Page 33 of Close Protection

The confession, small as it was, shifted the atmosphere between them. Ivy had been pushing for a reaction, seeking cracks in Julia's armor, but now found herself unprepared for the vulnerability she'd exposed.

"Julia—" she began, but was cut off by a sudden, violent gust of wind that rattled the cabin's entire structure. The lights flickered once, twice, then plunged them into darkness.

In the sudden silence of dead power, all Ivy could hear was their breathing and the relentless assault of the storm.

"Perfect timing," Julia muttered, her voice coming from the darkness ahead. "Don't move. Emergency lights are in the kitchen drawer."

Ivy heard rather than saw Julia navigate the space with practiced ease. A moment later, a beam of light cut through the gloom, illuminating Julia's face in sharp relief. The professional mask had slipped back into place, the brief window of honesty already closed.

"Power grid's probably overloaded fromthe storm," Julia said, all business again. "We need to prepare for dropping temperatures. I'll get the fire started."

Just like that, the moment was gone, snuffed out as completely as the electricity. Ivy watched as Julia moved with efficient purpose around the cabin, gathering firewood, checking emergency supplies, and reinforcing the storm shutters. The emotional ground they'd gained disappeared beneath immediate practicalities.

But something had changed. The crack in Julia's armor couldn't be unseen, the confession couldn't be unheard.

Ivy had pushed seeking reaction, not connection. Now, unexpectedly, she had glimpsed both—and found herself wanting more of each.

The cabin grew colder with alarming speed. Without electricity, the heating system had died, leaving only the fireplace as their defense against the mountain chill. Ivy hugged herself, watching her breath form small clouds in the beam of Julia's flashlight.

"I need to check the rest of the cabin," Julia said, handing Ivy a second flashlight. "Can you start gathering blankets?"

The pragmatic request felt like a lifeline after their charged confrontation. Ivy nodded, grateful for a task that required focus beyond their unresolved tension.

She found a stack of wool blankets in a chest at the foot of the bed, their musty smell suggesting they'd been stored since the previous winter. Better than nothing. She carried them back to the main room, where Julia knelt before the fireplace, methodically arranging kindling.

"Anything I can do?" Ivy asked, setting the blankets on the sofa.

Julia didn't look up. "There's newspaper in that basket. I need some to start the fire."

Ivy retrieved it, offering the pages without comment. Their fingers brushed during the exchange, an accidental touch that shouldn't have registered as significantly as it did. Julia's hands were surprisingly warm despite the chill.

"You've done this before," Ivy observed as Julia efficiently built a fire structure that looked far more sophisticated than the haphazard attempts from Ivy's limited camping experiences.

"My grandfather taught me. He believedin practical skills." Julia struck a match, the small flame illuminating her face in warm gold tones before she applied it to the newspaper. "Electronics fail. Fire's reliable."

The kindling caught, flames licking upward through the carefully arranged wood. Within minutes, the fire was casting dancing light across the cabin's main room and emanating the first tentative waves of heat.

"It's still going to get cold tonight," Julia said, rising and brushing her hands on her jeans. "The fire helps, but with no insulation, we'll lose heat quickly."

"So what's the plan?" Ivy asked, already knowing the answer but needing to hear Julia articulate it.

"We'll need to stay close to the fire. Share body heat."

Even in the firelight, Ivy could see Julia's discomfort with the arrangement. Under different circumstances, it might have been amusing—the controlled, professional detective forced into proximity she'd been deliberately avoiding.

"Don't worry," Ivy said, unable to resist. "I promise not to take advantage of the situation."

Julia's gaze snapped to hers, unexpectedly sharp. "This isn't a joke."

"I'm aware. Humor is how some of us cope with stress." Ivy arranged the blankets on the floor before the fireplace, creating a makeshift bed. "Some people compartmentalize. Some people laugh. We all have our mechanisms."

Julia seemed to consider this before nodding once. "Fair enough. I'll secure the perimeter while there's still some daylight."

She disappeared into the darkened parts of the cabin, flashlight beam bouncing as she checked windows and doors. Ivy sat on the blanket nest, watching the fire and listening to the storm's relentless assault. Wind screamed around the cabin's corners, tree branches scraping against the roof. The mountain's isolation, which had initially felt like a tactical advantage, now seemed ominous, a reminder of how completely cut off they were.

When Julia returned, her expression was grim. "The creek behind the cabin is rising. If it floods, we might need to move to higher ground." She checked her watch. "We've got maybe four hours of daylight left.After that, we'll need to conserve flashlight batteries."

Ivy felt a fresh wave of claustrophobia. "Lovely. Trapped, freezing, and potentially facing a flood. Any other good news?"

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