Page 13 of Marked by the Mountain Man

“Understood. But can you do us a solid?” he asks.

I absorb his gorgeous face, guessing what the other half of the conversation sounds like.

“Can you point us to any nearby structures or cabins to shelter in for the night?”

Hudson bandies back and forth about distance and direction from the river and gorge until he ends the call with a satisfied grunt. Turning to me, he says, “We’re within thirty minutes of an old hunting lodge. You think your feet can hold out?”

“Whatever it takes,” I say resolutely. Curving one foot towards myself, I stare at the pulsating, bleeding, dirty sole embedded with little bits of sharp granite.

Hudson eyes the other, grimacing. “You climbed out of the gorge on bloody, cut-up feet? You’re tough as fucking nails.”

“The granite gravel on the trail was sharp. But it had to be done.”

He nods, running his hand over his beard. “I still don’t know how you managed to get to the bank after going over the cliff in the Lincoln. I nearly drowned, and I had a serious headstart and a thorough understanding of the river’s trajectory.

“I used to longboard the Pacific with my dad, which helped. Getting worked by waves, dragged to the bottom by the leash, even cracked on the head by the board taught me a lot about surviving choppy water. Never thought I’d use those skills in Northern Idaho, though.”

“Wait, you surf?”

I nod.

“Me, too. Back in the day, as a Marine stationed in San Diego, that’s all I did in my free time. I’m a shortboard guy, though.”

“I’ll forgive you this once,” I tease.

Kneeling in front of me, he digs a water bottle out of his backpack, gently washing the dirt and granite out of the cuts inmy soles. I hiss and hold my breath, sensation kicking me in the ass with improved circulation. My throbbing calf joins the plaintive party. The disinfectant stings, and I bite the knuckle of my pointer finger. Hudson lets my feet air dry as much as they can, despite the drizzling rain, before bandaging the worst spots.

Then, he removes a pair of wool socks from his bag and puts them on one at a time. “Let’s give this a try. The socks should provide minimal protection. But they’re slippery, so be careful not to twist an ankle. If the pain gets to be too much, don’t grin and bear it in silence.”

“Why not? What can you do about it?”

I catch myself getting lost in the warm, lusty swirls of his green eyes—rugged, virile, and handsome. The juncture between my legs tightens, improved blood flow making me acutely aware of how much my body craves the bearded hunk.

“I’ll carry you,” he says.

I chuckle. Apparently, this guy’s also delusional. “Carry me? I’m no lightweight.”

“I was trained to carry fellow Marines. Leave no man behind. Slinging you over my shoulder would be a piece of cake. My pleasure. Now let’s push through to the cabin before night falls.”

“Is search and rescue coming for us soon?” I ask, pulling my knees against my chest and wrapping my arms around them, reluctant to stand on my aching feet again.

“They’re tied up rescuing people from flash flooding in and around town. So, it’s up to you and me to get through the night.”

“As long as I have you, I’m not worried about anything,” I confess, watching how the words soften his gaze.

Chapter Seven

HUDSON

Darkness shrouds the trail as we approach the hunting cabin, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Despite the leather coat and wool socks, Hadleigh’s not properly dressed for dipping temperatures and drizzling rain. Hopefully, the cabin will have some extra clothes she can bum.

I can’t find a key, scouring the property. No welcome mat. No fake hollowed-out rock. No place to hide anything. I try to pry up a window to no avail

“Dammit! Looks like we’re breaking and entering.”

I scan the area for a rock when shattering glass captures my attention. Looking towards the side of the cabin, Hadleigh smiles nervously. “I decided to get proactive.”

I nod, stroking my beard. Whereas I wanted to break a top window right next to the lock to unlatch it, she destroyed a bottom portion, vastly increasing the odds of unwanted guests visiting. Too late to do anything about it now, though. So, I save my breath.

---