Chapter 3

Chapter Three

West

I t takes a while for me to fully wake up, sleep dragging at my mind, making it hard for my brain to focus. My body’s aching in a way I’m not familiar with, the remnants of a headache lingering, but otherwise, I feel… okay? Mostly anyway.

I’m lying on something soft and warm, but I can’t place what it is. I know it isn’t my bed. Was I at my parents’ for some?—

Oh, that’s right. I was on my way to the Aiguille Resort because Daryn is an asshole.

Did I make it?

My lids too heavy to open at first, I try to remember what happened, wondering if I somehow blacked out after reaching the resort and don’t have any recollection of checking in.

The more I wake, the more I start to piece together my fragmented memories though, until it all floods back in a quick rush, spiking my heart rate.

I crashed.

Shit.

I force my eyes open. I’m definitely not in my car anymore, but I’m not sure if that’s good or bad. Not yet. Maybe some serial killer found me and brought me back to his lair.

How long have I been unconscious? The room around me is dim. The only light in the room comes from a soft lamp on the other side of the bed and the flickering of a fire somewhere in the room.

I flex my limbs, and everything seems to be in working order, just sore muscles like everything had tensed up when I crashed, maybe. I turn my head and come nose-to-nose with a large orange cat. They’re staring at me with one eye, the other obviously missing behind the sealed lids. The cat doesn’t move or make a sound, just studies me in a way that makes me wonder how long they would’ve waited before trying to eat me while I was unconscious.

The smokiness of the fire is mingling pleasantly with the pine and fresh air scent of the bedding I’m lying on, the pillow emitting a gust of the scent when I move my head. It relaxes me—even with the possible man-eating cat staring—and wakes me up more at the same time.

“Carla, leave him be,” a deep voice says, startling me.

I push myself upright quickly. My head swims for a moment before I lock eyes on an enormous white man. Even crouched like he is in front of the fireplace, I can tell he has to have a foot on me. I inherited my Korean mom’s small stature, barely topping out at five foot five.

The stranger has a body that’s thick with muscles, shoulders wide like a linebacker, and his handsome face is covered in a thick beard. He’s the epitome of a mountain man.

Good lord above. Have I woken up in a romance novel?

We stare at each other for a long, tense moment, a furrow between his brows, and then he glances at the cat next to me. “Hope she didn’t wake you.”

I shake my head slowly, feeling a bit unmoored.

No longer trapped in his gaze, I glance around. I’m in a small, cozy cabin that’s probably the same size as my apartment at home. It’s pretty much just one large room. The bed I’m on is massive—it would have to be to fit a man as big as him—and it’s in the back corner of the cabin with a small kitchenette and sitting area toward the front.

“Is this…” I start to ask, rubbing at my eyes. “What happened?”

He tosses another log onto the fire, embers spraying upward as the flames greedily begin to eat the fuel, and then he pushes to his full height, moving in a way that seems a bit odd.

I swallow, my heartbeat picking up pace. I was right. This man is as big as the mountain I’m stranded on. I should probably be afraid. I don’t know where I am, how I got here, what condition my car is in, or even this stranger’s name, but…

I woke up in what’s obviously his bed, I can see my suitcase nearby, and he has a one-eyed cat.

Doesn’t exactly scream ax murderer.

Part of my brain is screaming at me that that’s just my libido talking. That this man is so painfully attractive, I would willingly let myself get murdered if it meant getting dicked down first.

I ignore that voice.

“What do you remember?” he asks, dusting his hands off and moving toward the kitchen.

“It’s still a little blurry, but… I remember the accident. Something…” I shake my head, squinting at the beautiful, handmade quilt covering me. It’s made up of orange, red, and yellow squares, like a collage of fall vibes. “Something big ran in front of my car.”

The man grunts. “Probably a bear.”

“You think?” My gaze shoots up to him.

He shrugs as he opens the refrigerator. “Maybe. Could have been an elk.”

I’ve lived near the mountains, down in Stonewood Ridge, my whole life, and yet the idea of being forced off the road by a bear is almost more than I can handle.

“How did I get here?” I ask tentatively, pushing myself fully upright and then leaning back against the headboard. The headache I woke up with pings stronger at the movement, and I wince, rubbing at my temples .

“I couldn’t very well leave you,” he mutters, not even bothering to look at me. He doesn’t fill in any more of the blanks, but he must have rescued me from my car and then brought me here to his cabin.

“Thank you,” I say, forcing the words out as loudly as I can, grimacing at the pain it causes. “How long have I been asleep?”

“A little over an hour.”

I sigh. I was supposed to meet the client’s assistant as soon as I got to the resort. I can imagine my phone must be blowing up. Then I remember how it had died right before the crash. I glance around, spotting it on a table next to the huge recliner in the sitting area, plugged in.

“Do you have a number for a tow service around here?” I ask, psyching myself up to get out of this comfortable bed and go back out into the snowstorm.

He glances at me, a frown etched into his face. “Doesn’t matter,” he says gruffly, turning back to where he’s putting together a couple of sandwiches. My hollow stomach hopes one is for me. At his size, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were both for him. “No one’s coming out in the storm.”

“They have to,” I insist. “I need to get to the resort.”

“You’re not going anywhere. The roads aren’t going to be passable in another hour, and it could be days before they’re cleared again.”

“ Days ?” I shake my head and then clasp my forehead at the woozy feeling the sharp movement causes. “No, that’s… I can’t wait that long. My boss is going to kill me.”

“Could even be a week with the holiday,” he says, ignoring my panic.

“A week?” My half-assed plans of trying to convince the client to either come early or postpone until after Christmas so I can make it to my parents’ evaporates. “You’re saying I’m stuck here until after Christmas, possibly?”

“Maybe. You don’t have to like it, but that’s the reality.”

Considering he’s gone out of his way to save my life, he’s not exactly the most welcoming of hosts. Maybe he’s wrong though. Maybe the storm will pass through and not dump as much snow as he thinks, and I’ll be able to get my car and get to the resort tomorrow, salvaging my job and maybe my holiday.

Trying to finish the trek in the dark doesn’t seem smart though. I’ll wait until morning, thank him for giving me shelter, and then see if I can make it.

I glance around the cabin once more, finally taking note of the lack of decorations. “You don’t decorate for the holidays?”

My place looks like an elf vomited inside it. Mom always goes balls to the walls, and I’ve loved it my whole life, so when I got my own place, I took up the tradition of filling my spaces with as much Christmas cheer as possible.

He scowls at me, slicing the sandwiches in half. Based on the look, I’d say he considers that to be about the dumbest question anyone’s ever asked him. “I don’t do holidays.”

I squint at this big bear of man, my head cocked to the side. What did that even mean? Holidays happen whether you celebrate them or not, so why not add a little joy to your life?

“You don’t celebrate Christmas at all?” I clarify, pushing the warm quilt off and carefully climbing out of the man’s bed.

“No.”

“Are you Jewish or something?”

Another look that questions my sanity. “No.”

After the news he just gave me about the tow, I’d honestly rather stay huddled beneath the covers until the storm passes and the roads clear. Missing my family’s annual party has my heart breaking, but getting stuck in this minuscule cabin on the side of the mountain with this grumpy—albeit hot—recluse and not getting to celebrate at all?

That’s going to push me over my limits.

I’ve had a hell of a day, and I’m this close to throwing up my hands and running back out into the blizzard screaming, never to be heard from again.

Even if he is a Scrooge, he wouldn’t want that on his conscience .

I’m almost sure.

“Christmas has always been my favorite holiday,” I say, figuring if we’re stuck together, we can at least get to know one another. “My family always has a big Christmas Eve party that all of our extended family comes for. It’s like a family reunion every year but with gifts and decorations. It’s really nice,” I finish wistfully, my eyes prickling as I think about missing it this year.

He grunts, grabbing both plates and frowning when he sees me standing a couple of feet from his bed. “You need to rest. You might have a concussion.”

I don’t know what the symptoms of a concussion are, but he might be right based on the whole losing consciousness thing and lingering headache. “No, I need to figure out how to get to the resort.”

He sighs and sets the sandwiches on the small table that separates his kitchen area from the tiny living room. “It’s not happening. Now, sit down before you fall down.”

I let out a slow breath and collapse into one of the chairs. “This is a disaster,” I say softly, poking at the sandwich in front of me. “I’m so going to get fired.”

He doesn’t say anything to that, simply sits down and digs into his own meal. We eat in silence. The cat, Carla, hops down off the bed and onto the table next to my rescuer, and he carefully tears off a piece of meat from his sandwich and offers it to her. I watch, a little incredulous, as this giant man gently feeds and then scratches the head of his cat.

“What happened to her eye?” I ask after we both finish eating.

He scratches under her chin. “I don’t know. Vet says probably a fight.”

I nod, not sure what to say to that. Not sure what to do in this moment. It feels surreal, and I wonder if part of that is due to the lingering head trauma.

“What’s your name?” he asks as he stands.

“Hm? Oh, it’s West. ”

“I’m Ashley,” he says, grabbing my plate and setting both of them into the kitchen sink. “I usually head to bed early.”

He says it roughly, not exactly apologetic, but like he wants me to know this is his routine even if it’s inconvenient for me.

“Early to bed, early to rise type, huh?” I ask, rubbing at my temples once more. The headache is a little better, thanks to the food, but the feeling of despair is still lingering.

“Yeah.” Two white pills settle on the table next to the glass of water I’ve been sipping on. “For your headache.”

I glance up at him, surprised, but he’s already moved on, heading over to the bed and grabbing a pillow off it, carrying it toward the living room area.

“Help yourself to anything in the kitchen or bathroom,” he says, tossing the pillow onto the large recliner.

“Oh, I won’t be able to sleep upright like that. I’ll just sleep on the floor. Do you have a sleeping bag or something?”

He glances over at me, brows lowered over his crystal clear, blue eyes. “This is for me. You can take the bed.”

I immediately shake my head. “No, you saved my life, and you’re going to have to put up with me for who knows how long. I’m not going to kick you out of your own bed as well.”

“It’s fine?—”

I push to my feet and plant my hands on my hips. “It’s not fine. You take the bed.”

Sighing, Ashley tugs on his beard, eyes me for a long moment, and then says, “I guess we can share.”

My breath catches in my lungs, but I try to play it cool, shrugging and giving a nonchalant nod. “Yeah, sure. If you want.”