Chapter 15
Sunday
“Shit!”
I stare in defeat at the front of the truck, still wedged too deep in the accumulated forest snowfall. I toss the snow-boot that I’d been using like a spade into the back of the cab, slowly lifting myself into the driver’s seat and slamming the door shut behind me.
I pull off my cowgirl boots and hiss at the drenched state of my thermal socks, considering gently easing them off to give my feet a moment of reprieve. But deep down I know that when I have to get back out in the snow again, my toes will suffer even more if I have to wear my cowgirl boots without the thermals.
It’s been at least two hours since the pine tree struck the ground and I spun off the blacktop to avoid hitting the elk. I had half-hoped that maybe Casey would have some hardware in the back of his truck but, seeing as he didn’t, I’ve been using one of my hiking boots as a snow-shovel in between small treks where I’ve been searching for cell signal. Other than that, I’ve hunkered down in the front of the truck, allowing myself a couple of minutes of heating so that my body doesn’t totally shut down with the cold.
I reluctantly turn on the engine, way too scared about the battery dying to allow myself more than another two minutes of warmth in the truck. I hold my empty flask between my frozen fingers, my gaze flicking warily to a snowflake as it lands silently on Casey’s bumper.
Then my eyes fly to the treetops.
“Oh my God,” I whisper, as realisation dawns.
I’m stuck off-road… and it’s starting to snow.
I haven’t heard any vehicles on this road in the past two hours, and seeing as it’s unlikely that anyone will be venturing up here now given this morning’s forecast, it could be at least a day before any mountain rangers ride the ridge. Without any cell service, I can’t even call for help – unless I finally ditch the truck and attempt to venture on foot down the mountain road.
“Okay,” I whisper to myself. “I can do this. I can do this.”
I close my eyes, pray for strength, and kill the engine again, trying not to cry as the heater’s warmth immediately dissipates.
I tuck a curl behind my ear and then drop down from the truck, bundling my scarf as tight as possible as I begin slowly trudging through the silent pines.
When I reach the side of the road I take a deep breath and start walking.
My phone is safe and protected in my jacket pocket so when I’m a little farther down the blacktop I’m going to check if I have any service. If not, I’m going to suck it up and get back to the truck ASAP. At least I have some blankets and warm jumpers in there, even though I’d only brought them with a snowy truck-picnic in mind.
My teeth chatter quietly as my boots click against the shimmering expanse of empty road, and a sparkling flurry of snow begins to descend from the white clouds above.
It’s cold and wet and, even though it’s beautiful, it’s pretty terrifying, the road an endless line until the bend, completely shielded by the frost-covered evergreens.
I give it about five minutes until I check my phone. And then, when I see that I still have no connection, I start to cry.
Haven was right – this wasn’t a good idea. I shouldn’t have ventured to the trail on my own, even if it had seemed safe enough at the time.
I spin around and start running, as carefully as I can through the road’s snow-packed side. It’s too slick to walk with my cowgirl boots on the road so it’s ironically better for me to stay on the snow, even though that’s the main reason why I’m stuck out here in the first place.
I jog until my lungs start burning, my cheeks bright pink with the cold, and they feel even icier as my tear-tracks freeze against my snow-burnt skin.
I duck my head as the snow falls faster, keeping my eyes on the pointed toes of my boots so that I don’t have to see the giant tree in the road up ahead.
Desperation grips me and I check my cell one more time, standing on the precipice to the forest as I tap out another text to Haven, hoping that maybe somehow this time it’ll get through.
Snow and hail pummels down just as I’m about to leg it back through the pines, when in the next second I hear a loud skidding sound and my eyes flash to the curve in the road.
The broad bumper of a large black truck pierces through the white sheets of snow, and I move tentatively toward the edge of the forest, my hand shielding my eyes so that I can see without the weather’s obstruction.
The truck swerves to a quick stop and a second later the driver jumps out.
My heart pounds in my chest, disbelief and gratitude coursing through me.
Jason.
He closes the door to his truck and stands stock-still for one long moment, his chest heaving as he watches me with a slight frown on his sun-kissed brow.
And then he’s moving.
His long, steady strides eat up the distance stretched out between us and, after a few shaky breaths, I can’t wait any longer. I jog straight for him, as fast as the slick heels of my cowgirl boots allow, and then he’s banding those strong forearms around me, pulling me as close as possible before lifting me up.
I wrap my arms around his neck, burying my face in his throat as he holds me tighter.
And he exhales roughly when my frozen cheek meets the warm skin exposed at the top of his jacket, but instead of pulling away from me he places one large palm over my hair, urging me closer.
“You’re freezing,” he murmurs, the arm around my lower back holding firm, keeping the length of his warm body compressed tightly against mine.
I feel two hot teardrops slip silently down my pink cheeks and I quickly turn away from his neck, swiping them with my mittens so that he won’t notice.
He holds me firm in his strong grip, letting me soak up his warmth for as much time as he can, and then he gently eases me down, my arms still wrapped around his shoulders as my boots hit the blacktop.
His eyes search mine, the frown on his brow concerned and protective.
“Are you hurt?” he asks, keeping me flush against him with his heavy forearm.
“I’m fine,” I rasp, the break in my voice making me wince with embarrassment.
He shields my face with the palm of his hand, giving me a moment to swipe at my cheeks without being pelted with snow.
I sniffle and shake my head, breathing out a quiet laugh, and a tender smile curves his handsome mouth as he keeps my body sheltered with his.
“I don’t have my hat with me for you to wear this time,” he says quietly, and I drop my forehead to his chest – shaking at first with soft laughter, and then silent painful tears.
“Hey, hey,” he rumbles, cupping the back of my head with his steady palm. “You’re okay now, Sunday. I’ve got you now.”
“I tried to call you,” I rasp, tilting my head and looking up into his crystalline eyes. “And when I couldn’t find any cell service I tried to dig my way out.”
His frown deepens and his eyes flick toward the forest. “Dig your way out?” he repeats gently. “Did the tires slip on the road? Send the truck into the snow?”
He drops the palm that was sheltering my eyes, wrapping it around one of my mittens, and then he’s holding my hand in his as he starts walking us up the incline.
But barely four steps later he comes to an immediate stop.
I roll my lips into my mouth, flicking my eyes up to his as he blinks in shock.
He stares at the fallen tree, his brow lifting as he takes it in.
Then he drops his gaze back to mine.
“What the fuck is that?”
I swallow quickly. “That’s a pine tree.”
His irises blaze, his military mind already calculating what happened here.
He glances toward the tire treads imprinted in the snow, treads that are beyond the fallen tree – meaning that, seeing as the truck isn’t stuck behind it, the tree must have fallen after I had passed it.
As in, the tree fell down while I was here.
His voice is deep. “Tell me you were nowhere near it.”
One thing about me? I hate lying. And even though I can do it, I find it almost impossible.
So I look into his eyes without blinking and rasp, “I was, like, at least a good metre away from it.”
“ Sunday ,” he says hoarsely, his wide eyes searching mine, and then he curses and tugs me closer, draping his heavy forearm over my shoulders.
And the respectful touch barrier that Jason had erected all those weeks ago dissipates into something new, giving me the greenlight to finally press myself against him.
“Show me where the truck is,” he rumbles quietly, swiping snow from his stubble as he tears his eyes away from the pine.
“Um,” I whisper nervously, stepping into the snow, and glancing up at him over my shoulder as he follows half a step behind. “So, because I didn’t want to get stranded behind the tree, I had to hit the gas pretty hard, but then, you know, the elk showed up–”
“An elk?”
“Two elk,” I say before I can think better of it. Then I frown and add, “Wait. Is ‘elk’ singular or plural?”
Jason exhales roughly. “Jesus Christ.”
I wince and try to remove myself from his hold. “Sorry, never mind.”
But he immediately tugs me back, looking even more distressed than before.
“I’m not cursing about your wording – I’m cursing because I wish I’d been here to help you.”
We crunch over the final piles of snow before we reach the front of Casey’s truck, and Jason silently inspects the snow-packed tires, swiping his hand down his jaw.
Then he stands upright and glances down at me, tugging me under his biceps.
“You did a good job with the digging. What’d you use?”
I gesture vaguely toward the backseat of the truck. “One of my snow-boots,” I rasp.
Jason nods, then presses a gentle kiss to the tip of my cheekbone.
And my heart explodes.
“That was smart, baby. It won’t take long to remove the rest. I’m gonna grab a shovel from my truck and then, after a couple of shoves, we’ll get her moving.”
Then he squeezes those large palms over my shoulders.
“You’re gonna put the heating on and wait in my truck, okay?”
“I don’t want to kill your battery,” I rasp, feeling worried.
“Sunday, you already did all the hard work. This won’t take long, I promise.” Then, with a gentle smile, he asks quietly, “You tried calling me?”
I breathe out an embarrassed laugh, grateful that he’s distracting me with his tender flirting, and we walk as carefully as we can to his truck as the snow falls even heavier.
He pulls open the driver’s door, grips my waist, and helps me jump, blocking the cool air from streaming into the cab with the large expanse of his strong shoulders.
I curl up on his seat, trying to ignore how unbelievably good it smells in here.
Like pine and cedar. Inviting and deeply masculine.
He looks down at me for a second, his eyes heating before he flicks them away.
“Gonna grab my stuff from the tail-bed. Dig around the tires and then shove some weight against the bumper.”
I try not to shiver at the knowledge that by shove some weight he’s referring to using his giant hands to lift Casey’s car.
“Thank you,” I whisper up at him.
He shakes his head. “Don’t mention it.”
He closes the door and I watch in the mirror as he pulls on a pair of heavy-duty gloves, before dropping a shovel over his shoulder. Then he’s disappearing into the pines with a surprising amount of grace for a man so broad.
With the key already in the ignition I flip it on and turn up the heat, climbing carefully over to the passenger seat so that I can make out his movements through the trees.
Barely three minutes later I hear the heavy sound of a vehicle groaning, and I instantly kill the engine, hopping down and following the sound.
I watch Jason as he braces his thighs and shoves Casey’s vehicle forwards, the entire truck lurching as he releases it from the grip of the snow.
He grunts, gives it a final push, and then swipes his hands against his snow-soaked pants as he stands upright, his gaze instantly meeting mine as he catches me waiting by a pine near the forest border.
He stays silent as he makes his way toward me, tugging off his gloves as he looks me up and down. So calm, so confident, no matter the situation.
An unfazed soldier, through and through.
He wraps his palm around my hip, pulling me toward him as he watches me, and the blazing warmth from his touch sears through my thermal pants to the skin of my thighs.
“You okay to drive?” he asks quietly.
“Yeah, I’ve got it,” I rasp.
Although after this, I never want to drive again.
And he can sense exactly what I’m thinking because he pulls me closer, his eyes on mine.
“I’m gonna stand right here while you do the reverse, and then you’ll follow behind me on the drive back to Casey’s.” He thinks for a moment and adds, “Unless you want me to do the reverse. And you can take my truck if you prefer.”
I fight back a smile at the realisation that he’s offering me to use his truck after very clearly just crashing my brother’s.
I press a mitten against his solid abdomen and say, “That’s really kind, but I’ll be okay. And you definitely do not have to drive with me to Casey’s.”
“Sweetheart, that wasn’t a question. I’m driving with you back to Casey’s.”
Then he gives my hip a protective squeeze, and takes my hand as we walk back to Casey’s truck.
He waits for me to buckle in before stepping back and closing my door.
And I can’t help but notice that there’s now a satellite phone resting on the passenger seat.
My eyes flash to his and he watches me impassively as I hold it up to him, silently asking if he’d dropped his sat-phone there accidentally.
He simply points one of those big fingers at me, silently replying that’s for you .
My jaw drops open. He’s giving me his satellite phone?
It would be stupid to roll down a window when I spent so long getting the truck warm with heat so I shout loudly through the windshield, “You can’t give me this! You need it!”
He spreads his big boots farther apart and crosses his arms over his chest.
I almost roll my eyes out of my head, whispering whatever, fine, as I drop it back onto my passenger seat.
His cheekbone tics with satisfaction, a lazy smile tugging at his mouth.
I breathe out a laugh and kick the car to life, reversing carefully as he keeps pace beside my door.
When I make it back onto the road, the snowfall is mixing in with sheets of hail, and Jason gives me a palm-up gesture to wait there before running steadily back to his truck and ducking into the driver’s seat.
He spins the truck in a smooth U-turn before crooking his palm at me through the back windshield, a silent signal for me to follow him.
And because I trust him, I follow.
He drives more slowly than he usually would, given the ice that’s accumulating on the blacktop, and I stay a safe distance behind him, my hands still a little shaky as we finally make our way through the snow-covered town square.
By the time that we’re at Casey’s cabin, the entire day finally catches up to me, and I can’t pull to a stop on the driveway fast enough before throwing myself out into the still-falling snow.
Jason pulls up on the curb behind me and he’s up the drive before I even close the truck’s door, and he tugs me firmly into his arms, hauling me against his chest as my tears begin to fall.
I’ve always been a silent crier and it’s as if his body remembers that, too. I cried in his arms once before and, even when we were just kids, he knew how to handle it.
He holds me firmly against his chest, one palm enveloping my waist as he lifts me up from the snow.
“You need to dry off,” he murmurs quietly, walking us up the driveway and then setting me down on the porch. His large hands slide around the top of my jeans, eyes on mine as he caresses my hips.
His jaw tenses, his pupils dilating, his shoulders rising rapidly as he towers over me.
And warmth spreads through my chest as butterflies flutter in my stomach, my breathing shallow as I fumble in my pocket for my keys.
“Yeah,” I rasp, turning around so that I can open the door.
Jason’s hands slip from my jeans but I can feel his warmth as he stands behind me, a hot ache in my belly telling me that his burning gaze is on my body.
I can almost feel it as I shift my thighs, the weight of his eyes on me as I try to maintain my composure.
I twist the key and ease the door open, glancing over my shoulder to find his eyes on mine.
And from the way that he’s shoved his giant hands in his front pockets, I can tell that he’s waiting for me to make my move. To choose what happens next, in case my emotions are too fraught to start something right now.
Unless he’s shoved his hands in his front pockets for a different reason entirely…
I swallow and avert my gaze, cheeks flushing pink at the prospect of what might be happening between those muscular thighs right now.
Because Jason may be gentle and sweet with me but, at the end of the day, he’s just a man.
And right now I can see his needs clear as day as his chest rises and falls.
But before I can say anything he backsteps with a nod – silently telling me to stay inside and not let him follow.
“Get dried off,” he says, refusing to look any lower than my mouth, probably as aware as I am about the soaked state of my skin-tight jeans.
“Okay,” I whisper, pulling off my ear-muffs, just so that I have something to do with my hands that doesn’t involve dragging him in here by his belt loops. “I don’t even know how to say thank you for what you did today,” I rasp quietly, even though we both know exactly how I want to say thank you to Jason.
He shifts his boots and averts his eyes, rolling his shoulders as he leans against the doorjamb.
“Don’t thank me, baby,” he says quietly. “Just take care of yourself tonight.”
I inhale shakily, feeling light-headed, but I know I need to quell my rising libido, so I slap my mitten over the light switch, hoping to snap us out of this situation.
But instead of bringing the cabin into a swathe of warm light, the bulb flashes for a moment and then completely cuts out.
That gets our attention.
Jason blinks down at me as my eyes slide back toward the panel on the wall.
“Uh…” I tentatively reach toward the switch with my mitten once again, hovering a millimetre away from it before giving it another slap.
Nothing.
I flip it both ways about ten more times and then my eyes are flying to Jason’s, who is realising exactly the same thing that I am.
“Check the fridge,” he demands, striding into the living room as I race to the kitchen.
We try out as many of the appliances as we can find and, in less than a minute, he’s standing beside me again.
I flick the coffee pot that I’d prepared for him just this morning, and we both watch it in silence as absolutely nothing happens.
Then I shuck off one of my mittens and gnaw nervously on my thumb.
“The power’s out,” I whisper.
His large chest heaves. “Yeah, it is.”