Page 1 of Rugged Mountain Man (Cold Mountain Nights #1)

Chapter one

Mika

Snow crunched beneath my sneakers as I traipsed along the empty mountain road. I hadn’t seen another car for hours, and my fingers had long since turned numb from the cold. I blew on my hands in a feeble attempt to warm them.

When I ran out the door this morning, I didn’t have time to grab my gloves. My only priority was to get the hell away from the house.

As soon as my ex-boyfriend left for work at the crack of dawn, I grabbed my meager savings, stuffed some clothes in my backpack, and took off. By the time he figured out I was gone, with no intention of coming back, I wanted to be miles away from him.

My teeth chattered as a gust of bitterly cold wind blasted me in the face. Living in rural Colorado should have been a dream come true. It was gorgeous, rich with wildlife, and so quiet, peaceful.

My ex was the problem. Especially when he became raging drunk.

So, I thumbed a ride from a passing trucker, on his way to a nearby logging company to pick up a load of timber. It took me in the opposite direction, away from town, away from civilization, deeper into the mountains.

But beggars can’t be choosers when you’re hitchhiking.

What little cash I had on hand needed to be saved for necessities—motels, food, clothes.

I couldn’t afford my own car, since I quit my job to move out here.

And an Uber would cost a small fortune when I was this far into the Colorado countryside.

Unfortunately, I was now stuck in the middle of nowhere. If I didn’t find shelter before nightfall, there was a very good chance that I would freeze to death before I ever reached town.

And the cherry on top? I didn’t have a cell phone. I left it at my ex’s place, so he couldn’t track me with it.

My eyes burned. I blamed it on the cold and the wind, not the sting of tears.

“I’m not going to cry over that bastard,” I sternly told myself. “He doesn’t deserve it.”

I shivered and rubbed my arms to generate some heat. Houses were so few and far between at this altitude. That’s why people escaped to the mountains in the first place. They didn’t want unexpected visitors dropping in for a chat.

Swallowing my pride, I had stopped at a run-down trailer, with two massive dogs chained up in the front yard, snarling and barking until they were frothing at the mouth. I stayed on the road, and I didn’t dare get any closer.

“Is anyone home?” I called.

“Keep it movin’,” a man’s voice snapped from inside. “If you’re not gone in five seconds, I’ll start shooting.”

I hurried away, slipping and sliding on the snow.

With only an hour left until sunset, desperation gnawed at my stomach. Building a fire was out of the question. I didn’t have matches or a lighter. Would rubbing two sticks together actually work to get a spark? Or was that an old wives’ tale?

As I rounded a bend in the road, I spotted a winding, rutted driveway, leading into a stand of evergreen trees. No tire tracks. No mail box.

It might take me further off course. A wild goose chase that left me empty handed. That would waste precious time I didn’t have right now. By sticking to the main road, I had a better chance of being seen by a passing car.

On the other hand, maybe those trees would provide shelter from this wind…

Adjusting the straps of my backpack on my shoulders, I glanced around. A cherry-red cardinal trilled from the branches of a nearby tree. Wind howled off the mountain peaks, cutting through the layers of clothing I wore.

It felt…lonely. No one would find me here.

I turned onto the driveway, marching up the road. I held my breath, waiting for a clue that someone was here after all. Making my way into the trees, a small rustic log cabin came into view.

My steps slowed as I surveyed the area, taking note of everything I saw.

Firewood piled by the door.

Cobwebs shrouded the windows.

No cars, no snowmobiles, no vehicles or transportation of any kind.

No dogs, either.

Maybe it really was abandoned.

Please let this be the lucky break I need, I silently pleaded.

An anxious knot formed in my chest as I approached the cabin. I knocked firmly three times.

Silence.

Okay, not necessarily a good or bad sign yet. Too early to tell.

Gripping the icy-cold door knob, I gave it a twist.

Unlocked.

But the door wouldn’t budge.

Bracing my shoulder against the wood, I shoved with all my weight. The door creaked and gave way, lurching open. I lost my balance and pitched forward, stumbling into the cabin.

Musty, stale air wafted over me. I coughed and waved a hand in front of my face. A thin layer of dust coated the floor. Plastic sheets covered a couch by the dark fireplace.

I didn’t see a light switch, so the cabin probably didn’t have any power or running water, but I could work with that.

Venturing inside, I took stock of my surroundings.

In the small kitchen area, I found an ancient tin of coffee grounds, two cracked brown mugs, and a few cans of Spam and beans, several years past their expiration date.

Tucked into the back of the cabin was a bedroom. Just like the couch, a twin mattress had been covered with plastic. Moths fluttered in the closet where two flannel shirts and a heavy Carhartt jacket had been forgotten long ago. Men’s sizes, extra large.

I discovered a small shed attached to the back porch. Various tools and animal traps were suspended on hooks, covering the walls. This must have been a hunting cabin.

Finally satisfied that I was completely alone, I allowed myself to take a deep breath. I would be okay here. Secluded. Isolated.

Dropping my backpack on the kitchen table, I set to work cleaning up the place. The plastic coverings were stripped away, and I wiped up the dust with an old rag from the counter. It didn’t sparkle, but at least it didn’t make me sneeze either.

As the sun slipped below the horizon, I built a fire in the fireplace, using a box of matches from the mantel. At last, the flames crackled to life. I sat back, hugging my knees to my chest.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” I whispered to the empty cabin.

Moving in with Brock should have been exciting. One step closer to getting married and starting the family that we had always talked about. Growing up in the foster system, a family was all I’d ever wanted. I watched other kids get adopted, but no one ever came to take me home.

High school was lonely. I was too quiet and shy to make friends. When I developed a crush on the quarterback of the football team—rich, popular, and good-looking—it became the running joke for the whole school. The plus-sized, plain-faced girl had no chance with a guy like him.

When I got into college, I didn’t date, didn’t even think about developing another crush. Love was for other people, not me.

Until Brock came along. All smooth charm and sweet-talking charisma.

Suddenly, I wasn’t alone anymore. For the first time in my life, I was asked out on a date. I pinched myself so many times to make sure I wasn’t dreaming that a bruise formed on the inside of my elbow.

Brock said everything I wanted to hear. Talking about a home, a family, and a place to belong. I soaked it up like the bone-dry sponge that I was, absorbing it into my starved little heart.

But moving in with him had…changed things.

Suddenly, he was drinking more than he usually did. And when he was drunk, he was so angry . Spewing vile things with disgust about my face, my body, about how hard it was to love me sometimes.

In the morning, he would apologize, kissing me sweetly. It seemed like nothing more than a fever dream. Had I imagined it? Was I exaggerating? Maybe it wasn’t really that bad…

I reached up and gingerly probed the bruise that arched across my cheekbone, just beneath my left eye. Still tender, although the swelling had gone down.

Last week, I burned dinner. Brock didn’t care that it was an accident.

He flew into a rage, spitting insults left and right until my face burned with shame.

I squeezed my eyes shut, shaking my head at the memory of his fist connecting with my face. The burst of pain. The fear that had spread through my bones, cold and crystal clear, like frost.

Did he ever really love me?

Or had I been too blinded by his promises of family to see that he actually hated me?

Either way, it didn’t matter now. I fed another log into the fire, building it up to a roaring blaze.

My stomach growled. I hadn’t eaten anything all day, but those expired cans of Spam and beans weren’t appealing, to say the least. I’d packed a handful of protein bars in the bottom of my backpack, but I didn’t know when I would be able to access food again, so I needed to make them last as long as possible.

There would be no dinner tonight.

I sighed and curled up on the ratty old rug in front of the fireplace. At twenty-six years old, I really thought my life would look different than this.

Instead, here I was, with no friends, no family, no boyfriend. Alone again. Just like that little girl I used to be, hoping that someone would adopt me one day.

A shiver racked my body. Even with the fire burning hot, the drafty cabin didn’t fend off the cold. I retrieved the Carhartt jacket from the closet, shaking off a layer of dust and brushing away moths. The liner had a few holes, and it smelled like mice, but it was better than nothing.

Burrowing into the jacket, I returned to the fire. Exhaustion weighed my eyelids down. Wind howled outside as darkness shadowed the cabin. Golden firelight flickered along the walls, dancing across the floor in garish patterns.

I must have dozed off because the next thing I knew, the rumble of a car’s engine approached. Followed by the tread of footsteps. The front door gave a groan as it was shoved open.

Someone was here.

I sat bolt upright. Standing on the threshold was the hulking figure of the largest man I’d ever seen in my life.

With trembling hands, I grabbed the fire poker next to the fireplace. The metal was cool in my grip, but firm, comforting. I cocked it back over my shoulder like a baseball player, ready to swing.