Snowbound with the Santas (Forbidden Fantasies)

6. Nick

6

NICK

T he mound on the bed doesn’t move.

I keep my distance.

There’s no telling what kind of person we rescued from the site of the crash. Is she a damsel in distress or a murdering hitchhiker? In the heat of the moment when we stumbled upon the crashed jeep, there’d been no thoughts of anything other than rescuing the driver and getting her somewhere safe and warm before hypothermia could set in.

Now that she’s woken up, my next concern is how badly hurt she is. There was only so much I could do when assessing her physical injuries. I need to talk to her in order to determine anything internal that could be causing an issue, and all of that rests on her being sane and stable enough to answer a couple of questions.

Archer’s already made his thoughts clear on the situation, but until the snow from the storm shifts, there’s nothing we can do but keep her here. I desperately hope we haven’t scooped up some kind of psychopath, but given how she was dressed and the fact that she was even out driving in a storm like that doesn’t give me much hope.

I’ll try not to judge.

Nothing good ever leads someone this deep into the mountain.

The covers on the bed rapidly rise and fall, and given the noises I heard, she’s definitely awake. And likely scared.

“Ma’am?” I try again, hoping to coax her into talking to me. “I heard you moving around. I know you’re awake.”

Suddenly, the mound on the bed surges upward and the woman bolts upright. Her black hair flies around her face, draping over one shoulder, and she points at me with her phone. Crystal blue eyes narrow to dangerous slits, and she glares at me.

“Who the fuck are you?” she demands. “Where the fuck am I? You have three seconds to tell me what the hell is happening here before I hit the call button and bring all the emergency services here!”

Judging by her accent, she’s American, which means she’s not native to these mountains. It’s even more lucky that we found her when we did.

I raise both hands, palms facing outward. “If you could do that, I’m sure you already would have. And then I would have been amazed that you got reception this deep into the mountains.”

Despite my light tone and weak attempt at humor, it only seems to alarm the woman more, judging by how her eyebrows raise, so I immediately switch tactics.

“My name is Nick. Nick Moore. I’m a wellness retreat operator, and you’re balls deep in the Austrian mountains at my friend’s cabin. His name is Archer. Archer Davis. He’s the one you could probably hear chopping wood outside.”

The woman doesn’t move, and the aura of fear flowing from her only thickens with each passing second. No wonder. I’m acutely aware of how terrifying this must be for her to wake up in a cabin with strange men in the middle of nowhere. There’s nothing I can say that will put her at ease. I can only show her we mean no harm.

“My friends and I were out on a hike last night when the storm swept in with no warning. We got a bit turned around and stumbled upon your crashed Jeep. Seeing the door open, we knew someone must have tried to wander through the snow, and it was a stroke of luck that we found you down the incline. You were unconscious and injured, and with the severity of the storm, we only had one choice. So we brought you back here where we knew we could take care of you and treat you. I admit, at first, we thought you were dead.”

It wouldn’t be the first time we’d stumbled upon a dead tourist in the mountains who'd ventured out by themselves and taken a wrong turn. The mountains are unforgiving.

Her hand brandishing the phone begins to waver and the sharpness of her gaze softens a fraction.

“You’ve been unconscious for two days. We had to remove your dress, I’m sorry, but I was as respectful as I could be.”

The woman gasps and her other hand clutches at the covers, drawing them close to her body.

“You said friends,” she says and her voice quavers. “Who else?”

“The only other person here is my other friend, Frankie Green. He’s the one who found your phone and purse in the Jeep. I hope the vehicle had no sentimental value to you because I’m pretty sure you won’t be seeing it again until the summer.”

“No,” she replies, her gaze falling away from mine. “It’s not even mine.”

My heart skips a sharp beat. “Was there someone else in the car?”

“No, no. It was just me. I was alone.”

A lone woman in the mountains wearing a dress like that? It’s painfully obvious that she was running from something since there’d been nothing about her that night to suggest she’d been drinking.

“Where am I?” she asks sharply, her glittering eyes snapping back to me. “Where’s the ski lodge?”

“You’re pretty far north in the mountains. I don’t know what caused you to drive this deep at that time of night during a snowstorm, but you left the ski lodge miles down the mountain. You’re in no man’s land now.”

Her face pales drastically, and I immediately curse myself for using such a phrase. My goal is to not scare her and I’m doing a terrible job.

“I’m sorry. I simply mean that you left civilization behind. There’s nothing up here but wilderness.”

“Why didn’t you take me back to the lodge?”

That is a reasonable question. I slowly lower my hands.

“For one, I didn’t know the state of any internal injuries you might have sustained. And the lodge is miles down the mountain. The storm you got lost in has effectively cut us all off from everything. I’m sorry. I know how terrifying that must sound, but I assure you, we’re not going to hurt?—”

Suddenly, a crimson stain on the newly moved sheets catches my eye.

Blood .

Surging forward, I grab the foot of the covers and wrench them swiftly off the bed.

“Hey!” the woman yells. “What the fuck are you doing?”

The bandage on her right thigh is rapidly turning red as I stand there. She must have ripped open her stitches when she was moving around. Judging by the thumps I heard, she’s likely unsteady on her feet.

Ignoring her sharp bark of protest, I scoop the woman up into my arms. She’s just as light as she was that night, and she settles easily into the bridal carry, even though she twists in my arms and drives her elbow into my shoulder.

“What the fuck!” she screeches. “Put me down! Put me down right now!”

“No,” I snap back as tightly as I dare. “Just hold on.”

I swiftly carry her out of the room and down the narrow hallway toward the kitchen. The moment we reach the large wooden table, I set her down on it and immediately catch her wrist when she makes a dash to escape.

“ Stop! You’ve ripped open your stitches and if I don’t fix it, you’ll bleed out all over the snow. If you plan to run away in this condition, you won’t last five minutes.”

“Are you saying I need to run away?” she snaps, her cheeks flaring crimson as she wrenches her wrist out of my grip.

“You’re free to do what you want,” I reply. “Just not until I’ve fixed this.”

I can’t pinpoint exactly what makes her stay put, but she doesn’t try to slide off the table again. I leave her there and dig around under the copper sink for the medical kit stashed there. Back at the table, I grasp her thigh and push her shirt high up to her hip.

She immediately slaps my hand away.

“I’m sorry, but I need access to your entire leg.”

She relents quickly and pulls her shirt up her legs with her own hands, then tightens the fabric around her hips to cover herself. I get to work quickly, using scissors to cut away the blood-soaked bandages.

As soon as the torn wound comes into view, her entire demeanor shifts.

“Oh, God,” she groans hoarsely.

I send her a glance, and she’s lifted her head to the ceiling, averting her gaze while a grayness seeps across her skin.

“Not a fan of blood?” I ask, trying to distract her as I quickly snip away the last few untorn stitches.

“Not when it’s coming from a place it shouldn’t be,” she replies weakly.

I work as quickly as I can, mopping up the blood as it trickles down her leg and soaks into the wood below. That doesn’t bother me. It’s not the first time someone’s bled on this table and it won’t be the last.

“You haven’t told me your name,” I say as I thread the needle and apply antiseptic.

She hisses sharply and one hand shoots out to grab at my arm. She clutches tightly and her fingernails cut into the flesh of my bare forearm, but I don’t mind. It’s nothing compared to her pain.

“Rayne,” she gasps as I begin stitching. “Rayne McCullough.”

“Nice to meet you, Rayne.”

“Mmhmm.”

“What do you do for work?” Simple questions to try and keep her mind off the pain as I swiftly stitch up the ragged wound across her thigh. The cause is unknown, but given how we found her, I suspect a sharp rock caught her leg on her way down the incline.

“I’m a teacher.”

“High school?”

“Second grade.”

“For how long?”

“A couple of years—ahh!”

“Sorry.” The last stitch slides into place. I knot the thread and set the instruments aside. Another pass of the antiseptic, and it’s on to the bandages.

“Holy shit,” Rayne groans. “Ow.”

“Do you have pain anywhere else?”

“My head.”

“Aside from that?”

“Uh…” Rayne finally tilts her head back down, then shakes it. “No… nothing I can feel right now.”

“That’s good. I couldn’t assess much in terms of internal injuries, but if you’re not in pain at this stage, then I think it’s safe to presume you’re all good.”

Her wound vanishes beneath a fresh, crisp white bandage, and I secure it with tape. Only when I’m finished does she retract her hand from my arm. A row of half-crescent moons follows the line of my muscle, and I bite back a smile.

Maybe she’s not so scared now.

“How did you learn how to do that?” Rayne pulls the edge of her shirt back down, covering the bandage while I clean up the tools I used and return the medical kit to underneath the sink.

“Practice. Patching myself up and my friends. Injuries are common out here, and even at my job, you’d be surprised how stupid people can be. A wellness retreat might be for relaxing, but people get dumb around hot stones and wire.”

“Makes sense,” she agrees, then she carefully draws her legs up to her body.

I keep my distance, not wanting to impose. I know how scary this can be, and not just because of the entire situation. Even our size difference is enough to be scary. I’m a tall man with thick muscles, and Rayne is short. Petite.

Being intimidating is tough to avoid.

Suddenly, an idea strikes in my mind and I flash her the warmest smile I can manage.

“Stay here. Please?”

Rayne rolls her eyes. “You said we’re in the middle of nowhere. Where would I go?”

“Well, you also drove out in a snowstorm, so maybe location decisions aren’t your best.”

“Fuck you.” Rayne snorts, and there’s a flicker of amusement in her gorgeous eyes. “I won’t go anywhere.”

I have no choice but to trust her as I leave her in the kitchen, perched on the table, and head up to my room. After a few minutes of searching, I return to her with an oversized puffer jacket and my passport. To my relief, she’s exactly where I left her.

“Here, put this on. This cabin is well built, but the warmth is deceptive.”

She takes the coat with one hand and groans slightly. “It’s heavy.”

“Thick to keep you warm. And this…” I hand her my passport.

Rayne takes it slowly and her brow pinches together. “What’s this for?” Opening it, she flicks through the pages and scoffs faintly. “You’re from California?”

“Yup. It’s… proof, I suppose. That I’m telling you the truth of who I am.”

She lifts her head and sends me a wry look. “Even serial killers have passports.”

“That’s… true.” I chuckle. “There’s not much I can say to persuade you that you are safe here, but I promise you are.”

She closes my passport and hands it back. “I suppose not waking up chained to the bed is working in your favor.”

“See?” I smile brightly at her. “Already earning some brownie points. Now, put that coat on. You’re going to need it.”

I help her down from the table and offer my arm to lean on since her right leg appears to be weak. She slides into the coat, which almost dwarfs her. For a short trip outside, it will do, but I’ll have to dig out something much more appropriate.

“Take these.” By the white wooden door that leads outside, I pick up a pair of thick boots. “They’ll help.”

Rayne steps into them and then lifts her attention to me. For a moment, I’m struck by her beauty. Her eyes are incredible, sparkling like icicles in the early morning sun, and her skin is slowly losing its pale, ashy color.

“Where are we going?”

“You should meet the others.”

Offering her my elbow, I lead her outside to a stunning view of our cabin nestled right between two towering mountain peaks.

Her audible gasp sends a thrill down my spine.

“Welcome to paradise.”