Chapter 3

Oh, my holy Jesus, the bear is attacking the car!

Ivy clutched at her chest, certain she was having a heart attack and her body would be found frozen, in this car, sometime in the spring.

The bear spoke. Wait, not a bear. A gigantic, bearded dude stood in the beam of her headlights.

Somehow that wasn't any better. Was he a crazy mountain man? One of those preppers? Some lunatic in need of a wife, who would kidnap her and hold her hostage, never to be heard from again?

"Are you okay?" His voice was muffled by the snow and the vehicle.

He didn't sound crazy. Squinting at him through the falling snow, Ivy didn't think he looked crazy either. But what did crazy look like, anyway? It wasn't always frothing at the mouth. Look at her Aunt Lucile. She was crazy as a Betsy bug and mean with it, and nobody'd ever know it to look at her.

"Lady, can you hear me? Are you all right?"

Get ahold of yourself, woman. Whoever this guy was, he wanted to help. Which was a damn sight better than freezing to death on this mountain.

"I'm okay. I can't get out."

"Are your legs pinned?"

He was big enough he looked like he could rip the vehicle apart with his bare hands. "No, the doors are just blocked." She'd been too afraid to move much for fear that a shift in weight would send her Blazer hurtling the rest of the way down the mountain.

"Is it just you?"

Ivy hesitated. Was he making sure there was only her to incapacitate? Oh, get a grip! It's a rational question in a rescue situation. "Just me."

"Sit tight."

Like she was gonna do anything else?

He moved back into the trees. Where was he going? For help? Maybe they were close to a town and could call a tow truck. Would a tow truck even get out in all of this mess? Could a tow truck get her out?

She jolted again as he knocked on the back window.

"Unlock the doors."

Ivy's hand hovered over the auto lock. He could be a lunatic axe murderer.

A lunatic axe murderer, who just happened to drive by an hour after you went over and risked his life to climb down, on the off chance he'd find somebody to kill? You are paranoid, my dear. This is further proof you made the right decision in not writing romance.

She hit unlock.

Her rescuer wrestled with the back hatch for a minute before popping the liftgate window. "The back's jammed, but the window will open. You'll need to climb out this way."

Ivy was still in the driver's seat. "Is it safe to move? What if the car rocks and slides further?"

"It's wedged pretty good. I don't think it's going anywhere. Either way, it's not safe for you to stay here." The low rumble of his voice was matter-of-fact and strangely soothing. He was clearly a man used to giving orders. "Just move slow and steady."

Searching for some kind of calm, she unbuckled her seatbelt and immediately fell onto the steering wheel and the deflated airbag. "Oooph."

"You okay?"

"Probably bruised from the seatbelt. Could've been a lot worse."

With excruciating care, Ivy worked her way out of the driver's seat and over the center console so she could retrieve her purse from where it had landed in the floorboard. The SUV groaned a little but didn't move. Her phone had ended up on the far side of the dash, well out of range while she'd been pinned in the driver's seat. She groped for it now, stretching her fingers across the vinyl until they closed around the case.

Her crow of victory was cut short as she saw the screen matched the spiderwebbing of the windshield. It didn't light at the press of the home button. Great. She really was at the mercy of this stranger. Tossing the ruined phone into her purse, she shoved it through the gap between the front seats and hauled herself over the console, into the back.

Her bags had flown forward in the crash. Oh, dear God, her laptop! Not that there was anything worth a damn on the current book, but she had years of ideas accumulated on that hard drive. Resisting the urge to try to open the case and check, she looped the strap over her head and wore the bag cross-body. She looked at the suitcase, currently lying at the base of the driver's seat.

So lucky that didn't hit my head.

"If I shove my suitcase up, can you grab it?"

The grumpy lumberjack - it was what he looked like in the flannel shirt and shearling trucker jacket, with that thick, dark beard - made a grunt she took as assent. It took some doing to wrestle the bag ahead of her and push it up and over the backseat, so he could reach across the cargo space and grab it. But though the Blazer creaked and groaned, it didn't actually move. That made Ivy feel better.

Climbing out herself took a little more effort. She felt like a fish, flopping over the back of the seat in a graceless heap. The motion jarred the assortment of bruises starting to make themselves known in the wake of fading adrenaline. Her hands were shaking as she curled them over the edge of the liftgate and stood against the back of the second row seat. It was just enough to get her head and shoulders out of the SUV.

"Anything hurt? Broken?" the lumberjack asked.

"I don't think so."

"Good." Before she could do so much as blink, he slid his massive hands beneath her arms, plucked her right out of the Chevy, and set her down.

Ivy's feet immediately splayed like a baby deer. Instinctively, she curled her hands into his jacket and hung on. His arms tightened around her, effectively pulling her closer as he steadied them both. She was frozen through, but she'd have sworn she felt the heat of him through all their layers of clothes. He was just so big and solid. Her heart kicked into a fresh gallop, this time from something other than fear, as she held on longer than she should.

Too embarrassed to meet his eyes, she turned her gaze toward the Blazer. The blood drained out of her head, leaving her dizzy as she took in exactly how precarious her position had been. "Holy shit. That's bad."

"It's all right. You're safe. I've gotcha." Though his voice was brusque, his hold on her was surprisingly gentle.

Ivy risked looking up at his face. She couldn't see much in the almost dark, past that mountain man beard. His mouth was pulled into a frown and his dark brows drew together over dark eyes that seemed to look right through her. Her skin flushed.

"Thank you." Flustered, she planted her feet and pushed away, though he didn't actually let her go until she was stable. "Did you see the bear?"

He tensed. "What bear?"

"There was a bear in the road. I swerved to avoid it."

"Probably long gone now."

Ivy blew out a breath. "That's a relief. Maybe there will be enough signal up top to call a...wrecker." She trailed off as she realized exactly how far up the top really was. The glow of headlights illuminated the edge far, far above their heads. It wasn't straight vertical, but near enough. "How the hell did you even get down here?"

"Rappelled."

She scanned him, looking for a harness. "With no gear?"

"I've got climbing rope."

And obviously he knew what he was doing if he'd made it all the way down here, but still. "You could've broken your neck."

His lips curved just a little, as if he found the idea of that amusing. "I didn't."

Something about that cockiness had a hysterical laugh bubbling up in her throat. What if this was all a hallucination? What if she'd gotten a concussion during the wreck and her mind had conjured up Michael Keenan himself to rescue her? He looked about like she thought Michael would since he'd gone off the grid. What if, even now, she was still trapped in that front seat, bleeding to death from a head wound?

He was talking again. " - no way a wrecker could even get out right now. There wouldn't be enough traction in these conditions to actually pull your vehicle out. And that's assuming they can actually get it out at all. Snow's just getting worse and town is twenty miles away. We need to get out of here and to shelter. My cabin's not far."

A prickle of worry skittered across her skin. He wasn't wrong. She'd freeze to death if she stayed out here. If this wasn't a hallucination, that meant she'd be trapped with this guy in the middle of freaking nowhere for who knew how long. She didn't know this man, her phone was toast, and she had no other option but to trust him. He'd risked his life for an absolute stranger, not even knowing whether someone was in the car. Surely, that was another check in the Not An Axe Murderer column.

And, come on, this was Tennessee. The snow couldn't last that long.

Working up what she hoped was a confident smile, Ivy looked at the rope he'd evidently used to climb down. "Okay then. Lead the way."

* * *

That was a fake-it-til-you-make-it smile if Harrison had ever seen one. He'd been running ascent scenarios since he got her out of the SUV. She was shaky but not terribly injured, best he could tell. Her red wool coat and jeans were meant for the city, but at least she wasn't wearing some ridiculous high-heeled shoes or designer boots. The rubber-soled Wallabees would give some decent traction. The safest way would be to send her up first.

"You ever do any rock climbing?"

She went brows up. "Does the climbing wall at the gym back in college and grad school count?"

She couldn't be that far out of school. "Better than nothing." He pulled out the para-cord and began to uncoil it. "I'm gonna fashion an emergency harness for you and belay you up the incline."

"You're gonna trust my weight to that?"

"It holds my weight, so you'll be nothing. It won't be comfortable, but it'll do the job." Quick and efficient, he had the knots tied by the time he finished speaking and stepped toward her with the loop.

The woman took half a step back. "We're gonna climb up there in the dark?"

"Look, lady, I'm not gonna freeze my ass off out here. The way out is up." It wasn't full dark yet, but it would be soon, and he felt too damned exposed.

She hesitated but evidently decided he was a better alternative to hypothermia. She gave a slow nod. Her hands - scraped from the airbag deployment probably - were white-knuckled around the strap of her bag as he stepped toward her again.

Good job, Wilkes. Terrify the accident victim.

Sucking in a breath, he made an effort to pull himself back from the edge of memories he'd been skating. Not Afghanistan. Not a trap. She was just a woman in the wrong place at the wrong time, and she was scared. Her very real fear helped dissolve some of his. He could be a slightly less grumpy bastard.

"So, you saw a bear?" Maybe getting her to talk would help distract her from what he was doing.

"Yeah. I came around the curve and it was right there, in the middle of the road. I fishtailed when I swerved and spun right out through the guardrail. I don't know what the heck it was doing there. I thought they were supposed to hibernate in the winter." Her teeth chattered, likely with shock as much as cold. He needed to get her to shelter and out of the elements.

Harrison held up the loop again. "I've got to get up in your personal space to do this, okay?" When she nodded again, he reached around to loop the cord behind her waist. "I don't think that's necessarily the case with bears this far south. It was in the fifties just two weeks ago. Either way, you were damned lucky the trees were thick."

"Yeah."

Her accent was Southern, but not the twang of East Tennessee. He couldn't quite place it. "I'm guessing you aren't from around here." Reaching between her legs, he pulled the cord up to meet the loops he held in his other hand.

"There's not a lot of snow where I'm from."

Harrison forgot what he'd asked because he suddenly became very aware that the body in front of him was female. She was so tiny and delicate, and she smelled, impossibly, of honeysuckle. The scent of it cut through whatever dark memories lingered, grounding him with an unexpected flash of heat.

When was the last time he'd been this close to a woman?

Struggling to bring himself back to the task at hand he tried to remember what he'd said. "There's not normally this much snow here, either. Not like this."

"I certainly didn't expect a blizzard in Tennessee."

"The weather people were calling it Stormageddon."

"Great." The absolute lack of enthusiasm almost made him smile.

He locked down the carabiner and adjusted the fit of the makeshift harness. It was too dark to see her well, but he had the feeling she was blushing as he tugged and arranged the lines around her excellent ass. He should not be noticing her ass.

Clearing his throat, he straightened. "Okay, here's how this is going to work."

By the time he'd explained it and had her repeat the procedure back to him to his satisfaction, it really was full dark. He didn't like it, but there wasn't much of an alternative.

"Ready?"

"As I'll ever be." She was freezing and probably still scared to death, but she didn't balk again. "Belay on."

Harrison's estimation of her went up a few notches. He braced his feet. "On belay. Take your time and be careful of your footing. If you slip, I'll catch you." That much he was capable of.

She began to climb. It wasn't a terrible incline. In the daylight, on a normal day, most novices in reasonable shape could probably take it without a rope. But in the dark, in the snow, with an accident victim suffering from exposure, shock, and unknown injuries... The harness would hold. He had faith in that. But a slip and fall would bang her up even more than the wreck already had, and under the circumstances, he couldn't get her up to the top fast or easily by himself. With every inch higher, he adjusted his grip, cranking down on the lines, ready for the sudden jerk of her full weight.

But it didn't come.

She was careful, testing each foot placement before pushing up and giving it her weight. There were a handful of saplings growing along the steep grade, and she made excellent use of them as she hauled herself up the slope, muttering the whole way. The wind and snow muffled her words, but he heard something that sounded like "Suck it up, Buttercup. Annika would say this is a cake walk. She'd be doing it without ropes, just like Tom Cruise."

As she got higher, he lost the thread of her one-sided conversation. The last ten feet was the steepest part of the climb. If there'd been any small trees there to start, her SUV had wiped them out. She paused where she was, angling her head back, then pressing it against one forearm.

"Doing all right?"

"Fine. Just making deals with myself that I'll get to the gym more often in the future." She twisted to look down at him as she spoke and he saw the moment she recognized her mistake.

The line jolted as she hastily flattened herself against the rock face.

"You okay?"

After a moment's hesitation she called back, "It's a really long way down."

"Are you dizzy?"

"Little bit."

That could be vertigo or she might've hit her head in the crash. Either way, he needed to speed this process up. If she lost consciousness, they'd be up shit creek. Bad as the weather was getting, there'd be no going back to town tonight. Whatever first aid she required would be on him. The weight of that responsibility had his already tense muscles coiling tighter. He didn't want anybody relying on him for anything, least of all this woman.

"Just breathe for a minute." Harrison wasn't entirely sure which of them he was talking to.

He was running alternate scenarios in his head when she started climbing again, quicker this time, as if she needed to get to the top before she completely lost her nerve. Speed usually translated to carelessness. In his world, that meant people ended up hurt or dead. He didn't need another body on his conscience.

Don't slip. Don't slip. Don't slip.

He stayed silent, lest he distract her from what she was doing. When she bellied over the top edge of the road and disappeared from view, he almost cheered. The relief that she'd made it, that there were no further injuries, almost buckled his knees.

"Good job. Now unhook yourself from the line and toss your end of the rope down. We'll haul up your bags."

The rope trembled as she detached herself. "Hey, you have a winch on the front of your Jeep."

"I don't want to take the time to walk you through how to use it in this weather. Just toss the rope down."

One minute passed. Then two. No rope.

"Problem?"

No answer. Shit. Had she passed out?

He was just about to haul himself to the top, her luggage be damned, when he heard the faint whine of an electric motor. Damn woman didn't listen. She'd probably break something or burn out the motor...

Her head appeared over the side, dark hair whipping in the wind. "The winch will be faster."

The winch cable almost smacked him in the face when she tossed it over.

Well, I'll be damned.

Maybe she wasn't so much a damsel in distress as he'd first thought. She was capable and, despite her injuries, perfectly able to get her feet under her and turn around to help him. Somehow that was a relief, too. She might've been able to rescue herself once she'd gotten up the nerve. Which meant she didn't really need him at all. She'd just needed a helping hand.

It was a good reminder from the universe that it wasn't actually his job to save everyone anymore.

Thank God.