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“Okay, I’m going to help you get up, but we need to be quiet.” The man’s voice was deep. “They’ll come running back if they hear us. You understand?”
Grace nodded, her throat tight with tangled emotions. She wanted to be alone, to trust no one, especially a stranger. But his actions spoke louder than words, and he proved true to his promise. He released her and for an instant, she missed the soft pulse of his breath against her nape. With gentle hands, he lifted her to her feet, brushing away the leaves and mud with care.
As she straightened, she got a good look at him.
Towering over six rugged feet, he possessed an undeniable presence that demanded attention. His face wasn’t conventionally handsome like Richard’s. Instead, it carried the weathered lines of experience, of a life immersed in the raw elements of nature. Stormy gray eyes, sharp with concern, met hers above a jaw that bore the scruff of a life lived unencumbered by the sharp side of a razor blade. His bearing resonated with a primal, animalistic masculinity, a lone wolf untamed by societal norms and an air of wilderness clung to him.
But his touch was considerate. As he gently cupped her wrist, the pain almost dulled in the warmth of human contact. “You’re hurt?”
Prickles sparked on her bare skin in the gap between her glove and sleeve. Cold or the comfort of care after so long running on her own, she wasn’t sure.
“My hand got caught under me. I think it’s okay…” She pulled off her yellow mittens, tried to rotate her wrist. “Woah…” She braced her arm against her chest, swallowing against the grayness that burst against the fringes of her vision. “Still… bit sore.”
He glanced around, his gaze skimming over the shadowy trees looming around them. “Let’s get you out of here.”
A hand slid against the small of her back. The pressure was gentle but insistent, urging her to move.
Grace resisted, her mind a whirlwind of uncertainty. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice inaudible to her own ears. “I can take it from here.”
His breath puffed out in regular beats. He cocked one eyebrow, his gaze steady on hers. “You don’t have a compass or a map. You know which way to go?”
Grace lifted her chin, trying to push aside the doubts clawing at her mind. She glanced up at the sky. “Sure.” She squinted. “There’s the north star, so I should head this way.” She took a few hesitant steps forward, her resolve wavering.
“And where are you going?”
“Um… Aurora Cove.” The seeping cold was making her teeth chatter, her thoughts sluggish. Was it possible for your eyeballs to freeze solid?
“Aurora Cove is the other way.” He took several long steps in the opposite direction. His gaze locked onto hers, a silent challenge in his eyes. “And the men after you?”
“They work for my ex-boyfriend.” Nausea rolled through her and her knees weakened. This man was different. He was a stranger, and yet he had helped conceal her from Alex. Was that enough reason to trust him?
“Your ex hired thugs to chase after you?” He scratched his jaw then exhaled slowly, his breath forming a frosty cloud. He motioned for her to follow him. “Come on,” he said, his voice soft but firm.
Grace hesitated, torn between the safety she’d felt in his arms and the instinctive urge to flee. He was a stranger, but if he intended to harm her, he could have done it already, couldn’t he?
Branches closed behind him with a soft swoosh of dislodged snow, and he was gone.
She was alone, the moon and stars her only companions in the darkness, the skeletons of spiky trees crowding her from all sides, the earthy scent of pine filling her nostrils.
Mister Compass brain had vanished into the depths of the forest.
Damn it. Grace stumbled after him. “Wait?—”
7
Caleb took a circuitous route back to his truck. The men had moved off to the south of the forest, creating what they hoped was a loop to track their prey. For now, they were out of earshot, but that wouldn’t be forever. The sooner he was back in his truck and out of here, the better.
The woman panted behind him, her steps lighter than his and noisier, but the men were far enough away it wasn’t a risk.
“Do you have a name?” He threw his question over his shoulder. When he’d held her in his arms, fear had powered through her muscles. He’d felt it under his touch like electricity. She wasn’t just running scared. She was fucking terrified. Better to let her follow than try to tell her where to go.
A sigh. “Grace.”
Grace. His grandmother’s name. What were the chances? He squinted up at the stars and wondered if Gramma was watching him.
“I’m Caleb.” He slowed. “This is my truck.” He turned to face her. Six feet back from him, she waited with a wary expression, her face pinched with cold, her cheeks tinged gray.
He jerked a thumb toward the cab. “And this is Dolly.”
