Danger Becomes You

“I’m sorry to bother you,” a woman’s shaking voice replied. “My car slid off the road and I’m stuck in a ditch. May I use your phone to call for help?”

He didn’t like her story. The road that passed his house wasn’t one of the main highways in the state. In fact, it ended at the lake about fifteen miles from here. What was she doing on this secondary road in the first place?

When he didn’t answer, she spoke again. “Hello? I know I’m a bother, I just—”

He unlocked the door and opened it just enough to see the snow-encrusted figure in front of him. She wore a lightweight coat with a hood. The coat stopped at her thighs, revealing jeans and winter boots. Her eyes were the golden color of aged whiskey and her face looked pale as death.

The word he muttered was unprintable. Just what he needed: a damsel in distress when he wasn’t in any shape or mood to play a blasted gallant knight.

He swung the door wide, the pistol at his side. “Get in so I can close the door.”

She hurriedly stepped inside. After he slammed the door shut and locked it, he turned and caught the woman looking at him in abject terror, her gaze frozen on the pistol in his hand. What did she think he was going to do, shoot anyone who showed up at his door?

Without commenting on her obvious fear, he moved to the table and laid the pistol down.

He turned and stared at her still huddled by the door.

She looked frozen.

Not his problem.

She was shaking.

Not his problem.

The snow she’d brought in was melting off her clothes and dripping onto the floor.

Now that was his problem.

“Look, lady. I have no intention of shooting you, so get that coat off before I have to wipe water off the floor.”

“Oh!” She looked down and saw the puddle around her feet. She quickly slipped off her coat and looked around for a place to put it.

The electricity had gone off a couple of hours ago and the large rectangular room was in shadows except for the kerosene lantern on the table by the chair in which he’d been reading.

“There’s a coatrack by the door,” he said gruffly.

He watched her remove her gloves and hang up her coat before she wiped down her jeans with her hands. When she turned to look around the cabin, her face telegraphed her trepidation.

Jase knew what she saw. The cabin was one room that ended in an L-shaped alcove where the kitchen was located. Besides the table and chairs, there was a couch that had seen better days, a recliner that once had been over-stuffed but now looked weary and two sets of bunk beds at the other end of the room, placed in opposite corners.

A potbellied stove vented through the roof sat in the middle of the room, radiating the only heat he had. The only other amenity was a small bathroom off the kitchen. He kept the door closed to conserve heat.

When she removed her hat he saw that she had short, feathery blond curls sticking up in tufts around her face. She was tall, slender and looked like a teenager.

Her eyes bespoke an innocence that he found unusual since she had a soft, full mouth that begged to be kissed.

Not that her looks meant anything to him, regardless of the fact he’d not seen a woman since he left the hospital. He knew he was no fit companion for anyone, most especially an innocent teenage girl.

He watched her pick up an old towel hanging near the door and hastily clean up the puddle of water. He refused to do more than glance at the way her jeans cupped her butt and clung to her long, shapely legs when she bent over.

Jase looked away, irritated by his awareness of her. He set his cane aside, wincing at the protesting places where bullets had been removed from his shoulder, side and thigh, and sat in the captain’s chair he’d been occupying before she arrived.

The pain brought him back to the present, reminding him why he had chosen to be alone through his recuperation. He’d retreated as far from his life as he could get. Not even his family knew where he was, which was exactly what he wanted.

When she straightened, he scowled at her. He didn’t want her here, but even he wasn’t cold-blooded enough to deny her some warmth and safety.

She attempted a smile that disappeared when he didn’t respond. “If I could use your phone and call for road assistance, I’ll be on my way.” She twisted her fingers as though attempting to braid them.

He stared at her in silence. She had a soft drawl that spoke of the South, which might explain her clothing, which was unsuitable for a northern winter, and her clueless attitude about traveling during a storm.

“You may not have noticed that we’re in the midst of a winter snowstorm. You aren’t going to find anyone willing to risk life and limb to pull your car out of a snowbank until the storm passes.”

She did her best to hide her panic, but he could see it in her eyes.

She turned away and reached for her coat.

“What are you doing now?” he demanded.

She looked over her shoulder. “I’ll go back to my car until the storm passes.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “Good thinking, Ms. Alabama,” he drawled. “By all means, return to your car where you can freeze to death while waiting for the storm to blow over. It could last for days.”

She turned slowly around to face him, her chin lifted. “My name is Leslie O’Brien and I’m from Tennessee, not Alabama. As for freezing, I’ll do what I can to stay warm since that seems to be my only option at the moment.”

Fine. Let her go. You don’t want her here, so let her freeze.

Instead of voicing his thoughts Jase said, “Don’t compound your foolishness with idiocy. You’ll stay here until someone can get out here to help you.” He nodded to his cane. “I’m afraid I can’t help. I’m still learning to walk without falling.”

Leslie folded her arms, her gaze glacial. “What, exactly, do you see as my foolishness?” she asked, ignoring his last remark.

“Being out in this kind of weather in the first place. Have you ever driven in snow before?”

Her mouth tightened. “As a matter of fact, I haven’t. When I left the motel at dawn I didn’t expect to run into a snowstorm. By the time the snowflakes began to fall, I was only thirty miles from my destination. I didn’t expect the flakes to turn into a storm so quickly or that the road would be so slippery.”

He shook his head wearily. “The fact remains that you’re here for the duration. You might as well accept it.”

His last comment was aimed at both of them.

He nodded to the coffeepot sitting on the woodstove. “As you can see, the electricity is out, which isn’t unusual during a storm. There’s coffee if you want some.”

She nodded her head jerkily and walked over to the stove, holding her hands out for warmth. He grabbed his cane and went over to the galley-like kitchen to fetch another cup. As he returned to his captain’s chair, he handed it to her.

She poured herself some coffee and, with something less than enthusiasm, approached the table, placing her cup at the opposite end from where he sat.

Instead of taking a seat she glanced around the room. “May I use your restroom?”

He nodded toward the door. “In there.”