Exposed : My Mountain Man Protector(7)

As I held the gauze in place and taped it down, I glanced at Blake. “You saved me. Thank you.”



His gaze was locked on the horizon, where the dot of the fleeing man was still visible. “And you’re bandaging me up. Still, no matter what that man said, I doubt that’s the end of it.”



I nodded, keeping my gaze where his was, where I’d have to be going soon. Back to the city. Back to Aspen, where now I knew Angelo was hunting for me.



“I know,” I said softly.



Without another word, Blake strode away into the house.



After a minute, his head popped out the door. “You coming?”



“Uhhh” was all I could manage as I followed him inside.



There was a big duffel bag in the middle of the floor, and Blake was tossing things in—clothes, food, supplies—and talking as he went.



“Whoever hired that guy is going to be sending others here. You’re not safe, and neither am I. Our best bet is to go farther into the mountains for a bit, stay in an old ranger’s station I know until this dies down and we can sneak you off somewhere. I can protect you as long as you listen to me.”



“Do you need help packing?” I asked.



“No. Just—hand me that,” he ordered, gesturing to a tartan mound on the bed that turned out to be a sleeping bag.



I obeyed with a frown. Clearly Blake was not well-acquainted with the word please.



As he packed, I checked my purse to find that, while lost in my memories, I had somehow left all my IDs at the Molly Gibson Lodge.



“Can we go back to town?” I asked Blake.



“No,” he said.



“It’s important. My IDs are there.”



He shrugged and paused in his haphazard throwing of things into the duffel bag to say, “Won’t need your IDs if you’re dead.”



And that settled it.



Once the duffel bag was fit to burst, we zipped it up, me sitting on it while Blake pulled the zipper with all his might. Afterward, wheezing, we surveyed our lump of supplies.



“Probably won’t need all of it, but it’s better to be safe,” he said.



He swung the bag onto his non-injured shoulder, closed and locked the door behind us, and we were off.



As we walked, it soon became clear that Blake preferred the company of the trees and squirrels over mine.



“How far is it to the station?” was my first question.



“A few hours” was his answer.



Then: “How long have you been here?” Met with: “A few months.”



Finally, my last attempt at conversation—“It’s beautiful here”—was met with the grand total of “yes.”



So, I gave up.



I pretended he was not there, that a man sent by my husband hadn’t just tried to kill me, that I was here, alone, walking up this mountain because I wanted to. It wasn’t hard to pretend. After all, I was surrounded by beauty. It was in the little hanging droops of bluebells scattered in the field, in the bright-yellow flocks of sunflowers swaying alongside them. It was in the mighty mass of the mountain looming above us.



“You weren’t actually going to strike him when he was trying to get the knife, were you?” Blake said.



I turned to find myself being dissected by his gaze.



“I don’t know,” I said. “I wasn’t thinking; I was just reacting.”



“You hardly know me,” he said.



“And you hardly know me,” I returned. “Honestly, I don’t know what I would’ve done. I just reacted; that’s it.”



Seeing my face, Blake apologized. “I’m sorry. I… It’s just been a while. I’m not used to people, and I never much liked them in the first place.”



“Okay,” I said. “Looks like this is just the place for you then.”



I glared at the army of spiky weeds we were approaching, all in just the right spot to attack my bare legs. What exactly was I supposed to say to Blake’s “I don’t like people”? “Sorry for existing”? Because I was. I really, genuinely was. I wished I wasn’t there, stuck with the one man who seemed about as happy as Angelo to be around me.



We walked until the mountain wasn’t so remote anymore, until the paths became steeper, the wildflowers rarer, and my legs started stinging with pain.



Finally, I asked him, “Can we take a break for a minute?”



He shrugged and sat down on the grass.



“We weren’t all born and raised in the forest like you,” I said, sitting down myself.



“I told you, I wasn’t born and raised here, or even in a forest. I’ve just been here for a few months.”