“To-too late.” Tears fell down her cheeks as agony engulfed her. The room spun slightly, making her feel ill.
“Easy, now. I’m sorry I frightened you. I shouldn’t have moved so quickly.” His voice was a soft croon. She’d expected him to scold her and instead he was taking the blame.
“No. My fault,” she told him. “I just…I was trying to look out the window and when you turned…I just got a bit of a fright. Sorry.”
She forced herself to look up as he grimaced. “Nothing to be sorry for, little one. I tend to scare most women, but I want you to know I would never hurt you, all right? You don’t need to fear me or my size.”
She wasn’t truly afraid, it had just been instinctive. After all, she didn’t really know him.
He turned away. “I’m going to go and get some more firewood. When I come back in, I’ll make you some soup.”
“You cook?” she asked. More to get him to linger than anything else. He seemed almost hurt by her reaction. But that was silly, he didn’t know her any better than she knew him. He put on his jacket and turned back to give her a smile without once meeting her gaze.
“I can cook. But in this case, it’s just canned stuff I’m afraid.”
“That’s all right. I’m used to canned soup.”
“You are?”
“Yeah. I’m a terrible cook. My mother used to say that if it was possible to burn water, I would.”
“Your mom? Will she be worried about you? I have my sat phone, we could try to call her.” Now he was looking straight at her, concern in his gaze.
“That’s okay. I don’t need to call her.”
He frowned slightly. “Someone else?”
“No. There’s no one to call,” she said quietly. “Some soup would be good, though. Thank you.”
She moved her gaze back to the ceiling and eventually she heard the door open. A gust of cold wind rocked its way through the cabin but it was quickly gone as the door closed again.
And she was alone. Which was a good thing. There was nothing wrong with being on your own. It meant that you got to make all the decisions. Eat what you want. Go to be bed when you liked. Be whoever you wanted to be.
So why did the thought of being alone scare her half to death?
* * *
Bear strode out of the cabin and headed to the small shack at the side where the firewood was stored. He’d have to come back when the weather was a bit better and restock supplies. But for now, he was glad that there was already a pile of firewood chopped and ready. He’d already brought in an armload earlier when he’d lit the fire. But he wanted to stock up. He started piling it up next to the door, under the porch roof.
Plus, he’d needed an excuse to get away from the small woman tucked up in the only bed in the cabin. He didn’t think she’d realized that yet. But then she probably wasn’t thinking clearly.
Why had she been driving around in the middle of a snow storm? And why didn’t she have anyone to call?
A little thing like her should be coddled. She should have someone watching over her and making certain that she stayed safe.
That she apparently didn’t have that didn’t sit well with him at all.
He brought the last armload inside. He’d just opened the door when he heard a pained cry, followed by a thump. Dropping the armload of wood where he stood, he flicked the door shut and raced towards the bed that was partially screened off from what was essentially a one-room cabin with a small attached bathroom.
He found her lying on the floor in a heap, her hands grasping her head as though she thought it might roll right off her neck. She probably wished it would, considering how much that fall had to have hurt her.
He needed to get some painkillers into her, but he hadn’t wanted to give her anything until she’d woken up. How the hell had she managed to fall out? The bed was high, she could have really hurt herself. Did he need to fashion some sort of railing for her?
His first instinct was to pick her up and put her back into bed. But he remembered her reaction to him earlier. It wasn’t that he blamed her, but Bear was the last person to ever harm a woman. Sure, he wouldn’t hesitate to spank his woman if she ever disobeyed him and put herself in danger. But that was a small hurt to prevent a greater harm. It was the way he’d been raised. His father spanked his mother.
He crouched down, trying to make himself smaller and kept a few feet between them.
“Little miss? You okay? Did you hurt yourself?” She was such a tiny thing. Especially in comparison to him. Gorgeous too. With pale skin and wide, blue eyes and all that crazy hair which was a riot of curls around her face.