Mountain Soldier (Tinsel & Timber #8)

Chapter 1

CELESTE

I gun the engine desperately, whispering a quiet prayer under my breath as there's no response.

The sun went down an hour ago, the temperature dropped as the wind ramped up, and I'm surrounded by flurries of white that make it impossible to see what is waiting outside the very limited range of my headlights.

Lights that are rapidly getting dimmer with each second that passes.

Panic threatens to overwhelm me, my throat growing tight and the tell-tale increase in my heart rate that promises this attack could be a bad one.

And frankly, I don't have time to deal with that on top of the very real problem in front of me.

A dead car on a barely used road through the mountain that I'm pretty sure only locals know about.

Locals who are all smart enough to not be out in this kind of weather. Especially on Christmas Eve.

Visions of a warm fire, a table full of food and stockings on the mantle greet me when I close my eyes. A silent countdown of each deep breath I take forces my racing heart to slow until my pulse is no longer pounding in my ears.

Think. That's all I have to do right now. I'm capable. I can find a solution.

The mantra I've created for myself is nothing new.

It's become a comfortable companion, kind of like an old, cozy sweater.

One that is always waiting and warm, ready to be tugged on as soon as you walk in the door, but you'd never wear out in public.

You'd never want other people to know you need something so much.

Now that I can breathe normally again, I take stock of what I have available.

Granola bars in my giant purse. Two, to be exact.

Both pumpkin spice flavored. A blanket in my trunk and an extra sweatshirt sitting on the floor of my backseat.

The bottle of water, half gone, that I'd been sipping from as I drove.

Not to mention all the presents I'd loaded up hours earlier. Presents that need to be delivered tonight. A promise I can't break.

There's my phone, of course, but a quick glance at it confirms what I already suspected. No signal. And the chancy battery is barely charged, even though I'd plugged it in when I stopped for gas. Gas and directions that ended with me stuck on a mountain road in a blizzard.

I groan and drop my head to the steering wheel, rubbing my cold hands together to warm them up.

My gloves are old, worn thin, and even my winter coat isn't the kind made for these conditions.

It's meant for someone who runs from one building to another.

Not someone who goes hiking for miles through heavy snow.

Two more deep breaths and I try to start my car one final time. There's nothing. No click of the starter, not even a gurgle of hope as I push on the gas pedal.

That's when my headlights die and everything around me goes dark.