felt like one had been used to crack it open.
The room was sparse. There was the makeshift bed in the corner that she was presently resting on. A very uncomfortable-looking lawn chair—the one he’d slept on last night—was pushed up to a table, which was nothing more than a piece of drift board propped up by stick legs tied off by rope. Either this guy was a survivalist or a former Boy Scout. She couldn’t decide which one.
Ella remembered that the stranger had slept hunched forward on that chair made of lightweight aluminum and cheap material. Only a gentleman would give up his bed...right?
Embarrassment heated her cheeks as she recalled him helping her outside to use the bathroom. If he’d wanted to take advantage of her, he’d had plenty of opportunity. And yet he wasn’t being welcoming.
The plate the stranger ate from was some kind of metal, like she’d used for camping with her brothers and sister when they were old enough to set up a tent in the backyard. It had come in an outdoorsman kit, she remembered.
She performed a mental calculation that took longer than it should have and made her brain pound against her skull. “I’ve been out for two days?”
“In and out,” the stranger said. She didn’t recognize his voice at all and she knew she would remember such a deep baritone if she’d heard it before. There was an intense but calming quality and it sent a trill of awareness through her, which was totally inappropriate and unwelcomed. She chalked her reaction up to hitting her head too hard.
“I’m sorry, have we met before?” she asked, hoping to place him. Her mind was fuzzy and she was having a hard time processing information.
“No.”
“Then can I ask who you are?” Ella racked her brain trying to figure out who he could be.
“No.” There was finality to his tone that sent a different kind of shiver down her spine, an icy chill that said he was a man with secrets.
The thought of being alone with a person who wouldn’t identify himself made Ella want to curl into a ball to protect herself. Her father was one of the richest men in Cattle Barge, Texas, and her life had turned upside down after being given the news of his death a few days ago. When she really thought about it, this man could be after her father’s money. She was still fuzzy as to why she was here in the first place, and no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t come up with a good explanation. She’d lost more than the last two days because she didn’t even remember why she’d gone hiking in the first place.
And then it hit her. Had she been abducted?
“Good luck if you’re trying to get ransom for me from my brothers,” she said. “My father was killed and all of our money is tied up right now.”
“I’m not interested,” he said, his voice a low rumble. He froze.
If it wasn’t ransom money he was after...then what?
Ella didn’t want to go there with the physical thing. Besides, there was something strange in his voice when she’d mentioned that her father had been killed. He’d stopped what he was doing, too.
“I should go.” She tried to force herself up on weak arms.
“That’s not a good idea.”
Icy fingers gripped her spine at his response.
“I’m perfectly capable of getting up and walking out of here and you can’t stop me,” she said with more indignation than she’d intended. It was the latent Irishwoman in her. Her mother had had the bright red hair to match, or so Ella had been told. Dear Mother had disappeared when Ella was too young to remember her and had never looked back. Ella took after her father with his honey-wheat locks and blue eyes. She had the stubbornness to match. She was also astute, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize the stranger was hiding from something or someone. And now she was alone in a cabin with him.
She had no plans to let her guard down.
“You need to hydrate. You wouldn’t make it a mile in this heat in your present condition,” he said.
“Do you live here?” she asked. He seemed to know the area pretty darn well and he was right. She wouldn’t last long in the August heat without provisions.
All he did was grunt in response.
Ella looked around, trying to find clues as to who the mystery man could be. The place was tidy. There was no dust on the floor. Her gaze slid to the door where a makeshift broom was positioned. It had been made from hay that had been tied together at the base of a tree limb. Whoever this mystery man was, he’d set up shop with the intention of sticking around awhile. He had survival skills, too. Her mind immediately headed down a negative path... Who would want to be alone on the most remote area of her father’s land? A man who has something to hide, a little voice answered. He could be a doomsday prepper, bank robber or—gasp—serial killer.
Her gaze darted around in an effort to find evidence as to which one he was.
To the other side of the doorway sat a duffel bag that had been zipped closed. She fought against her worst fears that there were torture instruments in there.
The stranger turned around and she could barely make out his features for all the facial hair. His build was football player big and he had to weigh in at well over two hundred pounds. He was pure muscle and his size was intimidating. That thought sent a trill of awareness skittering across her skin. Under different circumstances, she could appreciate the athletic grace with which he moved. Ella’s five-foot-five-inch frame was no match for this guy. Working the ranch kept her strong and in shape but she was small by comparison.
The lawn chair scraped against the hardwood flooring, drawing her attention.
“You didn’t tell me your name,” she said.
Another grunt came in response as the large figure moved toward the bed. Ella scrambled backward—pain shooting through her with every movement—until her back was against the wall. She fisted her hands, ready to swing if he gave her any indication that his intentions had changed.
There was something in his hand as he moved toward her, the light to his back. His sheer size blocked out the sun rays coming from the window and bathed her in darkness. Her body was ironing board rigid.
“Be still. And relax. I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, and he looked offended as his features came into focus.
“If that’s true, why won’t you tell me your name?” she asked, not ready to trust him.
“You’re better off not knowing.” His side was turned to her and his face was partially hidden. He didn’t make eye contact. Up close, she could see that he would be quite attractive if he cleaned up that beard or shaved it off altogether. More than attractive, actually, she thought as her stomach did an inappropriate little flip when he turned and she could really see into his eyes.
The man was clearly hiding something and an attraction was so out of the question that she had to choke back a laugh. Her emotions were all over the map. How hard had she hit her head?
“I’ll be the judge of that,” she said, seeing how far she could push her luck.
The layer of blankets dipped where he sat.
Her heart pounded in her chest and it felt like there was glue in her mouth for how dry her tongue was. Her entire body was strung tight.
“Let me see that gash on your forehead,” he said in his deep baritone. It had an amaretto-over-vanilla-ice-cream feeling and had that same warming effect on her insides. This close, she could see that he had deep-set, serious eyes that were the lightest, most pure shade of blue that she’d ever seen. A square jaw was covered by that dark beard. He had thick, curly hair the shade of a dark cup of coffee.
“What happened to me?” She inched toward him, not ready to give much more.
“I’m a man of my word. I already told you that I wouldn’t