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“And then what?” Helen’s eyes filled with tears again.

Monica didn’t buy that Helen was truly repentant. The tears were more likely to be shed for getting caught or for show. She thought about Helen’s comment that Pierre felt like Monica was perfect. He had often been annoyed that her job always came first. They’d had a couple of dozen dates over six weeks. No way had Pierre thought she was a perfect girlfriend.

That would have been someone who ignored her work to be with him when he wanted her to. Instead, she’d often had to say no or cancel on a scheduled date. Besides, it was supposed to have been a fun excursion with him, nothing permanent. She certainly hadn’t wanted to turn him into one of her kind.

Monica took a pillow from the couch and elevated Andy’s foot on the coffee table. Then she removed the plastic bag and began unwrapping her scarf from his foot. She carefully pulledoff one sock after another and then the ace bandage until his foot was bare.

His ankle was bruised and swollen, but luckily, he didn’t appear to have frostbite.

She told Andy, “I’ll warm some water and apply it to your feet with a cloth."

“Thanks. I’ll do the same for you.”

“What about us?” Helen asked as if she needed pampering when she’d been curled up in a blanket by the fireplace without a care in the world while Monica and Andy, both injured, had been trekking through miles of snow.

“You can’t be serious.” Monica applied a warm, wet cloth to Andy’s foot, warming it up and being careful not to hurt him. She couldn’t believe he’d made that trek in the snow on a sprained ankle.

He removed his boot and sock from his other foot.

She was proud of him for his fortitude in being there for her, aiding her, and protecting her. “Your foot looks good. Your ankle is a bit swollen, but being out in the snow may have helped keep it from swelling as much as it might have. There’s bruising around the ankle. But it’s turning black and blue in the next bruising stage—not from frostbite.”

“That’s good. Once we were inside the cabin and not walking through deep snow, I could step on it lightly. It should be good by tomorrow.”

She pressed another warm cloth on his foot, and he moaned. She looked up at him and stopped, worried he was in a lot of pain. “Are you okay?”

“That feels heavenly.”

She smiled with relief. “Your feet are cold. Thankfully, there are no signs of frostbite.” After she had applied the warm, wet cloth, she dried his feet, then massaged them gently.

He sighed. She pulled his dry socks on so his feet would stay warm.

“Okay, it’s your turn. Lie on the couch, put your feet on my lap, and I’ll check yours for frostbite.” He removed her boots and socks and felt how cold and wet her feet were.

As soon as she lay down on the couch, she groaned. “Sorry, my back hurts.”

“Yeah, you’ve been doing too much work.”

“As if we had a choice—either of us.”

“True.” He tossed her wet socks near the fireplace to let them dry. Her feet were burning and ice cold at the same time. He turned and placed her feet between his legs, warming them. “Man, are your poor feet cold.”

“That feels so much better. I didn’t realize how cold they were.” Changing into her bear would have probably helped warm her feet up a few times, but getting naked and standing in the snow hadn’t helped.

Now, her feet felt heavenly between his legs. And then his erection swelled up against her toes. The tips of his ears turned a little red, and she wanted to laugh. She smiled instead, and he smiled back. Man, he was hot.

Then her thoughts turned to other matters. After the snowstorm had stopped, they could be stuck there for a long time and run out of food. They had water and enough logs for the fire for a couple of weeks, but the food would only last a few days. They would have to ration it. At least Helen and her ex-boyfriend couldn’t “sneak” food while they were cuffed.

Monica closedher eyes and stretched out on her back on the couch while keeping her feet warm between Andy’s legs. Hehadn’t expected his cock to respond to her pressing against his groin. He was glad she wasn’t bothered by it.

He couldn’t help that any little bit of intimacy between them aroused him into wanting more. Glad she could finally relax and rest after all they had been through, he must have drifted off himself when Denny suddenly spoke.

“Hell,” Denny said, “a polar bear nearly killed me.”

Monica opened her eyes, glanced in Denny’s direction, and raised her brows. Andy had hoped that Monica could rest from her injuries longer, so he was annoyed that Denny had woken her.

“A polar bear? Get real.” Monica’s tone said it all—the guy had to have been delusional.

Helen looked at Denny to see what he had to say. Denny was a blond-haired man, his hair cut short and butch. He had a stern look, bullish, his brown eyes narrowed and angry most of the time. He never softened his expression, even when he looked at Helen.