While coffee would be good, my empty stomach hoped for more. I opened a cupboard to find a few cans of soup. By the way it looked beyond the windows, sending for Uber Eats was out of the question. That thought led me to thoughts of my phone. I found it on the table near the bed, without any signal and with a very low battery.

There was nothing to suggest this cabin had electricity. Charging my phone or anything else was out of the question.

The cool cement floor beneath my feet was covered with an array of rugs of all sizes. The wood walls gave the feel of a real log cabin. The farther I moved away from the fireplace, the cooler the air became.

It was as I settled back on the thick blanket where I’d awakened and wrapped the quilt around me that the door to my side opened wide. A gust of cold wind filled with snow preceded the man from my memory. His arms were filled with logs. After giving me a quick glance, he kicked the door closed with his long leg. When he stood erect, he was tall, taller than me.

I obviously didn’t know this man or anything about him other than he’d saved my life and apparently disrobed me, yet without a word, my pulse increased and my cheeks felt flush.

His green eyes came my way before setting the logs in a round holder near the fireplace. Wiping his gloved hands one over the other, he dusted the snow, bark, and dirt to the floor. One by one, he pulled the gloves away from his long fingers, and still his gaze stayed glued on me.

I tugged on the quilt, suddenly reminded that this had been the man who removed my clothes. By looking at him, it was impossible to judge his age in the firelight. He wasn’t old or young and yet something about him held my attention.

The ends of his lips twitched, perhaps humored by my unease.

Unzipping the front of his brown coat, he shrugged it off, shaking the snow to the floor. Next, he removed his stocking cap, revealing a crown of messy dark hair. Finally breaking his stare, he turned to hang the coat and his stocking cap upon a peg near the door. The shirt under it was flannel and unbuttoned over a thermal shirt beneath.

Survival 101 came to mind with his layering.

Without glancing at my clothes, I knew I’d failed that test.

I worked my way to my feet and when he turned back, I spoke, “Thank you.”

He lifted his chin. “Not exactly a good night for a walk.” His gaze went to the window as white swirled in the darkness. “Of course, you’re welcome to leave if you want.”

I shook my head. “I don’t want that, not now.”