Mean Streak

He held her gaze for a moment, then walked over to the fireplace and began shifting the logs with the poker. “Not your problem.”

“You made it my problem.”

“Well, it won’t be from here on.”

She was about to launch another volley when she noticed the controlled actions of his strong hands. Not a single motion was wasted, each was deliberate. She experienced that misplaced constriction in her throat again. “You’re taking me back.”

He didn’t say anything, only stared into the heap of embers.

This accounted for his mood since he’d awakened her. She swallowed. “Tonight? Now?”

“Whenever you’re ready. The roads are clear enough.”

“We should go now then,” she said, although it hurt her throat to speak. “People are out in the cold, looking for me.”

“Not tonight.”

“What?”

“I went online and checked the news while you were asleep. They suspended the search until daybreak tomorrow.”

She glanced over at the laptop that she’d noticed earlier on the kitchen table.

“What are they speculating happened to me? Did you read anything about Jeff?”

“I only read the bullet points, not the details.” He kicked at an ember that had fallen just outside the grate. “What will you tell him about your time here?”

“I haven’t the slightest.”

His head came around, his right eyebrow slightly arched. The expression was so familiar to her now. He wanted an answer but didn’t want to come right out and ask for it.

“I have no idea what I’ll tell Jeff. Or anybody. I don’t remember what caused my concussion, so I can’t describe it as either an accident or an attack. I don’t know where we are, exactly. What can I tell them about you when I don’t know anything? Not your name or…or even why you brought me here.”

He cursed on a soft expulsion of breath as he braced his hands on the mantel and dropped his head between his arms. He remained staring down into the flames for several moments, then added logs to them and replaced the screen. He dusted his hands on the seat of his jeans.

Then he turned to her. “Well, I can clear up that last

uncertainty for you. Why I brought you here. I found you on the trail. What I did for you, sheltering you, feeding you, providing first aid—”

“You would have done for any stranger in need.”

“Hell I would,” he said harshly. “Yeah, I would have taken an injured person to an ER, dropped them off, and driven away. No risk, no involvement, no chance of exposure. But you, the most serious threat of all to—” He looked around at the interior of the cabin. “To everything. You, I wanted to hold on to for just a little longer.”

He held up his hand and closed it into a fist, as though demonstrating. “You’ll never appreciate the risk I took to keep you here. You sure as hell can’t identify with the struggle it’s been to keep myself off you.” He walked toward her, and when there were only inches separating them, he asked, “You still scared of me?”

“Very.”

He took another step. “But you’re not running. How come?”

“Because I do identify with that struggle.”

The sound he made was part groan, part growl. “You’d be smart to stop this now, Doc.”

He gave her time, but when she didn’t move, he reached around her with one hand and splayed it over her bottom. It seemed the heat of his hand dissolved the fabric of her running tights as he brought her up against him. He slid his other hand under her hair and curved it around the back of her neck, as he had done the night before.

“Last chance.”

She placed her palms on his chest and then slid them up onto his shoulders.