Chapter Thirty

Harper opened both eyes, blinking around. Reality filtered in in small pieces. An ice storm. No signal. Missed shift. Lucas. No, Jak. "Damn," she whispered, concern bringing her fully out of sleep and prompting her to sit up and look around. Her head turned immediately to the bed where Jak had slept the night before, but it was empty.

Why did she always sleep so hard when she couldn't manage more than a few hours at a time at home? Because you're alone. Listening for…danger. All right, so she knew the problem, just not how to fix it. Apparently her subconscious felt no danger here, though, and she slept soundly. There was a piece of fur on the floor under her, and she'd been kept warm by his blanket once again, while he'd slept without it. She'd tried to resist taking his blanket, but Jak had simply shaken his head and shoved it at her. She'd eased her guilt by telling herself he was right by the fire. And he was bigger than her. Quite a lot bigger.

Where was he? Harper got up, pulling on her boots and her jacket and opening the door to his cabin. She sucked in a small gasp as she took in the surroundings: a world shimmering and sparkling and seemingly made entirely of ice.

She took a tentative step outside, awestruck by the gleaming forest floor and the icicle-laden tree branches. It felt like a wonderland, and a spark of childlike delight flared inside her. She took the steps slowly, holding the railing, being careful not to slip. Her feet crunched into the thin layer of ice covering the snow as she walked around the side of his house, headed toward the outdoor "facilities."

When she stepped around the corner, she came to an immediate halt, her eyes widening as her mouth opened on a sudden intake of air. Jak was standing in the snow, shirtless, his jeans still unbuttoned and resting low on his hips, rubbing a piece of cloth over his wet hair. He raised his head at the small sound of surprise, the cloth he held lowering as his blue eyes speared her.

"Sorry," she said breathlessly. "I didn't know"—she raised her hand, indicating his half state of undress—"that you were, um…" She tried to look away, she really did, but his shoulders were so broad, his chest so beautifully sculpted, each muscle defined, his skin reddened from the cold, his small, flat nipples—

"Showering?"

"What?"

He looked at her in confusion, his brows knitting together. "I was showering."

"In the snow ?"

He moved closer, and it surprised her that she experienced no impulse to move away. "I have to if I want to stay clean in the winter."

"Yes. Oh, of course. It's just… It looks very…uh…uh…"

"Cold?" He lowered his head, his lip tilting up a bit, teasing.

"Huh?"

He frowned again, his eyes running over her. She was obviously confusing him. She was just sort of…slack-jawed and useless with him standing there like that. A half-naked snow warrior, scarred and exuding so much testosterone it must be addling her brain. Unbidden, her gaze dropped to the sparse line of dark hair on his flat stomach, following it slowly downward. "You can use it…"

Her gaze shot to his, eyes widening. "What?"

"I keep it dripping so it doesn't freeze." He nodded back over his shoulder to where the pipe ran up the side of the house.

Right. She glanced at the still-dripping pipe and wondered if he'd stood under it naked only moments before. She swallowed. Of course he did, Harper. Who showers in their pants? "No. I mean…I…don't think I could stand it. I'd die of cold. I'd freeze like an icicle."

He smiled slowly, that unpracticed one that was boyish and sweet and totally at odds with his appearance. She did step back then. Away from that smile that made her stomach muscles dance.

"I'll just wash up."

"Okay." He stepped around her, and she turned to watch him leave, letting out a gasp when she saw his back. He halted, turning his head.

"What happened to you?" she asked, moving closer and running her finger across a long, jagged scar that ran from his lower ribcage to the middle of his back. He had other scars on his back as well, but that one was by far the worst.

He turned toward her. "A pig. It tried to gut me."

"A pig? One of those wild boars?" She shivered internally. She hated those things. They were crazy and unpredictable, and she'd heard awful stories about people being horribly maimed or even killed by them when they'd unexpectedly encountered one.

"He was wild. But so am I." Something came into his eyes then, something challenging, though she wasn't sure whether the look had to do with the memory of being attacked by the wild boar or a warning he was issuing to her.

She raised her chin, meeting his eyes. "Clearly he didn't get the best of you."

He watched her for a few moments, and then he let out a breath, turning. Over his shoulder, he said, "I'll be inside."

She stood there for a moment, watching him walk effortlessly through the snow, knowing he'd done it a thousand times, under a thousand different winter skies. Why had he made a point to comment about being wild? she wondered as she turned and made her way inexpertly to the water pump a few feet away. Was it a warning? Why? Did he want her to go because she bothered him by interrupting the way of life he'd become familiar with and had no desire to change? She thought about what he'd told her the night before. How someone had taken him from his baka and left him out there. She supposed it wasn't much worse than what she'd already thought she understood: his parents had abandoned him to the elements. But didn't he want answers to the questions of who? and why? Who had been cruel enough to do that to a little boy? And could it be a coincidence that he'd seen the helicopters looking for her parents on the same night he'd been left out there?

She pondered on what little she knew of the mystery as she splashed frigid water on her face, letting out a sharp squeal as it hit her skin. She smoothed the water back through her hair, rinsed her mouth, and used her finger to clean her teeth as best as possible. He had a toothbrush in a cup next to the water pump but no toothpaste. No products at all. Apparently, he hadn't been willing to trade with Driscoll for shampoo. She used the other rustic amenities before heading back inside.

When she got to his door, she knocked, feeling uncomfortable with just opening it and letting herself inside. Jak pulled it open, now having put on the same long-sleeved shirt. She gestured over her shoulder. "It looks like a winter wonderland out there."

He looked past her for a moment, his gaze softening. "Things aren't always…the same as they look."

She stepped inside, and he closed the door. "Yes. I know. I mean, it's beautiful, but no less harsh. Is that what you mean?"

"Yes." He turned away.

As she was removing her coat and boots, she noticed two long, flat boards sitting against the wall in the corner. As she eyed them, she realized they had handmade "straps." Had he fashioned his own version of snow shoes from long pieces of wood? She was amazed. He really was…incredibly industrious. It was humbling to get a personal glimpse at the lengths he'd gone to to survive.

He set something in his bowl and mug on the table, and Harper walked to where he stood, sitting on one of the stools. He'd opened one of the cans of pears she'd brought and had put some of the smoked fish next to it. She smiled her thanks, and he looked pleased as he sat next to her. "Thank you, Jak. I appreciate your hospitality."

His eyebrows did that funny thing where one went up and one went down. She was beginning to recognize it as the expression he made when he was trying to put a word he didn't know into context. She resisted defining hospitality for him. He was clearly intelligent and possibly more well read than some people walking around Helena Springs, conducting perfectly successful lives, so she would allow him the time to deduce the meanings of words he didn't know. Or he could ask her. "Speaking of hospitality, I hope you're okay extending a little bit more." She shot him a slightly embarrassed glance. "My truck is under a sheet of ice, and I can't imagine those back roads ever get plowed. They're too far out of town."

His gaze was now focused on a pear as he sniffed it suspiciously and then, apparently happy with the scent, put it in his mouth. His lips curved as he chewed, his gaze meeting hers. Harper's stomach flipped at the pure joy contained in his expression. His smile grew, and he said around the mouthful, "You can stay here as long as you need to."

"Thanks."

After she'd taken a few bites, she turned to him, wiping pear juice from the corner of her mouth. "Jak, what you said out there about being wild. You know, it's nothing to feel ashamed of. The way you grew up was not your fault. You did what you had to do to survive. Most people wouldn't have been able to."

"Survival is the greatest training of all," he murmured.

His statement confused her. "Training? For what?"

He shook his head as though bringing himself back to the moment. "What happened after your parents died?"

"Me? Oh, I…grew up in foster care in Missoula."

"Foster care?"

She bobbed her head. "Yes. It's a state-run program for kids who don't have anyone to take care of them. Group homes or private residences."

"Which one were you in?"

"Uh, both. I moved around a few times."

He watched her closely, and she fidgeted for a moment, feeling exposed. Something stuck in her throat.

"And now you work at one?"

"Yes. I mean, part-time, mostly for something to do to fill my time during the colder months when my business slows down. I help out with the kids there."

"But you work at night when they're sleeping."

She blinked at him. He didn't miss a beat, did he? "Well, yes." She felt like she was on shaky ground very suddenly. "They need night shift workers too."

"You watch them while they sleep?" He tilted his head, his eyes running over her expression, reading her. Figuring her out, the same way he figured out words and customs and things he knew nothing about until he came upon them in the new world he'd been thrust into. Or, more specifically, had been thrust on him in the form of her, showing up at his home over and over again.

"Did you survive too, Harper?" he asked, his blue eyes piercing her.

She swallowed. She'd always sugarcoated her time in foster care to her friends and others she knew. But with him, she felt no need to. He'd called her honest, and she wanted to be. Not only with him, but with herself. Maybe brushing off her experience all these years as no big deal had done a great disservice to her own spirit. "Yes. I had to survive too. In different ways, but…yes."

Their eyes met, and an understanding moved between them. "Are those the things you keep inside? The things you don't tell people about?"

Harper nodded before spearing her last pear. She felt close to tears. Edgy. The way he was looking at her…like he knew every fearful, lonely moment she'd experienced, like he'd been there. She swallowed the pear with effort. If she kept sitting there, the emotions filling her chest were going to bubble over. They needed to bubble over. They were demanding to be set free. Just not there…not with his eyes probing her that way.

She stood so suddenly the heavy stool rocked backward before settling on the floor. His face filled with surprise as she took him by the hands. "Come on. I want to try out that thing you told me about."

"What thing?"

"Yelling my secrets to the mountaintops."

He gave her a quizzical look but didn't resist when she led him to where his coat and boots lay discarded on the floor by the door.

They put their winter gear on and then descended the steps, walking to the back of the house again. The sun was higher in the sky now, and the ice sparkled golden instead of silvery white. Winter birds twittered in the trees, and the sounds of dripping water could be heard all around. She suddenly felt silly. The crisp air had made her feel better, helped her zinging emotions settle, and now she hesitated. What am I doing?

But as soon as the thought went through her mind, she spotted a rock sticking up out of the snow. Well…why the heck not? She took a deep breath and stepped up onto it, facing toward the blue-gray mountains in the distance. As if each and every sorrow demanded release, swirls of emotions rioted for first place in her mind. She cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled, "I'm so hurt and…and angry that no one in town wanted to take me in when my parents died! Sometimes I want to move far away from this damn town and never look back!"

She let out a huge heaving breath, watching the tips of those mountains, imagining she could see the vapor of her words—the long-held truth—floating away from her body to take residence in those dark peaks. She turned, stepping carefully off the rock where Jak stood looking at her thoughtfully.

"Better?" he asked.

She sucked in a big breath, her chest rising and falling. "Yes. I think so." She paused. "Yes. You were right. It helps. I feel better al—"

"Keep going."

She nodded once, climbed back up onto the rock, and turned toward the mountains. "Sometimes I hate God for taking my parents from me! I…" A sob came up her throat, but she tried to stop it from escaping. "Sometimes I wish I'd died that night too." Her throat felt tight, as she instinctively tried to resist more painful words spilling from her tired, love-famished soul and simultaneously made the effort to force them out. "I've been so scared and alone." And that was all she could do. The sob that escaped then was followed by a small hiccup as she tried desperately to get her emotions under control. She turned back toward Jak, but too quickly, slipping on the ice-covered rock, losing her footing, and plunging forward.

Jak caught her, his arms wrapping around her waist as she wept. "You're not alone," he whispered. The whimper died on her lips as she opened her eyes to his face directly in front of hers, his mouth mere inches from her own. Her heart stuttered, swelled. For a suspended moment, their quickened breaths mingled in the air between them. She blinked in surprise, her body stilling. He glanced at her lips, his gaze heating and his arms squeezing her just a little tighter. Kiss me, she thought. Oh please, kiss me.

She could see the indecision on his face but knew he had to be the one to advance whatever it was between them. For a frozen moment, the entire forest stilled. The whole world waited. And then as quickly as that, their mouths were meeting, and Harper exhaled a breath of relief and joy over the sudden, overwhelming pleasure of his mouth against hers. The knowledge that he had chosen her. And she had chosen him.

For a second, they were both still; then he let out a small sound, a combination of a grunt and a groan as he opened his mouth very slightly and rubbed it over hers. Despite the completely unpracticed nature of the kiss, sparks shot through her veins, her blood heating. She didn't want to take control of the kiss. The waiting, the discovery of what he would do instinctively, was more arousing than anything she'd ever experienced.

He was holding her off the ground easily with his arms wrapped around her waist, and she sought even more closeness with him. She wrapped her legs around his body, bringing their cores together. He breathed out a harsh breath but didn't disconnect his lips from hers. The meeting of their bodies seemed to give him more confidence in their kiss, and he tilted his head, his lips parted from the escaped breath. His tongue flicked hers, and she couldn't help it then, taking his face in her hands and meeting his tongue with her own, showing him what to do. What she was practically dying for him to do.

His breath stuttered again, and then their tongues were twisting and dancing, and the moans that they were making echoed in the quiet of the ice-shrouded morning.

"Take me inside, Jak," she managed to say.