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He made a beeline to the corner of the room furthest from the wood stove, where stacks of plastic storage bins lined up against the wall. He plunked down a large, lumpy bundle wrapped in a tarp and shoved it into a space between the bins.
“I’m fine,” she protested, then added, “Now, I mean.” But she lowered herself to the sofa and sat.
“Oh, yeah?” he growled. “You nearly froze to death out there, and that bear trap really did a number on your leg.”
Before she could respond, he went to the wood stove and selected a couple of pieces of firewood from a large cardboard box placed next to the laundry rack. He opened the stove and shoved the wood in with barely restrained violence.
Why is he so mad? Holly wondered.
“Who are you? And how did I get here?” she demanded, determined not to reveal how nervous he made her. She couldn’t help clutching the blanket around herself with her free hand.
Though if her suspicions proved correct, he’d already seen everything she had to offer.
He straightened up and turned to face her, dark brows lowered, and held her gaze challengingly.
Don’t act like prey, a voice in her head advised. Holly swallowed hard and met his gaze squarely.
He had striking amber-brown eyes, thickly fringed with lashes she could only envy.
A long white scar ran from the bottom of his left eye, bisecting his cheek before ending at the corner of his mouth. It distorted his handsome features and pulled his lips into a permanent sneer.
Holly wondered what had happened to him.
And why any doctor worth their salt would have let the injury scar so badly.
Her dad was a plastic surgeon specializing in reconstructive work. He would have flipped his shit at the sight… then set about fixing the damage until it was no longer noticeable.
Finally, the man said, “I’m Isaac Peters. Call me ‘Ice.’ Everyone does.”
“Nice to meet you, Ice. I’m Holly Garland.”
“Holly, huh?” His mouth twitched, as if he didn’t believe her. She got that reaction a lot. As a kid, she used to curse her parents for giving her such a cutesy name.
He continued, “I found you in some bushes, frozen half to death and with a fucking bear trap around your leg. You’re lucky you didn’t lose your foot.”
She nodded. “Yeah, lucky,” she repeated. “And really stupid, too,” she added, spurred by the sting of humiliation. “I got so excited by finding something I dropped my pack with all of my gear, and raced over to investigate.”
He snorted. “Rookie mistake.”
She fought the temptation to ask him whether he’d seen any signs of a big cat in the area while he was rescuing her.
No need to tell Tall, Dark, and Grumpy about my hallucinations, she told herself.
After all, what were the chances that no one—not the area’s Indigenous people, early settlers, or any hikers, hunters, trappers, game wardens, or wildlife biologists—except for her had spotted a huge Ice Age predator roaming a popular national park or the adjoining Salmon-Challis National Forest?
Ice was still talking. “—anyhow, my place was closer than the ranger station or the lodge, so I decided to bring you here and warm you up.”
“Thank you,” she said with sincere gratitude. “I owe you my life. After the first couple of hours, I thought I was a goner for sure.”
To her surprise, his ears went red. “Nah,” he mumbled, his scowl deepening. “Everyone looks out for each other out here. That’s all.”
“I’m still grateful, though,” Holly said.
He turned from the fire and moved closer. “Give me your hands,” he ordered, looming over her.
She tightened her hold on the blanket. “Why?”
Ice’s glare communicated he thought she was an idiot. “Frostbite.”
