Mountain Wild. Stacey Kayne

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      “I’d been hunting in those lower ranges the whole day. I didn’t come across anyone or hear any other gunshots.”

      He hoped Duce had made it back to the ranch. “How long have you lived up here?”

      “A while.”

      Boots pounced up beside her, his front paws landing in her lap. “I already fed you,” she said, her lips hinting at a smile.

      “Sorry about that.”

      “I’m used to it by now.” She scratched at his ears, turning his cow dog to a limp pile of fur.

      “You’ve spoiled him. Boots usually has better manners.”

      “You’ve been far more trouble than he has.”

      God save him, her smiling eyes sent a whisper of sensation across his skin as images flooded his mind. Unnerved by the rush of desire, he swept his gaze over the small space.

      Simple, clean, the nicest cave he’d ever seen. Small and dank, yet livable—for a miner. So where the hell was he?

      “More?” she asked, reaching for his bowl.

      The first two servings had taken the edge off his hunger, but he could easily put away another. “Only if you’re sure you can spare it.”

      She pushed his dog aside and went to the stove. His gaze followed her dainty form, trailing down the part of her braids to her slender, kissable neck.

      He pinched his eyes shut. If he’d actually made advances on her in her sleep, she’d be tossing him out on his ear, not serving him stew. And yet…he could practically feel her arms around his neck as she had kissed him into unconsciousness. He looked up as she stepped beside him, her eyes full of caution as she slid the bowl and mugs onto the table—she sure as hell didn’t like being near him.

      “You’ve saved my life,” he said. “And I still don’t know your name.”

      “I couldn’t rightly leave you in the snow.” She turned away and he caught her by the wrist.

      “That’s the second time you’ve avoided telling me your name. Who are you and where is your husband?”

      “If you value that hand,” she said, the chill in her tone raising the hair on the back of his neck, “move it.”

      Garret had lived with temperamental females long enough to know when his hide was in danger. This wasn’t a woman who took kindly to being backed into a corner—or grabbed by the wrist. She didn’t move to pull away but the cold clarity in her eyes told him her other hand was already gripping the hilt of her blade. A sudden move on his part would have painful results.

      Biting back a swear word, he opened his fingers.

      “My apologies.”

      She took a step back, glowering at him as she rubbed her wrist. He knew he hadn’t used enough pressure to bruise her soft skin.

      “Well?” he persisted. “Why isn’t your husband here? You are married, aren’t you?”

      “I don’t see how my life history would be beneficial to you, Mr. Daines.”

      “Considering I’ve been lying naked in your bed for the past few days,” he said bluntly, “asking your marital status seems a fair question.”

      She crossed her arms, her pointed little chin raising a few notches. “Are you suggesting I should have left you in the snow for the sake of propriety?”

      Her crisp speech carried a hint of formality that reminded him of Amanda’s. This woman’s sharp gaze and graceful mannerisms belayed her odd attire. She’d been properly schooled. Must have been a sweet-talking sonuvagun who’d convinced her to come all the way out here.

      “No, ma’am,” he said. “I’m grateful for your help. But your husband may not appreciate—”

      “I don’t have a husband, so you can relax.”

      Relax? With the thoughts that were filtering through his mind. Not likely. Why the hell didn’t she have a husband? “You live way up here alone?”

      “You should be focusing on getting your strength back. You’ll be leaving as soon as the weather allows.”

      Her hostility and evasiveness gnawed at him. He was obviously making her nervous. Hell, he was making himself nervous!

      “I know for certain I wasn’t near any homestead when the storm hit,” he said, hoping a less invasive question would get him some answers. “At least none that I’m aware of. I’ve lived in this area for nearly nine years.”

      “Do you really think you’re on a homestead?”

      She wasn’t buying any of it.

      “No, ma’am. More of a miner’s claim, I suppose.”

      Her single arched eyebrow wasn’t a denial or a confirmation. The sheer challenge in her gaze caused a discomforting stir in his britches. He was starting to think he had a thing for sassy women. Sassy, stern and pretty beyond measure.

      Her cheeks flushed to a soft pink before she hooded those blue eyes with thick lashes.

      And passionate, his mind added. She’d been hesitant at first but had quickly turned to sweet fire in his arms.

      Garret dropped his spoon, the provocative images in his mind driving him to the brink of insanity.

       “Did I bed you?”

      Her gaze snapped up, pinning him with those vibrant blue eyes.

      Well hell, that hadn’t been the smooth delivery he’d hoped for.

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