2 - Melissa

2

Melissa

Okay, so he wasn’t the biggest man I had ever seen. But he was over six feet tall, bearded, with broad shoulders and biceps that fucking bulged when he raised his ax. That probably should have been the first thing I mentioned: he was holding an ax. The kind that chop people up into pieces. And I was a small woman without any sort of protection.

Mom was right: I should have bought a gun.

The stranger’s intense eyes scanned the section of the path, taking in the scene in a few heartbeats. Then his gaze settled on me.

“I heard a scream,” he said in a deep, commanding voice.

“I’m fine!” I blurted out.

He blinked passively. “Then why did you scream?”

“I didn’t scream.”

“You’re a bad liar.”

“Oh fuck off,” I blurted out before realizing I shouldn’t poke the ax-wielding bear. “Everything is fine.”

He rested his ax against his shoulder. “Is it your ankle?”

“I said I’m fine.”

“Your ankle is already the size of a softball, which is a bad sign if you only hurt it a few minutes ago.”

“How do you know when I hurt my ankle?”

“Because,” he said bluntly, “you screamed.”

“I didn’t scream!”

“Sure you didn’t.”

He never smiled. This wasn’t friendly banter. And I was still extremely aware that I was alone on the top of a mountain trail, and hadn’t seen any other humans for the past two days.

The strange man stared at me for a few more seconds. I stared right back, hoping that I projected confidence rather than panty-wetting fear.

“Tell you what,” he finally said. “I’ll fuck off if you can walk five feet. From here to that tree.”

“It sounds like you’re refusing to leave me alone,” I said slowly. “This is why women would rather come across a bear in the woods than a man.”

He shrugged casually. “Have it your way. But if that ankle is as bad as I suspect, you’re in trouble.”

His eyes bore into me, emphasizing the point. Then he started walking down the trail in the direction I was originally going, leaving me alone.

All alone.

“Wait!”

He stopped, but didn’t turn around.

“I rolled my ankle. I might have cried out in pain, but I didn’t scream.”

He turned around and gestured at my Clif Bar with the ax. “So you decided to stop for a snack rather than treat your injury?”

“I was going to take a pain pill!” I rattled the bottle at him. “But I need some food in my stomach first.”

“Ibuprofen will only mask the injury. You might make it worse.”

“Thanks, doctor lumberjack.”

“You don’t like accepting people’s help, do you?”

“Not from strangers walking around with axes.”

His scowl deepened. “You shouldn’t judge people based on their appearances.”

“Why not? For all I know, you’re a serial killer who’s going to chop me into six pieces.”

The bearded woodsman blinked. “Six pieces?”

“Both arms, both legs, head, and torso.”

“You’ve given this a lot of thought.”

“I have an active imagination.” I left the rest unsaid: when confronted with dangerous-looking men .

“I’m up here clearing the trails,” he explained with just a smidge of annoyance. “This is the kind of place where you’d expect to see axes. Now, if you see someone walking around downtown Denver with an ax, then you should be worried.”

“It’s not just the ax,” I said, feeling guilty for lashing out. “I don’t have a good track record of trusting men lately.” After a few heartbeats, I added, “Sorry.”

“Thanks,” he replied, hefting the ax across his chest. “I’m going to kill you now.”

I instinctively recoiled, pushing off with my ankle before the pain reminded me I couldn’t go anywhere. For the first time since he appeared, the stranger’s lips curled in a smile. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist.”

“Oh you’re so funny.”

“I’m Jack.”

I made myself stop glaring and replied, “Melissa.”

Jack rested the ax against a nearby tree and took a knee in front of me. He paused and glanced up at me for permission, and after I nodded, he took my ankle tenderly in his massive, calloused hands.

“On a scale of one to ten, tell me how much it hurts.” He began gently poking at parts of my ankle.

“Five. Five. Four. Three… FUCK . Ten. Ten!”

Jack carefully lowered my ankle to the ground. “I’m pretty sure you have a ligament tear. Can you try putting some weight on it?”

I pushed off the ground, leaning heavily on my good leg. Slowly, I tried shifting the weight to the bad one.

“Nope,” I gritted out, flopping back down onto my butt. “Not even a little bit of weight.”

Jack sighed and looked around. Then he glanced at his Garmin watch. “Where are you headed?”

“Denver.”

He started laughing, then trailed off. “Oh, you’re serious.”

“Why would I be joking about that?”

“You don’t look like the typical thru-hiker.”

“Now who’s judging people based off their appearances?”

His lip twitched with the hint of a smile. “You’ve got me there. Where are you camping tonight?”

“Shavano Campground.”

“You’ll never make it there before dark. Even with a good ankle. You need to see a doctor.”

“I can’t see a doctor,” I replied.

“I’m pretty sure you can.”

“I don’t have health insurance right now.”

Jack stared at me for three long seconds. “You started a thru-hike of the Colorado Trail without any preparation, and you don’t even have health insurance?”

I wanted to snap back at him, but I had been grumpy enough with someone who was just trying to help me. So I ignored all the assumptions he was making about me—assumptions that were annoyingly accurate—and said, “I can’t afford to see a doctor. What other options do we have?”

Jack ran a hand through his dark hair and sighed. “Tell you what. There’s an off-shoot trail leading to my Jeep. It’s less than a mile. Then I’ll take you to see my buddy. He’ll fix you up for free.”

“I don’t want to sound ungrateful,” I said slowly, “but getting checked out by a random dude isn’t really comforting.”

Narrowing his eyes at me, Jack replied, “My buddy works at the Crested Butte Medical Center. He’ll treat you for free. He owes me a lot of favors.”

That didn’t sound bad. But my ankle throbbed even when I wasn’t putting weight on it, and it was beginning to turn a sickly shade of purple.

“A short walk to your Jeep sounds better than trying to get to my campsite for the night,” I admitted.

Jack slung his ax into a loop on his belt and hefted my backpack. It felt massive on my back, but he shouldered it like it barely weighed anything.

“Need a steadying hand?”

“I’m okay,” I replied.

We started moving. I was able to put a tiny bit of weight on my ankle, but I had one hell of a limp. Still, I was moving forward. Jack led the way, walking a few feet before glancing back at me.

After a few minutes, he let out a deep sigh. “Let me help you.”

“I said I’m fine.” I knew I was being stubborn but I was in a pretty bad mood with my busted ankle.

“I really don’t have all day to get you to my Jeep.”

He approached and wrapped an arm around my back. I wanted to brush him off and reiterate that I was fine, but the little bit of support he was providing was making it much easier to move.

“Thanks,” I muttered after a few minutes.

“Oh, so I do get a thank you.”

I glared sideways at him, then felt myself soften. “Sorry. I haven’t had a great time in the past week.”

“I can tell.”

We walked along the trail for five minutes, then found the cut-off that led to the trailhead where Jack was parked. The terrain immediately tilted downward, which was more difficult thanks to my ankle. Jack shouldered more of my weight as we descended.

This dude was strong. Thank goodness he wasn’t a serial killer… although that still remained to be seen.

There was a rattling noise behind us, and then the sound of tires scraping on dirt. A big guy on a mountain bike skidded to a stop five feet from us. And I mean big guy . If I thought Jack was a large man, this guy was absolutely gigantic.

The newcomer stared at us from behind the visor of his mountain biking helmet. His arms were as thick as tree branches, and covered with tattoos. I instinctively recoiled away from him, but he still seemed to loom over me. His presence was a physical force out here in the woods. Like he was one of the mountains in the San Juans.

He removed his helmet, revealing a face full of hard lines and flat planes. His eyes were as hard as stone, eyes that glanced at Jack before settling on me with just a hint of curiosity. I was suddenly glad Jack had an ax, although I doubted it would be enough of a defense against this behemoth of a human.

“About time you caught up to us,” Jack said.

The mountain biking titan grunted.

“You know him?” I squeaked out.

“This is my buddy, Ash,” Jack explained.

I felt some of the tension escape my body. Some.

“Hi,” I said.

Ash—what kind of a name was that?—nodded at me in greeting.

“She fucked up her ankle, so I offered her a ride into town,” Jack said. “We’ve been limping along as best we can.”

Ash glanced at his Garmin. “Not much time,” he said in a voice so deep it sounded like it came from a subwoofer.

There was something about him that excited me, despite how dangerous he looked. Maybe because of how he looked. The tattoos, the hard lines of his face, the way his massive palm gripped the biking helmet. His masculine presence was… something else.

“I’m moving as fast as I can,” I said. “It’s getting better, but I can still barely put any weight on it.”

Ash grunted unhappily. “I’ve got work tonight.”

“Got a better idea to get her down faster?” Jack asked him.

I tried not to seem intimidated as I looked up at the big man. “I’m done being stubborn. I’ll take whatever help I can get.”

Ash looked at me, looked at his bike, and then nodded. Before I knew what was happening, he bent towards me ever so slightly, wrapped both arms around my waist, and picked me up, throwing me over one shoulder like I was a bag of potatoes. With his other hand, he gripped the handlebar of his bike and hoisted it up like it was a toy.

Then he started trudging down the mountain, moving way faster than I had been going with Jack’s help. The intimidation I felt melted away, replaced by a primal cavewoman-being-carried-away sense of excitement.

I was too grateful to be offended.