Page 118 of Perfectly Matched: Harbor Falls Romance Collection

Worried didn’t begin to describe Rock’s concern for the woman. As she nuzzled into the crevice made between the back and bottom cushions of the old sofa, he covered her with a quilt he found on the small bed in the corner. It wasn’t the cleanest blanket he’d ever seen—although he gave it a good shake to get the dust off—but it provided warmth and comfort, and right now, that was the most important thing.

The woman barely moved during their trek through the woods other than an occasional incoherent mumble against this chest or snuggling closer to find warmth. Her eyelids had fluttered once or twice when he’d tucked the quilt around her. He needed to tend to her injuries but first, they needed heat.

He stepped back and glanced about his surroundings, flashing the light in his hand about the room. They had stumbled upon an old cabin—probably a hunting cabin—and one that hadn’t been used for a while. He’d managed to shoulder his way through the door and a rusty lock. Fortunately, the structure was sturdy and weatherproof, breaking the driving, icy wind. No whistling noises came through the walls either.

He’d take that blessing.

Setting the flashlight on the table, he sloughed out of his bulky overcoat. Caked on snow and ice fell to the wooden plank floor. He parked the coat over a metal kitchen chair and then shined the flashlight about to locate a broom, then swept the ice away toward the door to avoid puddles later. He intended to build a fire in the fireplace, situated opposite the sofa, as soon as possible. The flashlight battery wouldn’t last forever, he knew, and they could use both the heat and light from the fire to get through the night.

But first, the woman. Still unconscious, she faced the back cushions of the old sofa. Sitting on the edge of it, he leaned over to study her face, playing the light over her. She seemed to be breathing evenly, without effort. That was good. With a cold and trembling hand, he brushed her long, silky hair back from her face. She moaned and moved a little at this touch. Perhaps that was good too, she was somewhat aware of him being there.

He paused and waited, then smoothed her hair back more to reveal a bump and contusion on the side of her head. Blood matted her hair. He frowned and inspected the cut, deciding to leave it alone until he could get the fire started. He prayed the fireplace would work properly and heat the small, one-room cabin sufficiently to keep them warm throughout the night—it could be a long night, and he hoped only one night. The way the snow was coming down earlier, they could be here for a while.

Huffing out a breath, he slowly scanned the cabin. He sure hoped they were not here for days. Of course, they were fortunate to be out of the weather. He’d think about other provisions, like food and water, later.

She twisted toward the crevice and mumbled something about Christmas. He smiled at that.

Pretty. She was a pretty, young woman. Younger than him, likely. Attractive, and it was a shame about that bump and bruise marring her looks—but that was temporary. Her features were pert and cute, yet she was womanly and yes, quite pleasing to the eye.

Standing, he gazed down and then turned to his task. Not thinking about how pretty she is. Work to do. You’re the man, take care of things.

An old cord of wood lay in a wooden box next to the stone fireplace. With the aid of the flashlight, he made quick work of checking the damper, stacking the wood and kindling just so, and crumbling up pages from an old hunting magazine to start the flame. He prayed no birds had nested in the chimney or any other problem with it. Who knew how long it had been since the thing had been used? But he did find matches, conveniently located in a matchbox on the mantle, which was a both a good sign and a godsend. Within minutes, the dry wood and paper took off, flames licked higher, and the smoke rolled up the chimney.

Good. He stared into the fire until perspiration popped from his forehead.

That task done, he turned again toward the young woman. He wished he knew who she was, but her face wasn’t familiar. He knew most everyone around Harbor Falls so that was surprising. Perhaps she was just passing through. But why she’d be out on that narrow and winding road during a snowstorm, though, he couldn’t fathom—unless she was heading someplace specific. To someone or somewhere along that route.

“Probably same reason you were,”

he chided, talking to himself. Like him, she may have been oblivious to the weather or had lingered too long somewhere, thinking the storm would blow over or skirt the other side of the mountain as it often does.

No such luck.

“It’s Christmas Eve. Where were you heading? And who is missing you right now?”

For a moment, he wondered exactly when he would be missed, and frowned at the fact that there was no one home to miss him. He’d been alone for years, his parents gone, and him an only child. At thirty-five, men his age were usually married with children. He’d not yet found the woman to fit into his life—as a wife to him, or mother to his future children—although he had spent a lot of time lately wondering if he ever would.

When would it be discovered that he was missing? Once the parishioners had gathered at the church for the midnight service? Or sooner? He didn’t know, and at any rate, he was giving in to the fact that he was not going to be getting home tonight to deliver the midnight service this year. Maybe then, someone would come looking.

He sat on the edge of the sofa and slowly pulled the woman into a sitting position, tugging at her now wet coat to remove it, and then toss it aside. He frowned, realizing that a bit of the caked-on snow had melted into the cushions and quilt—which were also now wet. She moaned and turned toward him—blinked and shivered—then gave him a brief, blank stare. Just as quick, her head fell slack again, into his chest.

Rock lifted her away from the wet sofa and carried her closer to the fireplace, which was starting to warm the room nicely. Now that her coat was off, he laid her on the floor and did a quick assessment of her injuries—he’d once worked as a chaplain in a hospital and had witnessed emergency room triage on more than one occasion. Not that he was a doctor or anything, but he felt certain he could assess broken bones—and to his knowledge, she had none of those. No other cuts or bruising, either, he ascertained. Just the bump on the head.

He glanced to her feet, one small foot was missing a red high-heeled shoe, and he had no idea when that had happened. It could have gotten lost at any point along the way, although the scrap of leather wouldn’t have provided her much protection in this weather anyway.

He smiled—women—and tried not to look at her delicate ankles.

She coughed then, and her body shook. Rock raced back and grabbed a few more of the covers from the bed and returned to her. He dragged an overstuffed chair closer to the fire, then pulled the woman into his lap and wrapped them both in the covers like an overstuffed burrito. With her head nuzzled into the crook between his neck and chin, he tucked the blankets tightly around her feet and legs and wrapped his arms around her. He held her close, then leaned back against the chair and closed his eyes.

His last thought before contemplating sleep was that body heat was a wonderful thing.

****

Nora blinked and sucked in a breath, inhaling a spicy scent. Umm, nice. Aftershave. What?

Her eyes shot fully open and she scrambled backwards, pushing off a man’s firm chest and getting tangled in something confining, and then finally breaking free and landing firmly on her bottom on the floor. In two seconds flat she realized she had no earthly idea where she was, or who the man was sitting two feet away, staring and reaching for her.

Also, she was hot. Sweaty.

Oh my God. What have I been doing?

Pain shot across her forehead and she winced. A hand went to her temple.

“W-who are you? Where am I?”

Her chest heaved, sucking in and blowing out breaths. She stared at the dark-haired man gawking back. His face held a startled look, as if he’d just been awakened from sleep. Her gaze scanned the room behind him, and her fuzzy brain suddenly became a little sharper.

“Where are we?”

she repeated.

“Why I am here? What am I doing?”

She glanced down.

“And where are my shoes?”

The man washed his hands over his face and peered back. Finally, he spoke.

“That’s a lot of questions. Which one do you want me to answer first?”

“All of them.”

He cleared his throat and sat up straighter.

“All right then. Let’s see if I can get this right. I’m Reverend Rock Peters. We’re in a hunting cabin because our cars crashed in the snow—that’s two answers there. And you’ve been sleeping. I have no clue where your shoe is. Sorry.”

Snow. Car. Her brain spun with remembrance. Oh my, yes. Leaving Suzie’s. The car sliding, and… Then nothing.

“Sleeping?”

“Yes.”

“And trying to get warm, actually.”

She looked down at herself. Her white blouse was damp and sticking to her chest. Damn, but if her white lacy bra wasn’t showing through, like she was a contestant in a wet T-shirt contest.

“But I’m all sweaty.”

She looked at his chest.

“And so are you.”

“And you are implying?”

What? What am I implying? Her brain was a little scrambled. She cocked her chin up a bit and rubbed her forehead.

“Sorry, I’m a little confused. Not implying anything, just making sure that there has been no hanky-panky going on here, because buster, if there has….”

He chuckled.

“The fireplace really heated things up in this small cabin. I assure you, all we’ve been doing is sleeping. I’m an honorable man. You’re safe with me. There has been no hanky-panky.”

Nora exhaled. She glanced to the pool of blankets on the floor between them.

“Then why… Why were we wrapped up in those blankets together if it’s so damned hot in here?”

Wait. The man—what did he say his name was? Reverend? She really shouldn’t be cursing.

Oh shit. Shoot!

The Reverend stood.

“I wasn’t doing anything. You weren’t doing anything. We were trying to get warm. That’s it. I assure you, Miss—I’m sorry, but I don’t know your name—”

“Nora. Nora Patterson.”

She put out her hand, feeling a bit awkward. This wasn’t a business meeting after all. It was… Hell, heck, what was it?

He shook it. His hand was warm, smooth.

“Miss Nora—it is Miss, isn’t it?”

Nora nodded. Slowly. Oh, hells bells. Is he coming on to her? “Yes…”

She drew the word out slowly, wondering whether she should even have uttered it at all.

What was she thinking? Of course, he was not coming on to her. He was a man of the cloth. Just being kind. Definitely not making a pass. He hadn’t even given any indication that he found her attractive.

Why would she even think of that?

In any other situation, she might find him attractive, though. Not that she didn’t find him attractive now—dark hair, chiseled features, obviously fit and took care of himself. Handsome.

Okay, so I find him attractive. Even though I am not sure what is going on here.

He nodded back.

“All right then, Miss Nora. I assure you I have been a perfect gentleman, and you have been a lady.”

He paced a little, right, then left.

“When we arrived here we were nearly frozen and snow-covered, and you were unconscious. I had to do something to get us both warm or I knew we might not survive the night. That fireplace puts out quite a bit of heat, which actually, I am quite thankful for seeing that we’ve been caught in a snowstorm and who knows when we’ll get out of here.”

Nora blinked again.

“We’re stranded?”

Not only was she in a strange place, with a strange man, but she couldn’t leave?

“Appears that may be the case. I’d say we’ll know more come morning and daylight. By the way, how does your head feel?”

Nora’s hand went to her forehead again.

“Hurts like hell. Heck.”

The Reverend smiled and nodded.

“Seems it hasn’t affected your speech.”

Nora didn’t hesitate.

“I do talk a lot, especially when I am nervous. Sorry, Mr., er, Reverend, er, I didn’t catch your first name.”

“Rock.”

“Rock?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

He smiled then and sat in the chair.

“My mother loved Rock Hudson. Actually, my given name is Rockford, but Reverend Rockford Peters is a mouthful. You can call me Rock or Reverend Peters. Whichever you prefer.”

Nora felt her eyes widen. Whatever I prefer? She stood and faced the fire, putting a little distance between them. Calling him Rock seemed way too intimate. She stared into the flames.

“Reverend Peters is probably a good place to start.”

She heard him rise and take a few steps behind her.

“That’s absolutely fine, Miss Patterson.”

Nora turned and watched him head toward the cabin door and open it. The wind and a blast of snow shot inside the small room as he stepped out onto the porch. Behind her, the fireplace flared, warming her backside. She edged away from the hearth.

Panic raced from her gut to her throat. OMG. What is he doing?

She pushed to her feet and started for the door.

“Where are you going? Please don’t leave me here alone!”

****

Rock turned as he heard Nora’s shout. He looked back through the door in time to see her toes catch on the edge of the rug, and her entire body lurch forward. He watched as in slow motion, she dove forward and took a header off the arm of the couch, and then rolled to the floor and moaned.

He dropped the bowl of snow he had just scooped up and raced back into the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

“Nora!”

She and rolled onto her side, pushing herself up to a sitting position.

“I’m usually not this clumsy,”

she muttered.

He helped her up by cradling her elbows in his hands.

“Are you okay?”

She stared at him and blinked.

“I’m a klutz.”

“No, you’re still a bit disoriented.”

“Yes. My head is fizzy. Uh, fuzzy.”

“Were you dizzy?”

“Yes. I meant dizzy.”

Grimacing, she glanced off.

“I think I was dizzy before I tripped. Or maybe it was just a plain stupid air trip.”

Rock grinned. He couldn’t help himself.

“Well, here is the thing. You’ve had a nice whack on the head, and you need to stay put unless I’m helping you get somewhere. Let’s get you over to that chair.”

She frowned, and then fixed her gaze on his face.

“Actually, I think I want to sit right here. What were you doing? Leaving me?”

She paused, her eyes searching.

“Please don’t leave me. I don’t know how to keep the fire going and I don’t feel well, and…”

Rock silenced her with a forefinger to her lips. He hadn’t intended to do that, but it was the only way he figured he could stop her from talking. The second he touched her soft lips with the pad of his finger though, he regretted it. A spark traveled from his fingertip to his heart. And the dewy look in her eyes staring back hooked him in to seal the deal.

He couldn’t deny any longer the attraction he felt for her. Which was utterly stupid, of course. They’d just met, and this wasn’t real life, and she was barely even coherent. But he had watched her for what seemed like hours when she was out. He’d been worried about her with every whimper that stirred her plump lips. He’d watched her with concern and empathy and had prayed he’d done the right thing by bringing her here. And then while holding her in his arms as they slept, he’d felt a strange sort of rightness—a warmth in his heart he was sure he’d never felt before.

Through all of that, yes, he’d started feeling some sort of pull toward her.

Nonsense, his brain lectured. It’s the situation. Don’t confuse things.

He drew back and put his hand in his lap. He wished his brain wasn’t so practical sometimes. Still, he stared into her eyes.

“Nora, I wasn’t leaving you. I wouldn’t. I was going out to get some snow to melt to clean the blood off your forehead. I’m sorry. I should have said that, but I didn’t want to alarm you about the blood.”

Her gaze continued to penetrate, and he knew he had to make a choice—drown in those big eyes of hers, or back away.

She touched her temple again. “Oh,”

she said quietly.

“I didn’t realize. It’s just confusing.”

He didn’t budge. The softness of her small voice kept him glued to the floor beside her.

“I understand.”

“I’m so stupid,” she said.

“No, you’re not. I should have told you what I was doing.”

“Is there a lot of blood?”

He brushed back a few wayward tendrils and re-inspected the wound.

“It’s dried and clotting, but yeah, there is a fair amount of blood. Want me to take care of it?”

She nodded, catching his stare. “Please?”

He smiled again and watched her lips curl up slightly.

“You don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

Rock begrudgingly pulled away from her and headed for the door. He wrestled with the door against the wind, then glanced back and realized her gaze was on him. Suddenly, he felt a million miles away from her and he did not like that feeling. Quickly, he located the bowl, scooped up some snow, and headed back inside toward the fire.

He set the metal bowl on the hearth and waited for the snow to melt while he went off in search of a cloth. All the while, without even looking, he knew Nora’s eyes were following him every step of the way.