Chapter Two
Maura Kennedy
Rolling to my side I snuggle into the pillow, inhaling deeply. A rich woodsy scent envelops me. The smell is delicious. I don’t remember buying this scent, but I can tell it’s going to be my new favorite.
“You’re awake. I was starting to worry,” a deep voice interrupts my thoughts. I bolt upright.
A mountain of a man stands at the end of the bed, fingers shoved in the front pockets of his jeans.
“Wh-who are you? How did you get in my….” I glance around him and realize nothing is familiar. “Where am I?”
He doesn’t really move, but it’s as if he deliberately relaxes his body, becoming more of a soft teddy bear than a rock mountain.
“You’re safe in my cabin. There’s a blizzard raging outside.”
“Cabin? Blizzard? Where are we?”
“North of Union Creek in the Cascade mountains. My name’s Jax, Jaxson Alexander. What’s yours?”
“I’m… I’m Maura.” Damn, why was that so hard to remember. My head is pounding, and I feel disoriented. Lifting a hand to rub my forehead I see a white bandage on my wrist. There’s one on my other wrist as well.
I glance up at the stranger at the end of the bed. “Wh-who are you? What have you done to me?”
“I found you on the mountain as the storm was hitting. You were calling for help. You passed out and I brought you to my home. You’re safe. I promise, you’re safe. Do you remember anything?”
“I—I need to pee.”
His eyes crinkle like he’s trying not to smile. “That’s a good sign. I bet you’d like something to eat and drink, too. You’ve been asleep for a while.”
“What’s a while?”
“Almost sixteen hours.”
“What? What happened to me? I never sleep that long. I’m late for work. Did I fall? Hit my head? I have to call work.”
“Phone service is down. Why don’t you go to the bathroom, then we’ll talk.” He points to a door on my left. “I’ll make coffee, or do you prefer tea?”
“Tea, please.”
“I’ll make some food and we can sit at the table and talk. You haven’t eaten in a long time, and you need to fuel your body.”
I throw back the blankets and notice I’m only wearing a man’s army T-shirt. “Whe—where are my clothes?”
“You were soaking wet. I had to put you in something dry. I swear, I did not touch you in any way other than to protect you. I know this is going to be hard but let’s take one thing at a time. You need food. There are sweatpants and socks on the counter in the bathroom.”
He turns his back and heads across the room to the kitchen area of the open floor plan.
I scurry into the bathroom. What the hell have I gotten myself into? After taking care of business, I wash my hands. Glancing in the mirror I notice my bra hanging in the shower. Something flickers in my mind but doesn’t linger.
What the hell was I doing in the mountains? How did I get there?
Oh my god, what if he kidnapped me and dragged me up here like one of those mountain men books? My hand is shaking and my head throbs. This doesn’t feel romantic like the books make it sound. It’s terrifying. I glance around for some kind of weapon, but I doubt the cellophane wrapped toothbrush laid out on the counter with the clothes will be very effective.
What is happening to me? I was at work yesterday. How did I get here? Why can’t I remember? Did he drug me? Where am I really?
Splashing cold water on my face, I grab the navy towel and press it to my face. An image of an average height and build guy in a full length dark blue wool coat holding a camera skitters through my mind. A feeling of revulsion washes over me.
What the hell? Am I losing my mind? Where did that come from? I don’t know anyone like that.
“Are you okay? Do you need help?” Jax asks from the other side of the door.
No. No, I’m not okay. I’m scaring the shit out of myself .
“I’m fine, I’ll be right out.” Okay, stay calm. Go with the flow and as soon as you can, sneak off. I pull on the socks and pants he left for me, rolling the waist and the cuffs so I don’t trip.
Opening the door, I pay closer attention to the room, looking for exits. The entire space is just one big room. The massive bed is to the right, two chairs with a side table and a loveseat sit before a huge fireplace. The side walls around it are filled from floor to ceiling with books. There’s one door on the far wall to the right.
As I approach, I can see the kitchen is a mix of old and new. Chopping block counter tops with open cupboards above that hold plates, bowls and cups. Pots and pans hang from hooks near the stove. There’s an old cast iron wood burning stove and what looks like a more modern one with gas burners.
A window above a dual sink confirms what he said about a snowstorm. I can’t see anything but white. One of the sinks has an old-fashioned pump faucet and the other a new two handle chrome.
The round table that could seat four is set for two. Folded cloth napkins lay across the plates. My tension eases just a bit. Would a kidnapper really take the time to fold cloth napkins?
Jax is at the wood burning stove, towel thrown over his shoulder. He glances my way and nods toward the counter. “The red canister has an assortment of teas. Grab whatever you like, and I’ll fill your mug.”
I grab an earl grey from the top then hesitate. What if he’s trying to drug me? Digging to the middle of the jar I select a Darjeeling.
When I glance up, he’s studying me. Meeting my gaze, he gives me a brief nod before grabbing the cast iron frying pan. Crossing to the table he dishes up the egg casserole he’s made onto two plates. “Choose your seat while I get my coffee.”
I wait until he’s filed my cup with water and seated before speaking. “I can’t eat all of this.”
“Eat what you want, I’ll finish the rest. I’ve got a small cooler, but it doesn’t hold much. Besides, you might be hungrier than you think.”
We eat in silence for a few minutes. “This is really good. Thank you.”
“Potatoes, eggs, cheese and vegetables. The little something special comes from the old cast iron pan. My Gramps had it his whole life. He said time is what seasoned everything we cooked.”
“Once I tried to cook in a cast iron pan and everything stuck.” I shake my head remembering how long it took me to clean the pan and I ended up getting rid of it anyway.
He smiles. “There’s an art to breaking in one of those pans. The one I was using is older than I am.”
“And how old is that?”
“Thirty-eight next month.” He glances up. “And you?”
“Twenty-two.” Something like disappointment washes over his face, but he schools his features quickly. “Is this like your get away cabin?”
“Nope. I’ve lived here full time since I got out of the service.”
“You were in the military?”
He runs a hand over his almost buzz cut. “Yeah. Did my twenty in the army. Gramps died while I was on a mission. He left this place to me. It’s quiet. I like it. Some good memories from when I lived with him.”
“Your grandfather raised you?”
“I spent summers with him most of my life. My parents split when I was thirteen. Neither one wanted me, so Gramps came and took me. I was with him until I joined the service at seventeen.”
“At seventeen?”
“I graduated early.” He looks pointedly at the bookcases. “Not a lot to do up here after chores. Except read and whittle.
“Which reminds me.” He reaches into the front pocket of his shirt, pulls out a wooden comb, and hands it to me.
Rubbing the top of his short-cropped hair again, he smiles, and I swear my ovaries stand at attention. Talk about panty melting.
“I don’t have any brushes or girl stuff, but I made you a comb until I can get you home. There was no purse where I found you.”
Pushing his empty plate to the side, he cups his coffee mug. “You wanna tell me what happened on that mountain?”
I push my half-eaten meal aside and grab my own cup, studying the blackened depths.
“Maura?”
“What day is it?” I ask.
“Monday, the twelfth.”
“Monday?!”
He leans forward. “Tell me Maura. What’s the last thing you remember.”
“The last thing I remember before waking up in your bed is getting off work at the bank on Saturday.”
I’ve lost almost three days? Oh my god. What…how do you forget three days? My heart is racing, my chest is tight. “What— what happened to me? Are you… Did you….”
“Take a deep breath, Maura. You’re starting to hyperventilate.”