Chapter 2

2

brOOKE

I 'm accustomed to being immersed in the adventures of the books I read for work. Well, work and enjoyment, if I'm being honest. This particular real-life adventure, though? Very mixed reaction so far.

Snuggled in Jonah's coat and a thick blanket, I keep sneaking glances at the profile of the incredible man who just saved me.

He's striking. Powerful features, and deep dull green eyes that somehow hint at years of experience. His rugged jawline, wide shoulders, and sturdy frame make him look every inch the mountain man. He's hard as stone, and his chiseled features make me think of Greek statues.

Plus, in those wet jeans, I got a quick but fabulous glimpse of his tight ass.

He's also pretty quiet. Grumpy, even. I can tell he isn't used to being chatty. But he listens well. Listens to me .

Even when I was stuck in the rushing water, when the only options were to release me and hope that I could swim for it or pull me up over the rock, he let me make the choice. I mean, yes, he took control of the situation and was telling me what to do by pointing out the obvious, but he let the decision be mine.

I could feel how cautious he was being, and that every time I winced, it seemed to hurt him as well. I've never had anyone treat me with such care. Going to a stranger's home might not normally be the smartest idea, but letting Jonah help me feels like the right decision in this case.

Even though the left side of my ribs really hurt, and the chill feels like it's completely saturated my bones.

"Warm enough?" Jonah's voice is rich, and a bit scratchy. As rugged as the rest of him.

"Pretty good, thanks."

He sneaks a sideways glance at me, then grunts slightly before his foot presses down on the accelerator harder. "We'll have you inside in just a minute."

I gasp and clutch my side as we zoom up a long driveway toward a gorgeous house, kind of an upscale modern cabin, you could call it.

Jonah parks right in front of the large wraparound porch, then helps me out, carrying me inside and heading straight for the bathroom.

"Do you feel like you're steady enough for a shower? I'm worried about you getting in and out of the tub on your own."

As my fingertips brush the back of his neck, I wonder whether I really want to be alone. There's something about this strong, capable man that makes me want to touch him as much as possible. Or more to the point, have him touch me.

"I'm good to stand, thank you. You're right, bending up and down is probably a bad idea."

He sets me down by the door frame, and I hang onto it as he reaches down and takes off my shoes. Then he removes the blanket from my shoulders and helps me out of his jacket. "Don't move. I have an idea."

He returns in a moment with some cozy clothing, a fluffy towel, and a plastic chair. After handing me the clothes and towel he sets the chair in the large glass shower stall.

It feels like he's trying not to look at me. When he finally makes eye contact, his smile is forced. "Please leave the door unlocked, so you can holler if you need help. Don't use searing hot water, just comfortably warm until you feel somewhat normal. I'm going to make you some tea and fix us dinner." His brow furrows. "And then once you're warm, I need to examine that bruised spot."

"Okay. Thank you."

I shut the door and carefully shrug off my cold, wet clothing. Is it weird that he'd bring a stranger into his home? As I wait for the water to warm up, I realize I'm looking around the bathroom for signs of anyone else living here – specifically, a woman. Jonah wasn't wearing a wedding ring, but that doesn't mean he might not have a girlfriend.

But every product seems skewed toward a male demographic. Oat and cedar soap. A man's razor. Lemon rosemary shampoo.

I step carefully into the shower and nearly moan, the warmth is so nice. After about a minute my muscles unclench, and my teeth finally stop their intermittent chattering. I run the soap over me for a moment, then sit down, enjoying the way the warm spray is pummeling my back.

I choke back tears as it hits me all at once. I could have died. If I hadn't managed to kick my feet like a demon and scramble over to that rock… There was no way I would've been able to swim hard enough to make it to those logs. I would have been swept over the rapids like a crumpled newspaper blowing down the street.

Admittedly, it feels like a few of my fingertips are shredded, and my ribs are really starting to ache. But that's a small price to pay for not having my head bashed in and drowning.

After indulging in the blissful warmth for another few minutes, I get dressed, dry my hair, and shuffle out to the living room. Now that I can look at it properly, I have to admit that Jonah's house is absolutely gorgeous and looks utterly comfortable. Everything is done in earth tones and warm wood, and my eyes land on a gigantic squashy, navy couch.

"Yep. Right here." Jonah pats the couch invitingly, and when I sit he wraps one blanket around my shoulders and another around my feet. Then he hands me a large glass. "Mango orange smoothie," he explains. "It'll give you a shot of vitamin C and bring up your blood sugar quickly."

I take a sip, and grin up at him. "Tastes amazing. Is that ginger?"

"Yes. It increases circulation."

He returns to the kitchen as I giggle to myself. "I really like that a doctor still uses natural medicine," I call to him.

He returns with a cup of tea that definitely smells medicinal. "It's all chemistry – whether it's a drug, a vitamin, or an organic compound." His sexy lips curl up in a cockeyed smirk. "Plus there's the whole psychological aspect to making a patient feel comfortable. Lowering stress lowers cortisol, which helps the body heal itself faster."

"So this is all just a trick?" I take another few gulps of my smoothie. "Well, it tastes amazing, so I'll run with it."

"I should mention," he says, a whisper of tension crossing his features, "I'm not precisely a doctor."

"Well, you seem to know what you're doing."

"Oh, I do. I promise you that." He sits down next to me at a polite distance. "I spent four years in Pre-med at university, but then I ended up in the army for several years as a medic overseas."

My eyes widen. "You didn't end up anywhere scary, did you?"

That adorable, crooked almost-smile again. "Not really. More like spots where the army was there to smooth things over after emergencies. I was a medic and patched up all kinds of minor injuries."

"So is that your job now?"

His head tilts back and forth. "Old Hemlock Valley can't afford a full-time doctor. But I don't need a day job. So, I have a small free clinic at City Hall that's open a few afternoons a week. And people know they can just show up here on my doorstep if there's an emergency. People drive down to West Stoneburg for doctors, specialists, and the hospital."

"A small town almost-doctor that works for nothing?" My grin feels unnaturally wide. "Plus you just go around randomly saving peoples' lives in the forest? You sound like a pretty good guy, Jonah."

His lips twist slightly, and I swear he might be almost blushing under that outdoorsy tan.

"Official examination time." He takes the glass from my hand, then inspects my palms and fingers. A first aid kit is under the coffee table, and he pulls it out to grab a few bandages. He disinfects and wraps the cuts on two of my fingers.

"Any dizziness, shortness of breath, joint pain…anything strange at all?"

I shake my head. "I mean, everything feels a bit tired and achy, but I assume that's from tumbling like an idiot into the river."

"Please. You're not an idiot."

"Okay, I was busy sketching the curves of the river and tripped over my own damn feet, is that better?" My heavy sigh makes him look up. "I do that a bit more than the average person."

"Luckily, you won't be moving off this couch for a good long while."

He stands up, pushing the coffee table out of the way. Then he pauses. "Brooke, I appreciate you trusting me to take care of you. Can you lie down and let me examine your ribs?"

I appreciate that he truly wants me to be comfortable. "Sure. Thank you."

I stretch out on my back, trying to stop myself from wincing as I lift my left arm. Jonah kneels beside me, and I can sense that he's reluctant to pull up the baggy sweatshirt he loaned me. So I latch my right fingertips around the bottom, pulling it up so it's still covering my breast enough to be somewhat decent.

He swallows hard and clears his throat. "Thank you." His warm hands are incredibly gentle as he pokes around my ribs with a feather-light touch. I only jump hard once.

"I'm so sorry, but I'm going to have to run my finger along that spot again to make sure there's no fracture. I will not judge you if you scream or slap me."

"All good. Go ahead." My eyes fall closed, and my breathing stops at the strange, aching pain, but I manage to say silent.

"All done," he says quickly. When I open my eyes, he's smiling. "You're brave. I like that. I hate to do this to you, but you need an ice pack for a while."

Why do I feel unbelievably proud of myself for impressing him? Why do I feel so touched at the way he pulls the shirt back down, then bundles me back in the blanket?

I've kind of sworn off men and relationships in general since I've never seen one where the woman wasn't held back and restrained. Where her life wasn't stomped over to better his.

But even though I've only known him for an hour, Jonah makes me feel treasured.

I'm already addicted to his touch. To the way he looks at me.

To the way I feel around this smart, strong, rugged stranger.