Page 4 of Craved By the Mountain Man

No one needs to rescue me.

I have spent most of my life making sure I never need rescuing.

The fact that I am currently driving toward my brother’s best friend’s empty cabin because criminals are threatening me feels irrelevant and frankly judgmental.

Wildwood appears through the rain in scattered lights.

A grocery store. A bakery. A little coffee shop with LATTE DA! painted across the window, because someone in this town committed a pun and no one stopped them.

I almost smile.

Then a dark SUV turns onto the road behind me.

My stomach drops.

I watch it in the mirror as it stays there through one intersection, then another. My fingers go cold around the steering wheel.

“Okay.”

I turn right at the next street.

The SUV continues straight.

Air rushes out of me, followed by a laugh that comes out shakier than I would like.

“Very brave, Hannah. Terrified of local accountants now.”

I drive faster anyway.

By the time I find the turnoff toward Gavin’s property, the town lights are gone and the darkness outside my headlights feels almost solid.

The road narrows, then narrows again, which feels unnecessary.

My tires crunch over gravel and wet pine needles as I climb. The last bar of cell service disappears from my phone.

Good.

No signal means nobody can track me through it.

My relief lasts approximately two seconds before the other side of that equation occurs to me.

No signal also means I cannot call anyone if an axe murderer lives in the woods.

Less good.

The cabin finally appears between the trees.

My headlights sweep over dark logs, a broad porch, and a steep roof shining with rain before I pull beside the house and kill the engine.

Darkness closes in at once.

Rain ticks against the roof, and my heart pounds hard enough to make the silence feel crowded.

“You made it.”

My voice cracks.

I close my eyes for a second and press my forehead against the steering wheel.