She took a deep cleansing breath and walked inside. Particles swirled in the late evening sunlight. As a child, she’d always rushed past her parents to get through the door. Nostalgia crept in along with a pang of sadness. After her parents’ divorce, the annual summer treks had ended. She’d come back with her dad to the cabin a few times, but it wasn’t the same. A joint custody agreement had given both of her parents equal legal guardianship over her. Army deployments, new duty stations overseas, and remarriage had taken him away. Before he’d died, her father had made an effort to reconnect. She’d spent last Christmas with him and his family in Denver. She’d gotten to know her stepmother and stepsister. They’d talked about spending a few weeks together in Mazree.
Rumbles of thunder and a darkening sky set her into motion. She returned to her car and got the rest of her things. Lightning broke up the gray shadows. A cool, pine-scented breeze seeped through her blouse and jeans. It pushed her into the cabin. She stowed her luggage in the master bedroom and put away the few items she’d brought in a cooler. As the rain pounded, she poured a glass of merlot and leaned on the marble-topped kitchen island.
Deep brown wood flooring spanned the living room and into the bedrooms. A stone fireplace complemented the blue sectional, matching side chairs, and a wood coffee table. Her father had recently updated the kitchen. He’d also added spa-like touches to the bathrooms and remodeled the deck. The Realtor had said all of the modern upgrades had increased the cabin’s value. The added footage of the loft made the property even more attractive. Lightning flashes lit up the loft. She noted the boxes. He’d dropped them off just weeks before he’d died. He’d joked about the cabin becoming his man cave. He’d planned to enjoy more leisure time there, painting the landscape. Her mother wanted no part in sorting through her ex-husband’s possessions. Grief still overwhelmed her stepmother to the point where she couldn’t. Whatever he’d left in the cabin had meant something to him. Throwing it away without taking a look seemed wrong.
Lauren peeked through the curtain covering the French doors. No stars were visible. Zigzagged lightning lit up the loose covering over the built-in grill. One side of the vinyl sheet flapped and fluttered wildly in the wind. Crap. So much for keeping dry. She found a rain poncho in her bag. After turning on the deck lights, she squinted against the blowing rain and ventured out. On the second try, she snagged the cover and tied it to the metal loops. On her way past the long wood table with benches, lightning illuminated the partially covered deck. A man clad in pants and boots lay on his side at the bottom of the steps. Instincts trumped caution. Lauren hurried down and knelt in the grass. A tattoo circled above where she grasped his arm to turn him over. Chilled skin cooled her fingers. On his back, his eyes remained closed. Blood dripped from his temple. Mud streaked his face.
Lauren put her ear to his chest. He had a heartbeat. “Hey.” She shook him. “Can you hear me?”
Rain fell harder. A crack of lightning hit in the woods. They had to get moving.
She leaned down to his ear. “Please get up. I can’t carry you.”
His low groan spurred her heart rate. He lifted his head, then his shoulders. His torso shook with the effort.
Lauren shifted partially behind him. “That’s it.”
The stranger towered over her as he swayed. Not only tall, he outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds. If he fell, he’d easily take her down, too.
She caught him around the waist. “Whoa. Hold on. Take it slow. Put your arm around me, but grab the railing.” He followed her directions and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. His musky, masculine scent mixed appealingly with the clean fragrance of earth and rain.
They made it up the stairs and across the deck. Finally, they stumbled inside the cabin.
He sagged heavily.
As they fell near the coffee table, both of his arms tightened around her. He shifted, taking the brunt of the fall. They hit the wood floor with a solid thunk.
He blinked woozily and clumsily caressed her back. “Are you okay?”
A pleasurable shiver of déjà vu waved down her spine. Soothing, familiar, he made the perfect pillow. Wait. What was she doing? He needed her help. “I’m fine.” She slipped from under his arm. “Can you make it to the sofa?”
He lifted up and slumped back down. “I just need to lie here a minute.”
Lauren whipped off her poncho and tossed it aside. “I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?”
“It’s okay.” She patted his shoulder. The tattoo. Someone she knew had that same design, but who? “I’m just going to see if I can call for help.”
“No.” His hand shot up and grabbed her wrist. “Don’t call anyone.” The hint of desperation in his hazel eyes softened the command. “Please. I just need you.”
Instead of fear, trust and protectiveness came to life. No. This was crazy, and why didn’t he want medical help? The urge to comply outweighed her reservations. “Okay. Let me get blankets. You’re shivering.”