Page 87 of Snowed In with her Mountain Men
Once I realized I was fighting this change, everything fell into place. I embraced it, and the words began flowing again. Entire chapters spilled out, completely unbidden, not even connected to my existing notes. I wrote all morning long, straight through lunch, and deep into the afternoon. It wasn’t until my stomach began growling that I realized just how deeply the shadows had been gathering outside. I stood up for the first time in way too long, and my knees popped savagely.
“Damn.”
I felt exhilarated and accomplished — totally proud of myself. Dancing down the staircase, I zipped to the kitchen and began rifling through the cabinets for a victory snack. And that’s when I saw it, in the field, right outside the window:
A single set of bootprints, punched deep into the snow.
I froze, staring at the long line of alternating holes that extended from the house to the woods, where they disappeared into the trees. They weren’t made by an animal, I knew that immediately. No, these were made by a person.
Without realizing it, the jar of peanut butter slipped from my hand.
Shit.
When I had control again, I reached for my phone. The internet had been spotty all day. I’d gotten a text from Ryder at noon, and before that, Oakley. But right now, as with most of the day, my phone’s reception lay stuck at zero bars. Every time I dialed, I got nothing.
FUCK.
Carefully I made my way to the window and peeked outside. From this angle, I could see the prints ran around thefar side of the house. The disturbed powder around them looked fresh, too. The little lumps were still jagged, and untouched by the wind outside.
I ran to the door, slipped into my boots, and grabbed two things. The first was my coat.
The second was Oakley’s Bushmaster rifle.
For a long moment I considered locking the door and hanging back. But the lock was weak. Theplanwas weak. For months, the men I now loved had been trying to figure out who’d been creeping around the cabin. And finally, at long last, I had the chance to find out for them.
Maybe.
You’re crazy, Camryn.
I looked at the door again, so thick and strong. Only Sarge would bolt it with a piece of shit ten-dollar brass lock, almost as ifdaringsomeone to come try their luck.
No. If someone was out there, I needed to know.Weneeded to know.
Just thinking about my use of the word ‘we’ warmed me up inside.
I cracked the door, checked the driveway, and found it empty of both trucks. Whoever made the prints, it wasn’t one of the guys. It was someone else. Which meant it washim.
As silently as possible, I slipped from the house and into the wind. The cold was so biting it turned my cheeks red almost instantly. For now though, it was bearable. Gluing my back to the cabin’s massive log walls, I crept along the entire front of the house until I’d reached its edge. Then, very slowly, I peeked around the first corner.
A chill ran through me, straight to the bone.
There was a man standing out there.
He was deep in the snow dunes, thigh-high, staring straight back at me. Or at least I think he was. I’d whipped back around the corner so fast, all the air had been forced from my lungs.
Did he see me?
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck…”
My frozen lips formed the words, without my mind’s permission. Being silent no longer mattered anyway. My heart was already pounding away like a kettle drum.
With that in mind, I racked the rifle and clicked the safety off.
Whoever this was, I decided they’d have one chance to surrender. I had no qualms about shooting a repeat intruder, especially one who’d obviously taken advantage of the one time the boys had left me alone.
I took a deep breath, counted to three for no particular reason, then spun — rifle first — to face the side of the house. But the man was no longer there. He’d doubled back and disappeared behind the house, according to his tracks, anyway. And from the scattering of powder across the unblemished snow, I could tell he was moving quickly.
Screw it.
