Page 4 of The Mountain Man’s Heat (Blue Mountain Burn: The Firefighters of Hartley Ridge #1)

Chapter Four

Iris

Stranger danger was drilled into me growing up. My mum—God love her—tried to be a helicopter parent before helicopter parenting was a thing. She’d freak out now if she knew I was inside a strange man’s home, dripping wet and miles away from the rest of the world.

At least Archie’s here to protect me. Ish. He’s curled up in a shivering ball on my feet, covered by a blanket the strange man—whose name I still don’t know—gave me after I finished drying Archie off with a towel.

Shifting on a wooden dining chair, I grimace as my shorts and underpants squelch. I am so wet. And not in the exciting way. Although, if I’m being honest, based on the fleeting glances I’ve allowed myself of the man who came to my aid, being wet in the exciting way is entirely possible.

He looks like he could be Chris Hemsworth’s body double, just with darker hair and stubble I bet would feel like sinful heaven scraping against my inner?—

Oh my God. Stop it, Iris. He has to be at least fifteen years older than you, and no way is someone that hot not already attached.

A drip of water trickles down the bridge of my nose, tickling my nostril, and I scrub it away with the back of my hand.

I’m shivering. After drying Archie, I attempted to dry myself with the other towel my stranger gave me, but my clothes are still sodden.

And my feet ache. I took off after Archie so quickly I didn’t stop to think that running through the bush in cheap-arse slides wasn’t ideal.

I need to get back to Aunt Lily’s place and get out of my wet clothes. Maybe have a hot bath. Maybe allow myself a little self-love as I picture my stranger.

My stranger? My?

“Here,” his deep, slightly husky voice rumbles above my head, and maybe I am wet for the exciting reason. That voice… Heart thumping in my ears, I look up.

He’s standing before me, a steaming mug in his hand.

“You need to warm up,” he says, extending the mug.

The distinct aroma of tea fills my lungs as his gaze locks with mine.

There’s something in his brown eyes, an intensity that sends a shiver through me.

I want to squeeze my thighs together. How did I go from being scared and angry over Archie to horny as hell over…

“What’s your name?” I ask, the question falling from me on a scratchy croak.

A muscle knots in his jaw. “Hudson McKinney.” He places the tea on the table at my elbow. “I’m the captain of the Hartley Ridge fire brigade.”

“You’re a firefighter?” My head fills with images of him in one of those firefighter charity calendars, the kind where the firefighters are all half naked, cuddling a cute puppy or kitten. The sensitive nub of my clit aches for attention.

“Thank you for grabbing Archie,” I reply. Reaching down, I give my aunt’s dog—still on my feet under the blanket—a soft pat. The storm is fading. Only the occasional rumble of thunder peppers the night now, distant and almost half-hearted. “My aunt would kill me if anything happened to him.”

“You are Lily Andrews’s niece, then.” A small smile creases the corners of his lips. “The one from Melbourne?”

I frown. “Yes. That’s me. Iris Andrews. Have I been the topic of conversation?”

“Not really.” He flicks a look at Archie and then at me. “You didn’t want the blanket?”

I smile down at my aunt’s dog. “I don’t want him getting cold.”

The man’s low chuckle is like a caress feathering my skin, and my nipples pucker. I need to get out of here before I embarrass myself and ask him to?—

An old landline phone attached to the kitchen wall bursts into ringing life, and for a moment, I almost laugh. I used to have my mobile set to the retro ringtone, but it’s so much more invasive and demanding in actuality.

“’Scuse me,” he says with a dip of his head. “I’ve got to get that.”

He strides over to the phone and plucks the handset from the cradle, the muscles of his broad back, shoulders, and arms coiling and flexing as he does so.

I swallow. Stick a semi-naked Hudson McKinney on the cover of a charity calendar, and it would sell out within the hour.

“What’s up?” he says into the phone.

Whoever’s on the other end says something, and he frowns and narrows his eyes. “Okay, that’s not exactly awesome news, but if we have a problem tonight, you can handle it, right?”

His gaze roams my face for a heartbeat, and he half turns away, running a hand through his hair. It’s still damp from coming to my aid. In fact, his shirt and jeans are damp as well.

Guilt ribbons through me, and I let out a sigh. If I’d been more prepared, Archie wouldn’t have escaped, and Hudson wouldn’t have needed to face the storm to help me. I don’t usually need rescuing. He must think I’m an idiot.

As soon as the storm passes—hopefully, any minute now—I’ll take Archie back to Aunt Lily’s place. Preferably via the road I’ve driven on once, and not through the bush like our last wild descent. If Hudson will drive us there, that is.

“No worries,” he says into the phone, returning his attention to me. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

He hangs up, studies me for a second, and then he crosses back to the table, pulling out the chair at a right angle to mine and sitting down. “There’s a tree down at the bottom of Kissingpoint Road,” he says. “A big one. Impossible to pass. I hope you don’t need to get into town tomorrow?”

I shake my head. “As long as I can go up…” Giving him a sheepish smile, I pat Archie again. “Speaking of, would you be okay driving me and Archie back to my aunt’s place? I think it’s only a few minutes up the mountain from here, yes?”

He dips his head. “Can do. Give me a sec, and I’ll bring my truck around to the front so you don’t have to run too far in the rain.”

Before I can tell him that’s not necessary—perhaps the rain will cool my blood?—he’s gone from the kitchen, out the back door, into the dark.

Archie lifts his head as the door closes. He rises to his feet with a low growl barely a few seconds later as the door swings back open.

Hudson walks back in, expression unreadable, new beads of water clinging to his dark hair. His gaze locks with mine, and rubbing at the back of his neck, he lets out a choppy laugh. “As it turns out, lightning didn’t just hit that one tree.”

I blink.

“My truck got hit as well. Front windscreen has been shattered, and two tires are melted.” His jaw knots. “It seems we’re not going anywhere tonight.”