having forgotten the injury.
His gaze followed the action and he stepped forward. Without asking, he picked up one of her hands and carefully prodded the abrasions, his touch far gentler than she would have expected.
She glanced down at the still body of her attacker. His barrel chest lifted with easy breaths. At least he was alive.
“Who are you?” She couldn’t continue to think of him as “handsome stranger” in her head. Well, she probably would, but it’d be nice to have a name, too.
“Niklas,” he responded.
“Niklas,” she repeated slowly, liking the taste of his name on her lips. It was … exotic. Like him.
His thumb moved slowly over her tender palm. Her chest tightened and her stomach knotted and grew queasy all at once. She snatched her hand away. The air around them crackled. She shifted on her feet uncomfortably, achingly aware of him and this attraction that was just … bad. Wrong. It couldn’t happen.
Sam returned then with a groggy-eyed Royal Canadian Mountie who took one look at Ned unconscious in the snow and muttered a profanity. “Ah, hell. Him again?”
“He attacked Darby here.” Sam waved at her.
“That so?” The RC scratched his jaw. “That should keep him locked up for a while this time.” He looked at Darby. “I’ll need a statement.”
She nodded.
He sighed as he moved toward the passed-out logger. “Guess we can do it in the morning though. It’s late and ass-cold out here. I’ll get him in a cell.” He glanced at Sam and Niklas. “Mind helping getting him in my car?”
Niklas nodded and hefted the big man into his arms, seemingly with little effort. Darby felt her mouth sag.
The officer gawked for a moment before leading the way around the building. Darby stood there, watching them disappear, still feeling the touch of his hand on hers. Tingles rippled up her arm.
“Hey, Darby. I’ll get some cardboard for that window.”
She started at Sam’s voice. She almost forgot he was still standing next to her.
He continued, “It’ll have to do until tomorrow. You’re welcome to stay the night with me and Vera—”
“No, thanks,” she replied automatically. Staying overnight with two other souls, potentially endangering them … it was out of the question. Especially Sam and his wife. They were good people and had been nothing but kind to her.
“Suit yourself.” Sam left and returned moments later with some broken-down boxes. Together they taped them over her window. She looked over her shoulder every now and then, half expecting, half hoping for Niklas to return. Perhaps even dreading it a little bit. Because she shouldn’t want him to come back. She was grateful for his help, but really, he should just stay away.
“That should do it.” Sam stepped back to inspect their handiwork. “Sure you’ll be okay? There’ll still be a draft.”
“Got the electric blanket.”
Sam nodded. “Well, g’night.”
He clomped down the wooden steps and she shut the door, not bothering to remove her coat. The room wasn’t much warmer than the air outside. She might have to sleep in her heavy parka.
She put the kettle on to boil and found herself pacing the small space of her kitchen, rubbing the back of her neck with anxious fingers.
Suddenly, she felt wired. Sucking in her breath, she undressed and slipped into a pair of flannel pajamas, donning the thickest pair of fuzzy socks she owned. She moved to the sink and turned on the warm water to rinse her palms, sighing with pleasure.
A knock sounded as she was patting her hands dry. Her heart jumped. She knew who it was before she looked through the peephole.
Opening the door to a blast of cold air, she trained her expression into one of cool reserve as she prepared to face her knight in shining armor for the night.
The last thing she expected to see was the cold fury gleaming in his indigo eyes. “What in hell do you think you’re doing?” he growled.
Behind her, the whistle to the kettle blew.
EIGHT
Darby gaped at him. “Excuse me?”
Niklas looked particularly displeased as he stared down at her. “What do you think you are doing?”
“Um.” She glanced over her shoulder at the rattling kettle. “Making some hot chocolate.”
“Why are you even here?” He glanced disgustedly at the window covered in cardboard, apparently unbothered by the screeching kettle. “You can’t mean to stay the night here. You’ll freeze.”
She moved into the kitchen and removed the kettle from the burner. “I have an electric blanket.”
“You’ve got to be kidding. Your boss expects you to—”
“No. Sam invited me