Page 4 of Mountain Man

My reluctant rescuer rubbed his giant hands down the fronts of his pants. “Ah…” he said.

“I’m sorry,” I said again.

He grabbed a mug and I watched him put cocoa and sugar in it, then pour some milk-like liquid from a tin. He topped it up with boiling water from another pot on the hot plate above the fire and brought it to me. I stared up at him.

“Cocoa,” he said and held it out.

“Oh. Thank you.”

He stood there, not moving, still looking down at me. “Drink,” he finally said.

I thought I better do as he ordered, and lifted the mug, taking a sip. His heavy stare hadn’t left my face, but it dropped to my mouth, not leaving when I lowered the mug.

“This is delicious.” I licked my lips self-consciously.

His nostrils flared, and he quickly turned away and went back to chopping meat.

My belly did a weird little flip and I sat there trying to process what it was as I watched him dump his handiwork into the pot. The sizzle of meat hitting the heat filled the air. Vegetables came next, followed by water and seasoning.

He kept his eyes averted throughout this.

Finally, he walked to a shelf, pulled down a tin box, and walked toward me. “I need to wrap your ankle,” he said.

“Oh…no, it’s fine.”

He frowned. “It’s not.”

He was definitely a man of few words.

I started shaking my head, but he ignored me and flicked back the quilt covering my throbbing ankle. I gasped. It was swollen and bruised. No wonder it hurt like hell.

He’d shoved the covers back with force and my bare legs were completely exposed to mid-thigh. He dropped to his knees, and they cracked, loud in the silence. The man was even huge kneeling on the floor. The bed was low, and he still topped me by a head.

He opened the box and pulled out a large brown glass bottle. “This shit stinks, but it’ll help the swelling and bruising to go down faster.”

“What is it?”

“Family remedy,” he muttered and opened the lid.

“Good God,” I cried when it hit me. “That is the worst thing I’ve ever smelled.”

He shrugged. “The stink dies down once it’s on the skin and heats up.”

“Right.” I watched him scoop out some thick yellowish cream, and before I could offer to do it, his huge hand was on me. Rough-skinned but gentle fingers working it cautiously over my ankle.

I sucked in a breath, as what felt like small electrical currents travelled up my leg. “It feels warm.”

He didn’t answer. I looked from my ankle to his face and sucked in another breath, this one for another reason. Those nostrils were flared again, and his eyes were following his fingers. I watched his gaze go higher to the apex of my thighs, then dart back.

I squeezed my thighs together. This was humiliating.

His face darkened again, and he jerked his hands away, roughly grabbing a wrapped bandage from the box.

“Just gonna wrap it, then I’ll be done.”

He worked quickly, but was still gentle, making the bandage firm but not too firm. He taped the end down and quickly threw everything back in the box and moved back to the other side of the room like I carried a contagious disease.

I tugged the covers back into place. “Thank you…um…” I realized I didn’t know his name.