22. Chapter 22
Chapter twenty-two
Frankie
“ A cabin,” Frankie whispered.
“Out here?”
That’s what Miguel was saying. Probably either a ranger station or a rental nearby. Her eyes widened, and she looked up at Benjamin, who scowled skeptically.
“Yes. There must be,” she blurted at him then turned back to her radio. “Miguel! Where?”
“ Half. Mile. North. ”
“Roger. Leaving. Now.” She reattached the walkie and pulled open a small side pouch to retrieve her compass. She scrambled off Benjamin and nearly whimpered as the cold struck her. Would it be unreasonable to stay huddled up against his warmth? Her hands playing over his smooth skin and solid muscle?
She knew the answer to that.
A half mile. All they had to do was head north for a half mile. It shouldn’t be too hard, especially if the cabin was close to the creek. Sure, she lost her snowshoes as she yard sailed down the embankment, and the professor didn’t have his either, but they didn’t have too far to go. An hour or two at the most, and they’d be out of the elements.
Safe and warm for the night.
Alone .
Together.
One challenge at a time.
On her feet, with the pack settled on her back, she was ready and raring to move out, but a firm grip on her wrist halted her launch.
“Can you please slow down a minute?” Benjamin pulled her closer as he stood.
“No, we have to move.” She shook off his hold and turned. “Get your bag on. You lost your snowshoes too. That’s fine, we’ll go slow and steady.”
“Francesca, stop .”
She scanned Benjamin’s face. His dark, heavy brows furrowed hard over wild, fearful eyes. He breathed heavily in and out of flared nostrils. His full lips—lips she’d kissed earlier that day—pulled tight in a rigid line. Worry radiated off him in palpable waves as he looked around, frantically scanning the valley then back to her face.
His composure hadn’t just slipped—it had bolted.
“Look,” she squared off. “I know this isn’t . . . ideal.”
“Isn’t ideal ?”
“But we have limited daylight. We need to make it to the cabin before things get too dire.”
“I’d say we’re well past dire, Francesca.”
She took another step closer, pressing her chest against his. She settled her bare hand on his cheek and was shocked by how cool his skin was beneath her icy fingers. Priority one was getting him somewhere warm. The cabin would probably have a fireplace or wood-burning stove. Worst case, they’d at least be out of the snow and wind, which whipped around them now like they were doing seventy in a top-down convertible. Either way, the outcome would be better than staying out in the elements overnight without warmth or shelter .
His jaw flexed under her touch, but he took a deep breath anyway. His eyelids relaxed, lowering to half-mast. Reaching up on tiptoes, she leaned into him. She let her warm breath play across his parted lips. Flashes of their fevered kiss from before played on a loop in her mind.
A swift gust of bitter cold pulled at Frankie’s consciousness.
“Benjamin,” she murmured. The ocean depths of his eyes captivated her, and she almost couldn’t speak. Swallowing hard, she continued, “I know it’s scary, but this is our only hope. Trust me?”
He scanned her face, lingering on her lips in good measure, then nodded. “I trust you.”
Frankie longed for the warmth of summer as the increasing snowstorm slammed into her hunched form. Thoughts of tank tops, sun-kissed shoulders, and the smell of SPF lotion flitted through her mind. The farther she walked, the more she curled in on herself. Perhaps the smaller she got, the less heat the blustering wind would be capable of stealing.
She snorted at her own delusion.
“Did you s-say s-s-something?” The wobbly timber of Benjamin’s voice cut through the windy howl.
“You sound like a snake,” she shouted over her shoulder, pressing farther into the headwind.
“What?”
“The cold is m-making your s’s sound s-snakey. Like you should be t-teaching the dark arts or something instead of law.”
“I don’t f-follow. ”
“Forget it.” She had neither the will nor the energy reserve to explain her joke. They’d been slowly dragging through the snow for the past hour, and it felt as though they’d barely made any progress. Everything around them looked the same under the whitewash of flakes.
Boulder.
Boulder.
Tree.
Curve in the creek.
Boulder.
They couldn’t be far. Miguel had said the cabin was a half mile north along the valley, and she doggedly consulted her compass to ensure they didn’t get turned around.
“Not to sound like a five-year-old, but are we almost there?” Benjamin’s teeth chattered as loudly as his words.
“Yes?”
“Your confidence is ins-s-spiring,” he sneered softly.
Frankie stopped and spun around, maybe not swiftly enough to launch the full weight of her frustration, but sufficiently enough to stop him in his tracks. How dare he? Of the two of them, she had far and away more experience in these sorts of situations. It wasn’t her fault that the damned weather was kicking their asses. She thrust the compass at him.
Benjamin held up both hands. “What are you doing?”
“If you have an issue with my navigation, then by all means”—she pushed the disc against his chest—“you lead the way, Columbus .”
One perk of the anger growing in her belly was the illusion of heat it created. Her ears burned—though more likely from the biting cold than actual warmth—and she almost expected smoke to plume from each.
After a beat, he nodded and took the compass from her, brushing past so he could lead the way. Benjamin took a moment to get his bearings and then continued in the direction they’d been moving over the last hellish hour.
Frankie crossed her arms and allowed a smug grin to pull at her lips. Let’s see how well this chump does in these conditions.
“I see something.”
No way.
She pushed with all her remaining strength and overtook his sluggish pace.
“Where?” she demanded, following the direction in which he pointed.
Though barely visible in the whiteout, the shadowy outline of something large enough to be a building stood among a cluster of trees.
“Not too sh-shabby for a newbie, wouldn’t you agree, Miss M-Miller?”
Frankie’s face scrunched from the snow that peppered her sore skin like airsoft pellets. So many retorts came to mind, each telling him exactly where he could go. But all she could do was shrug.
“What are you waiting for?”