She peered at him over the cup. “Why should I trust you? I don’t even know who you are or what this place is.”
“We’re the people who keep others safe.”
As that sank in, she drew in a deep breath.
“Is there anything else you need?” he asked.
“To call my family.”
His lips tightened. “When the weather clears, we’ll get you back where you belong.”
“They’ll be worried.” Her voice took on an edge of panic.
He forced himself not to take a step toward her. He had a lot of jobs here, but it wasn’t to comfort a woman rescued from a storm.
“Your family has been notified that you’re safe. Any other requests?”
Her shoulders slumped as she curled inward. “How long before the roads open? Can’t we travel by snowmobile?”
Her question brought forward the memory of her arms around him—and the constant tremor he’d felt as she held on.
“The storm dumped three more feet on us overnight. It will be a little while before we can get out.” That wasn’t exactly the truth—they were special ops. They could get anywhere and scramble in minutes.
Her eyes widened. “Three feet? Isn’t it early in the season?”
“Not in these mountains. Any other requests before I leave you to your breakfast?”
She glanced down at herself. “Can I wash my clothes?”
Surprise made him arch a brow. “Yes. And I can get you more clothes too.” With a stark nod, he left her room and headed straight for one of the storage rooms, where they kept supplies and anything scrounged from the vacant ski resort above them.
He grabbed a lost-and-found box and a fancy suitcase and returned to her room. When he walked in and set them on the floor, she looked up in surprise, a spoon of cereal halfway to her mouth.
She set down the spoon and jumped up from the desk. “What the…”
He gestured to the items. “Use whatever you want.”
“You just have…boxes of clothes? And a suitcase?”
“Yes.”
“How many women have you kidnapped?”
He snorted. “So far, just you.”
Her eyes flared wide.
“Joking,” he rushed to add.
She bent and picked up a thick wool sweater from the box. “Do women live here?”
“No, but these were laying around.”
She held up the red sweater to herself and then picked up a plaid shirt. As she sifted through the box, he watched. She might be distressed at being stuck here, but she was still a woman and from what he knew about women, they liked clothes.
She held up a shirt that was big enough to fit two men. When she looked at Archer, her eyes lit up. “This would make a perfect sharing shirt.”
He eyed her. “What’s a sharing shirt?”
