb up there in the dark?”

  “Look, lady, I’m not gonna freeze my ass off out here. The way out is up.” It wasn’t full dark yet, but it would be soon, and he felt too damned exposed.

  She hesitated but evidently decided he was a better alternative to hypothermia. She gave a slow nod. Her hands—scraped from the airbag deployment probably—were white-knuckled around the strap of her bag as he stepped toward her again.

  Good job, Wilkes. Terrify the accident victim.

  Sucking in a breath, he made an effort to pull himself back from the edge of memories he’d been skating. Not Afghanistan. Not a trap. She was just a woman in the wrong place at the wrong time, and she was scared. Her very real fear helped dissolve some of his. He could be a slightly less grumpy bastard.

  “So, you saw a bear?” Maybe getting her to talk would help distract her from what he was doing.

  “Yeah. I came around the curve and it was right there, in the middle of the road. I fishtailed when I swerved and spun right out through the guardrail. I don’t know what the heck it was doing there. I thought they were supposed to hibernate in the winter.” Her teeth chattered, likely with shock as much as cold. He needed to get her to shelter and out of the elements.

  Harrison held up the loop again. “I’ve got to get up in your personal space to do this, okay?” When she nodded again, he reached around to loop the cord behind her waist. “I don’t think that’s necessarily the case with bears this far south. It was in the fifties just two weeks ago. Either way, you were damned lucky the trees were thick.”

  “Yeah.”

  Her accent was Southern, but not the twang of East Tennessee. He couldn’t quite place it. “I’m guessing you aren’t from around here.” Reaching between her legs, he pulled the cord up to meet the loops he held in his other hand.

  “There’s not a lot of snow where I’m from.”

  Harrison forgot what he’d asked because he suddenly became very aware that the body in front of him was female. She was so tiny and delicate, and she smelled, impossibly, of honeysuckle. The scent of it cut through whatever dark memories lingered, grounding him with an unexpected flash of heat.

  When was the last time he’d been this close to a woman?

  Struggling to bring himself back to the task at hand he tried to remember what he’d said. “There’s not normally this much snow here, either. Not like this.”

  “I certainly didn’t expect a blizzard in Tennessee.”

  “The weather people were calling it Stormageddon.”

  “Great.” The absolute lack of enthusiasm almost made him smile.

  He locked down the carabiner and adjusted the fit of the makeshift harness. It was too dark to see her well, but he had the feeling she was blushing as he tugged and arranged the lines around her excellent ass. He should not be noticing her ass.

  Clearing his throat, he straightened. “Okay, here’s how this is going to work.”

  By the time he’d explained it and had her repeat the procedure back to him to his satisfaction, it really was full dark. He didn’t like it, but there wasn’t much of an alternative.

  “Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.” She was freezing and probably still scared to death, but s
he didn’t balk again. “Belay on.”

  Harrison’s estimation of her went up a few notches. He braced his feet. “On belay. Take your time and be careful of your footing. If you slip, I’ll catch you.” That much he was capable of.

  She began to climb. It wasn’t a terrible incline. In the daylight, on a normal day, most novices in reasonable shape could probably take it without a rope. But in the dark, in the snow, with an accident victim suffering from exposure, shock, and unknown injuries… The harness would hold. He had faith in that. But a slip and fall would bang her up even more than the wreck already had, and under the circumstances, he couldn’t get her up to the top fast or easily by himself. With every inch higher, he adjusted his grip, cranking down on the lines, ready for the sudden jerk of her full weight.

  But it didn’t come.

  She was careful, testing each foot placement before pushing up and giving it her weight. There were a handful of saplings growing along the steep grade, and she made excellent use of them as she hauled herself up the slope, muttering the whole way. The wind and snow muffled her words, but he heard something that sounded like “Suck it up, Buttercup. Annika would say this is a cake calk. She’d be doing it without ropes, just like Tom Cruise.”

  As she got higher, he lost the thread of her one-sided conversation. The last ten feet was the steepest part of the climb. If there'd been any small trees there to start, her SUV had wiped them out. She paused where she was, angling her head back, then pressing it against one forearm.

  “Doing all right?”

  “Fine. Just making deals with myself that I’ll get to the gym more often in the future.” She twisted to look down at him as she spoke and he saw the moment she recognized her mistake.

  The line jolted as she hastily flattened herself against the rock face.

  “You okay?”

  After a moment’s hesitation she called back, “It’s a really long way down.”

  “Are you dizzy?”

  “Little bit.”

  That could be vertigo or she might’ve hit her head in the crash. Either way, he needed to speed this process up. If she lost consciousness, they’d be up shit creek. Bad as the weather was getting, there’d be no going back to town tonight. Whatever first aid she required would be on him. The weight of that responsibility had his already tense muscles coiling tighter. He didn’t want anybody relying on him for anything, least of all this woman.

  “Just breathe for a minute.” Harrison wasn’t entirely sure which of them he was talking to.

  He was running alternate scenarios in his head when she started climbing again, quicker this time, as if she needed to get to the top before she completely lost her nerve. Speed usually translated to carelessness. In his world, that meant people ended up hurt or dead. He didn’t need another body on his conscience.

  Don’t slip. Don’t slip. Don’t slip.

  He stayed silent, lest he distract her from what she was doing. When she bellied over the top edge of the road and disappeared from view, he almost cheered. The relief that she’d made it, that there were no further injuries, almost buckled his knees.

  “Good job. Now unhook yourself from the line and toss your end of the rope down. We’ll haul up your bags.”

  The rope trembled as she detached herself. “Hey, you have a winch on the front of your Jeep.”

  “I don’t want to take the time to walk you through how to use it in this weather. Just toss the rope down.”

  One minute passed. Then two. No rope.

  “Problem?”

  No answer. Shit. Had she passed out?

  He was just about to haul himself to the top, her luggage be damned, when he heard the faint whine of an electric motor. Damn woman didn’t listen. She’d probably break something or burn out the motor…

  Her head appeared over the side, dark hair whipping in the wind. “The winch will be faster.”

  The winch cable almost smacked him in the face when she tossed it over.

  Well, I’ll be damned.

  Maybe she wasn’t so much a damsel in distress as he’d first thought. She was capable and, despite her injuries, perfectly able to get her feet under her and turn around to help him. Somehow that was a relief, too. She might’ve been able to rescue herself once she’d gotten up the nerve. Which meant she didn’t really need him at all. She’d just needed a helping hand.

  It was a good reminder from the universe that it wasn’t actually his job to save everyone anymore.

  Thank God.

  Chapter 4

  By the time they reached his cabin almost an hour later, Ivy was so cold, she was beyond hurting with it. For the moment, that was a good thing. The numbness probably masked some pain from the wreck itself. What dexterity she’d had in her hands during the climb was gone as her fingers turned into blocks of uncooperative ice. It took her three tries to get the passenger door open, and by the time she did, her rescuer was already on the porch unlocking the place. She stepped out of the Jeep and nearly went down as a wave of dizziness swept over her.

  Shock. She was in shock.

  Not really a surprise but unfortunate. Given she had, improbably, been rescued by a man with a certain set of skills, she wished she could keep her wits about her. Not only because he was a stranger but because it seemed as if God had hand-delivered the perfect subject for observational research on her taciturn, uncooperative hero. This guy might look like a lumberjack, but she’d bet her next advance check he was former military and knew how to use that Glock she’d noticed on his hip. She hadn’t decided whether she needed to worry about that or not. It was taking a lot of energy to stay awake.

  Really, she should try to take notes about the subjective experience. It would make for great detail to add into her books…

  Shaking off the haze, Ivy trudged up the steps.

  Michael—she’d think of him as Michael until he gave her his actual name—entered the cabin like a man on a mission, moving fast. She half-expected him to yell, “Clear!” He went straight to the thermostat, presumably cranking it up.

  The interior of the cabin was warmer than the outside but still plenty cold. It was nice to be out of the wind. She could see the whole of it from the front door. A main living area with vaulted ceilings bled into a corner kitchen. A steep, narrow staircase led up to what looked like a loft sleeping space. The area below that was walled off, probably for a bathroom.

  “I’m gonna get a fire going. You think you can make coffee?”

  “Sure.” Glad to have a task to keep herself moving, Ivy made her way over to the kitchen as he headed back outside. Probably she should take off her coat. It was soaked through from snow and the thin wool was more fashionable than functional, but the effort of shrugging it off felt like too much. Coffee first. Flexing her numb fingers, she began opening cabinet doors, looking for coffee supplies. She found an unopened can of Maxwell House and reached for it.

  Something in the cabinet chittered and moved.

  Ivy screamed, stumbling back and landing hard on her ass.

  Before she could draw breath to scream again, there was a big, badass, armed lumberjack between her and whatever was hiding in the cabinet. Where the hell had he come from? He looked fierce and deadly and a little bit terrifying with that wickedly sharp combat knife in his hand. And something in his gaze told her he wasn’t entirely here. Whatever he was seeing wasn’t the critter that had startled her.

  His breath hissed in and out. Sweat beaded his temple. For long moments, he held poised on the balls of his feet, ready for action. Ivy didn’t dare move or speak.

  A box of something fell out of the cabinet and a furry paw wrapped around the edge of the shelf.

  Michael blinked, shaking his head as if to clear it, then sheathed the knife. “Looks like we’ve got a raccoon.” Stripping off his coat, he slowly approached the cabinet, fabric outstretched.

  Ivy crab-walked back around the edge of the counter, not wanting to be anywhere near that thing if it got loose. Weren’t ra
ccoons carriers of rabies?

  Her concern, as it turned out, was unwarranted. Michael captured their intruder without much fanfare, carting the wriggling bundle of his coat outside. With the threat neutralized, Ivy tried to get to her feet, but her legs wouldn’t cooperate and her body had somehow tripled in weight. Really, the floor wasn’t so bad. Maybe if she had a nap…

  Someone swore.

  Abruptly, Ivy found herself scooped up in a pair of strong arms. She wished she were more alert to appreciate it, but she was so tired. At least she wasn’t shivering anymore. He deposited her on a sofa and, with surprising gentleness, eased off her coat.

  She sighed. “Thanks, Michael.”

  His hands paused. “It’s Harrison.”

  Harrison. Well that was fitting. Her personal hero shared a name with the actor who played her favorite movie hero. That should make for good dreams.

  “I should’ve asked before. What’s your name?”

  “Ivy.”

  “Well, Ivy, we have to get you out of these wet clothes. You’re still losing body heat.”

  “Haven’t even bought me dinner first.” Even she could hear the slur of her words. That was probably a bad sign.

  She thought she saw that faint curve of his mouth again in that God-awful beard.

  With the same efficiency he’d shown at everything else, Harrison stripped off her jeans, then her sweater, leaving her in nothing but her plain cotton underwear, one of her comfy bras, and a tank top. Dimly, she regretted it wasn’t satin and lace. At least it wasn’t the holey underwear or granny panties. There was nothing salacious in his touch, not even anything appreciative in his gaze. He was all business. When had that started to seem like a pity?

  Dragging a blanket off the back of the sofa, he wrapped her in it like a burrito. “Sit tight. I’m going to get the fire going.”

  Because keeping her eyes open seemed like a lot of work, she let them drift shut. What seemed like a moment later, he was tugging at the blanket.