Mountain Man Valentine’s Surprise (Date Night In The Mountains #1)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

SADIE

The snow is beautiful for exactly three more minutes.

Then my phone dies, and beautiful becomes terrifying.

I stop hiking, staring at the black screen like it personally betrayed me. Which it did. The GPS app was supposed to guide me back to the trailhead, back to my rental car, back to the cozy Airbnb in Whisper Vale where I have hot cocoa and a space heater and zero chance of dying alone on a mountain.

"Come on, come on, come on." I jab the power button. Nothing. The cold must have drained the battery. Dang it. I would’ve known that was possible if I'd bothered to research winter hiking in Nevada instead of just driving up here on a whim because my ex posted engagement photos and I needed content that screamed "I'm thriving without you, Derek. "

Anti-Valentine's adventure content. That was the plan. Show my five hundred thousand followers that being single on February fourteenth doesn't mean sitting home crying into ice cream. It means conquering mountains! Embracing solitude! Finding yourself in nature!

Except I can't find myself. I can't find anything. The trail markers I was following have disappeared under fresh powder, and the snow is falling harder now, thick flakes that stick to my eyelashes and blur the world into white.

Okay. Don't panic. I'm a professional outdoor content creator. I've hiked dozens of trails. Granted, most of them were in Southern California where the biggest danger was dehydration and influencer photographers hogging the good angles, but still. I have skills.

I pull out my emergency kit, the one I bought specifically for this trip because I'm responsible and prepared and definitely not the kind of person who gets lost in blizzards. Compass. Check. Emergency blanket. Check. Protein bars. Check. Lighter. Check.

What I don't have: any idea which direction leads to safety.

The compass tells me north is north, which is super helpful when I don't know if I need to go north or south or east or west. I came from... somewhere. The trail curved a lot. There was a creek at some point, maybe?

Snow crunches under my boots as I turn in a slow circle, searching for anything familiar. Trees. More trees. Snow. A rock that looks exactly like every other rock. The wind picks up, cutting through my jacket like it's made of tissue paper instead of three hundred dollars worth of technical fabric.

My fingers are going numb. That's probably bad.

"Hello?" My voice disappears into the white void. "Is anyone out there?"

Nothing. Just wind and snow and the growing certainty that I made a terrible mistake.

I start walking. East feels right. Or at least, eastish.

The compass needle trembles as I stumble through knee-deep powder, my breath coming in sharp gasps that fog the air and freeze on my scarf.

The light is fading. I didn't realize how late it got while I was filming, too focused on getting the perfect shot of the valley below, the mountains stretching into the distance, the "single and thriving" caption I was composing in my head.

Stupid. So stupid.

The snow swallows my footsteps almost as fast as I make them. If I'm walking in circles, I won't even know. I could be heading deeper into the wilderness right now, further from roads and people and any hope of rescue.

My boot catches on something buried beneath the snow, and I go down hard. The cold slaps my face, snow shoving up my sleeves, and for a second I just lie there, breathing, trying not to cry because the tears will freeze on my cheeks.

Get up. Get up, Sadie.

I push myself to my knees, then my feet. My left ankle protests, a sharp twinge that makes me hiss through my teeth. Not broken, I don't think. Maybe twisted. I can walk on it, barely, if I keep most of my weight on my right leg.

Perfect. Just perfect.

The wind howls like it's laughing at me.

I limp forward, one painful step at a time, the emergency blanket wrapped around my shoulders now because my jacket isn't cutting it anymore.

The silver material crinkles with every movement, probably scaring off any wildlife that might help me, like a friendly bear who knows the way to town.

Do they have bears here? I should have researched that too.

The light dies completely sometime in the next hour.

Or maybe ten minutes. I've lost all sense of time, my world narrowed to the next step, the next breath, the burning in my lungs and the ice forming on my eyelashes.

My thoughts are getting fuzzy, which is probably the hypothermia setting in, and I know I should be more worried about that but mostly I'm just tired.

So tired.

A shape materializes in the snow ahead. Dark against the white. Big. Human sized, maybe, or bear sized, or tree sized. I can't tell anymore. My eyes aren't working right.

"Help." The word comes out cracked, barely audible. I try again, louder. "Help me. Please."

The shape doesn't move.

Okay. Probably a tree. I change course slightly, aiming for it, because even a tree would provide some shelter from the wind. I can hunker down, wait out the worst of the storm, hope someone finds me before I freeze to death.

My ankle gives out three feet from the dark shape, and I crash into the snow for the second time.

This time, I don't get up. Can't get up.

My muscles have stopped listening to my brain, and the cold has seeped so deep it feels almost warm now, which I remember from some survival show means I'm dying.

"No." I crawl forward on my elbows, dragging myself through the powder. "Not dying in the snow. I refuse. I have content to post."

My hand touches something solid. Not a tree. A boot. An actual human boot attached to an actual human leg.

I look up.

The man staring down at me looks like he walked out of a survival show himself, or maybe a lumberjack calendar, or possibly my fever dreams. Tall.

Built. A beard covering the lower half of his face, dark hair escaping from a wool cap, and eyes that are the pale gray of the storm itself.

He's wearing layers of weathered outdoor gear, carrying a rifle over one shoulder, and his expression is absolutely blank.

"Hi," I manage through chattering teeth. "I'm lost."

He doesn't say anything. Just looks at me, sprawled in the snow at his feet like a half frozen offering from the blizzard gods.

"My phone died. And I can't find the trail. And I think my ankle might be twisted. And I'm pretty sure I'm dying but I'd really rather not."

Still nothing. Not even a blink.

"Are you... do you speak English? Hablas espanol? I only know like twelve words of Spanish but I'm willing to try if—"

He bends down and picks me up.

Just like that. One arm under my knees, one arm behind my back, and suddenly I'm pressed against a chest that feels like a furnace through all my layers. I make an embarrassing sound that's half gasp and half whimper, and his arms tighten fractionally before he starts walking.

"Oh. Okay. We're doing this. That's fine.

This is fine." I'm babbling, I know I'm babbling, but my brain and my mouth have disconnected from each other and the words just keep coming.

"I'm Sadie, by the way. Sadie Chen. I make outdoor content.

Which is ironic given the current situation, but usually I'm much better at this.

The outdoors, I mean. Not being carried by strange men. That's actually never happened before."

He doesn't respond. Doesn't even look at me. Just carries me through the storm like I weigh nothing, his boots somehow finding solid ground through the drifts that kept tripping me.

"Where are we going? Do you have a car? A cabin? A time machine that can take me back to this morning so I can make better choices?"

Nothing.

"Strong silent type. Got it. That's cool.

I talk enough for two people anyway. Or so I've been told.

Frequently. Often by people who were trying to get me to shut up.

" I curl closer to his warmth, my fingers finding the fabric of his jacket and gripping tight.

"Thank you. For finding me. I know I probably seem like an idiot right now, and honestly I feel like one, but I really didn't mean to get lost. The GPS was working fine and then it wasn't and—"

He makes a sound. Low, rumbling, somewhere between a grunt and a growl. It might mean shut up or you're welcome or I'm going to eat you for dinner. I have no way of knowing.

The snow keeps falling, the wind keeps howling, and my mysterious savior keeps walking.

Time does something weird after that. Stretches and compresses at random intervals. I drift in and out, his heartbeat steady against my ear, his arms never wavering. At some point the trees thin out and I catch a glimpse of a building, a cabin, light glowing warm behind frost covered windows.

He kicks the door open and carries me inside.

The heat hits me like a wall, almost painful after so long in the cold.

I cry out, and his grip shifts, adjusting me against him as he crosses to a massive stone fireplace where a fire crackles and pops.

He sets me down on a leather couch that smells like wood smoke and pine, then steps back and stands there, watching me.

"Thank you," I say again, because I don't know what else to say. "Really. You saved my life."

His eyes move over me, assessing. Taking inventory. His jaw works beneath his beard, and I realize he's younger than I first thought. Maybe mid thirties. Hard to tell with all the mountain man aesthetic going on.

"Your ankle." His voice is rough, like he hasn't used it in a while. Deep. Two words, and I feel them vibrate somewhere in my chest.

"Twisted. I think. It hurts but I can move it."

He kneels in front of the couch, and my breath catches at how big he is, how close.

His hands, huge and scarred and surprisingly gentle, reach for my boot.

He unlaces it slowly, carefully, easing it off in a way that minimizes the pain.

My sock comes next, and then his fingers are probing my ankle, checking the joint, testing the range of motion.

I hiss when he hits a tender spot.

"Not broken." He releases my foot and stands. "Stay."

Like I'm a dog. Like I have anywhere else to go.

He disappears through a doorway, and I hear cabinets opening and closing.

I use the time to look around, cataloging details.

The cabin is rustic but clean. Wooden walls, exposed beams, a kitchen visible through an archway.

Minimal furniture, minimal decoration. A rifle rack on one wall, a bookshelf on another.

No photos. No personal touches. It looks like a space someone survives in, not one they actually live in.

He comes back with an ice pack wrapped in a towel, a mug of something steaming, and a wool blanket that he tosses over my legs before handing me the mug.

"Tea." Another two word sentence. Another rumble of sound that shouldn't be attractive but definitely is.

I wrap my hands around the ceramic and sip. Hot and sweet and medicinal. Not tea like I know tea, but something herbal that warms me from the inside out.

"What's your name?" I ask.

He settles into a chair across from me, massive frame filling the space, and just looks at me for a long moment. Long enough that I start to wonder if he's going to answer at all.

"Wolfe."

"Wolfe," I repeat. It fits him. Sharp edges and watchful eyes and barely contained danger. "That's really your name? Or is it like a mountain man nickname?"

The corner of his mouth twitches. Almost a smile. "Hendrix. Wolfe Hendrix."

"Sadie Chen." I gesture at myself with my mug. "Which I already told you. Twice, probably. I lose track when I'm hypothermic."

He makes that sound again, the grunt-growl, and I'm starting to think it's his version of a complete sentence.

The fire crackles. The wind rattles the windows.

Wolfe Hendrix sits in his chair and watches me like I'm a puzzle he can't figure out, and I sit on his couch wrapped in his blanket drinking his tea and trying very hard not to notice how attractive he is in a rough, terrifying, rescue-me-from-a-blizzard kind of way.

"The storm," I say, because I can't handle silence and he clearly can. "How long will it last?"

He glances toward the window, then back at me. "Days."

"Days?" My voice comes out higher than I intended. "Plural? As in more than one?"

A slight nod.

"So I'm stuck here. With you. For days."

Another nod.

I think about my Airbnb with its hot cocoa and space heater. My rental car that's probably buried under snow by now. My phone, dead and useless in my pocket. All my plans for anti-Valentine's adventure content, blown away by a blizzard that had other ideas.

Derek is going to post more engagement photos, and I won't even be able to hate-scroll through them because I'm trapped in a cabin with a man who speaks in two word sentences and looks at me like he's not sure whether to protect me or throw me back in the snow.

"Days," I repeat, slumping back against the couch. "Okay. That's fine. This is fine."

Wolfe Hendrix doesn't say anything. He just watches me with those storm gray eyes, firelight playing across his face, and I get the strangest feeling that my life just changed in ways I'm not prepared to understand.

But hey. At least I'm not dead.

Small victories.