21. Chapter 21
Chapter twenty-one
Benjamin
T he delicate cracking beneath Benjamin’s feet sounded more like removing a shell from a hard-boiled egg than ice giving way. Yet just as he settled his hands on the rocks separating him from Francesca, his hiking boot dropped through the glassy surface and plunged into the icy creek below. The other followed immediately after.
Miguel had been right, at least; the water wasn’t deep, only reaching him at the middle of his shins. There was also zero risk of getting swept downstream because the current was weak.
But as Benjamin’s boot filled with the coldest water he’d ever felt, even an adventuring newcomer like him knew the severity of the situation. He looked up at Francesca, whose eyes were wide with shock.
“Fuck.” The husky curse jettisoned from his snowshoe buddy’s mouth. The single word carried the same level of anxiety that Benjamin felt down to his frigid feet.
He didn’t linger. Instead, he used all his strength to muscle his way up and through the boulders. Francesca pulled at his shoulders the whole way. Sliding over the top of the icy rocks, his trajectory continued. He grunted and landed on top of her, squashing her into the fresh snow. He caged her with his forearms as a surprised gasp puffed from her lips. The spicy, hot apple cider had remained on her breath, melding with the soothing scent of lavender and eucalyptus .
A flood of pink washed over her cheeks. Benjamin wondered how she would respond if he dipped down for a kiss and brushed his lips against hers to regain some of the warmth he’d lost stomping onto that creek.
“Do you mind?” she finally murmured, gaze flitting from his eyes to his lips and back. “This isn’t exactly the best time to hit on me.”
“Right.” He fumbled his way up to his feet and reached down to take her outstretched hand. “Now what?”
“Did you get water in your boots?” she asked, her voice quivering.
“Yes.”
“ Great .” Francesca blew out an aggressive breath. She grabbed the walkie-talkie from her shoulder. “Miguel? Hey, Miguel?”
“ I’m here, ” came the crackle scrambling through the speaker.
“Benjamin stepped through the ice. His feet are wet.”
“ Did either of you pack extra socks? ”
He shook his head as Francesca raised her eyebrows in question.
“No,” she huffed. Then her face lit up. “I can give him my dry socks; my boots have an extra fuzzy lining.”
“ Yes. Do that. ”
“Francesca, be reasonable,” Benjamin practically scolded. He wasn’t going to take her socks and leave her at an increased risk of frostbite or hypothermia or whatever could happen. Did he have cold feet? Sure. The pins and needles were rapidly becoming more aggressive, but it wasn’t unbearable. Yet.
“I’m not the one being unreasonable here,” she harped, laces already untied. “Now sit your ass down and do as you’re told.” He could see her determination in the set of her brow and fire swirling in her amber eyes. She wasn’t going to accept no for an answer .
Benjamin huffed but sat down and fumbled with the triple knot he’d fashioned earlier that morning to ensure his boots would stay on. His fingers were frigid and battled clumsily with the knot. Impatience won out and Francesca scootched closer. But when she swatted his icy hands away, she gasped.
“What happened to your gloves?” She admonished, already tugging hers from her small hands.
“I didn’t think to put them back on before following you into this frozen void of misery.”
Francesca rolled her eyes as she thrust his hands into her warm gloves. They barely extended past his knuckles, but at least his fingers had some reprieve. Nimbly, she managed to reverse the chaotic entanglement and loosen his laces. She then dug into her backpack and pulled out two gallon-sized food storage bags filled with snacks. She emptied the contents in the main compartment and thrust the empty clear baggies at Benajmin.
“After you put the dry socks on, put one of these on each foot. Otherwise, the water in your boots will immediately soak into the wool.”
“Thank you,” he conceded, accepting the dry socks and plastic bags from her. He slipped the frozen shoes back on, and then Frankie secured a more reasonable double knot.
“Pride won’t do either of us any good if we freeze to death,” she chided lightly. “Zip up your coat. And drink some more cider.”
“I don’t remember you being so demanding back in Seattle,” Benjamin joked, shivering from the wind picking up around them. The snow came down in buckets and managed to fully obscure their line of sight to the top of the ravine.
“That’s because a certain Professor Prick used up the bossy allotment all on his own.” Her perturbed scowl was cloyingly adorable with her tattered golden braids and pink nose. She’d regained a bit of color since her fall, and Benjamin rejoiced in her improved state.
He hated that he’d been such a hard-ass to her throughout the quarter.
He hated that he’d intentionally tried to get her to drop the class.
He hated that she was so startled by his advancements up on the trail that she felt compelled to retreat from his reach and fell down the valley and hit her head.
Benjamin glanced at her forehead, noting that the gauze seemed to be holding beneath his navy blue beanie. Blood hadn’t seeped through, but a few dried, rusty bits remained along her temple and cheekbone. Unease and nausea crept up his spine and clung to his shoulders like an over-cinched backpack.
“Jeeze, relax.” Francesca huffed. She laid a hand on his arm and squeezed. “You just went white as a sheet. Are you feeling all right?”
“A little lightheaded, but that’s probably the adrenaline.”
“You’re probably starving too.” She rummaged in her pack and pulled out a fistful of snacks. “I’ve got energy gels, jerky, GORP, stroopwafel. Pick your poison.”
His sweet tooth perked up and nearly barked like a dog.
“Definitely a stroopwafel.” His stomach growled, reminding him of his manners. “Please.”
She fished out a couple packets, handing one to him, then stuffed her goodies back into her backpack.
They sat in companionable silence, devouring the thin caramel-filled cookies and sipping the last of the still-warm cider. He could feel the life creep back in as the sugar hit his bloodstream, despite the niggling dread that accumulated as quickly as the snow around them.
The icy wind graduated to sharp gusts that scratched at Benjamin’s exposed face. Turning to face downwind proved futile because the frigid blasts seemed to bounce off the surrounding boulders straight back at him. He glanced over at Francesca, who sat huddled in a ball. She shivered continually no matter how small she made herself.
He swept his arm impulsively around her waist and pulled her astride his lap, chest to chest. He unzipped his coat and pulled her against his base layers before she could protest.
“What the hell?”
“Relax into me,” he soothed breathlessly.
She remained tense, back rigid.
“It’s smart to share body heat, right?” Benjamin asked abashedly. He’d seen it in countless shows and movies and read it in books but never really questioned whether it was a device to create proximity or something that would actually help matters. “You seemed warmer in my lap after I bandaged you up.”
Francesca finally relaxed a little then sunk fully against him and grumbled.
“Yeah,” she conceded. “It’s true.”
She rested her head beneath his chin and his stubble dragged across the wet knit of her hat. She hesitated until finally sliding her arms around his middle and burying her hands beneath his shirt to rest on his bare back.
Benjamin sucked in a breath at her little rebellion.
Her giggle was quiet and evil. “Are they cold?”
“Only if you consider a bag of frozen peas cold,” he hissed.
“Or a witch’s tits?”
“An abominable snowman’s balls.”
Her snort caused heat to bloom in his chest. Her content little sigh sent it lower.
“ Fr . . . you there—? ” The garbled static sent a jolt of hope through Benjamin .
Francesca scrambled for the radio, struggling to work the PTT button with her freezing hands.
“Y-yesss, w-we’re here.”
He pulled her even tighter at the warbled sound of her voice.
“ I have . . . and bad news. A snow . . . picking up . . . can’t . . . safely. ”
Francesca locked eyes with Benjamin. While the staticky connection cutting in and out was difficult to translate, her panicked thoughts read loud and clear across her stricken face.
They were stuck.
“You can’t get us out?” The shrill alarm in her voice gave Benjamin goosebumps.
“ No . . . but . . . about . . . half . . . ”
Francesca’s narrow shoulders heaved, sharp and rapid, as she struggled to control her anxiety. Her fear nearly broke him as it registered that they’d be stuck overnight in the elements—snowing, freezing, potentially deadly elements.
“Miguel. Miguel! I can’t understand you. Slow. Down,” she urged.
“ Cabin. About half . . . north . . . hope . . . ”