A low chuckle rumbled out of his chest and he lifted a dark eyebrow at me. “Maybe. Would it impress you if I told you that I did?”
“Only if I believed it was true. I don’t think there’s such a thing as executive lumberjacks or corporate woodsmen.” I shifted my legs under the thick quilt that was covering me and frowned when I realized my legs were bare and that I had on a pair of thick wool socks that were definitely not mine. “Did you take my clothes off?” The question came out more of a squeak than a defiant burst of outrage.
He rose to his feet with a smooth shift of muscle and crossed his arms over that broad chest that I could tell was distinctly cut with powerful muscle and obviously latent strength. A shiver of unease slithered down my spine as the reality of how isolated we were hit me, right along with the awareness of just how big and capable he seemed to be.
He lifted a shoulder and let it fall in a careless shrug. “I had to. I wanted to make sure that wound on the top of your head was cleaned and flushed out since I don’t have anything on hand to close it and the last thing you want is to get a head injury infected. There was no way to wash it and your hair out without drenching you. Don’t worry, I behaved myself. When I have a woman in my bed, I like her to have a little more fight in her then you’ve had since we’ve met.”
I blinked up at the wooden ceiling and lifted my hand to rub my eyes. They felt grainy and dry. “How long have I been out?” I didn’t have a recollection of anything after him grabbing my arm and jerking my shoulder back to where it was supposed to go.
“Around twenty-four hours. It’s almost the same time as I found you yesterday. I’m running out of frozen shit to put on your shoulder. It’s so warm in here, none of it stays cold for very long. Why did you call me an executive lumberjack?” His lips quirked when he asked the question as he moved across the room to a microscopic kitchenette. He’d called it a cabin when he was carrying me through the woods and he wasn’t lying. There didn’t seem to be much to the space besides four bare walls, a couple of windows, the ancient stove, and the admittedly plush and comfy bed I was currently sprawled across.
“Because you’re dressed like you live in the woods but not like you’ve lived here forever. The clothes are practical but it almost seems like you’re wearing a costume. You look good in jeans and flannel but something tells me you would prefer a three-piece suit. One that costs a mint, if that ring you wear is anything to go by.” That was a lot of words for a mouth that hadn’t had anything to drink in a very long time. I tried to prop myself up on my good arm but my battered body protested immediately. Sighing at the ceiling, I quietly asked, “Would you mind getting me a glass of water? My mouth feels like the Sahara.”
I heard a faucet turn on and seconds later the bed dipped on my good side. A glass was held in front of me as I contemplated how I was going to sit up without sending spears of pain throughout my body. Ben solved the predicament by putting his free hand on the center of my back and slowly lifting me up. My shoulder still screamed in protest and the pain made my vision go spotty, but when that subsided, everything else seemed to be nothing more than a low ache and a dull throb.
I stared into those amazing eyes of his and offered up a weak thanks. His lips twitched like he found the entire situation amusing and he gave his dark head a little shake. “No problem. You picked a good day to come crashing down my mountain, Pop-Tart. It was the day I decided to turn over a new leaf.”
My eye skimmed over the jagged scar marring his throat. It was impossible to ignore. This close to him, it looked even more brutal and violent. He was also lucky to be alive.
“If things like that happened under your old leaf, I’m thinking it was a good call.” I tilted my chin in the direction of his marked throat and he lifted his fingers to touch the vivid reminder that he should probably appreciate every moment he was still breathing.
“Things like this were par for the course under my old leaf, and you’re right…I used to wear a very different uniform when I was there.” He pushed off the bed and ran a hand over his beard. “I’m trying to convince myself this leaf isn’t so bad, but I’m not quite there yet.” Bringing obvious truth to his words, he twisted that big, blingy ring on his finger.
I sucked back the water and held out the glass in response when he asked me if I wanted another. “So, where exactly was your old leaf located? That’s the second time you mentioned that you weren’t from around here originally.”