Page 14 of Wild About the Mountain Guide
Marcus and Todd exchange a look. “We can’t be responsible for liability issues if someone in your group gets worse. Our insurance doesn’t cover—”
“Nobody’s asking you to be responsible for anything,” I interrupt, surprising myself with my sharp tone. “We’re only asking to share a public shelter during a rainstorm.”
Harmony appears at my side. “The energy in this space is very hostile. I think these men have some serious chakra blockages.”
I bite my lip to keep from laughing at the look of horror on the mountaineers’ faces.
“Well? Are you moving out of the way or what?” Knox asks.
Marcus continues to block the entrance to the shelter. “Look, I get it. You paid for some kind of wilderness experience package, and now you’re disappointed that nature isn’t cooperating. But this is serious terrain for serious people. We’ve got a weather window to hit, gear to organize, and frankly”—he looks pointedly at Brandon, who’s still sporting mud stains on his rain jacket—“we need to maintain a certain standard of preparation.”
“Standard of preparation?” Knox demands. “You mean, like having enough basic courtesy to share a public facility during a storm?” He doesn’t raise his voice, just calmly asserts himself. And honestly, I’m tempted to high-five him. Or kiss him, but that’s probably not appropriate.
Wait. What? Kiss him?
Before I can start overanalyzing my thoughts, a woman appears in the doorway. She has a lean, weathered look that comes from actual mountain experience, not just expensive gear.
“What’s the holdup?” she asks.
“Just explaining to these folks that we need the space,” Marcus says.
The woman looks past him at Alexandra limping slightly on her ankle, Harmony shivering despite her spiritual connection to the rain, and the rest of us dripping and muddy. Her expression shifts. “There’s room for everyone if we squeeze in tight.”
“Margo, we discussed this. We need to focus on—”
“On not being unkind to people who need shelter,” she cuts him off before turning her attention back to us. “I’m Margo, a mountaineer guide. Sorry about Marcus and Todd here. They get a little intense about maintaining their elite mountaineer image.”
Marcus looks like he’s been slapped in the face. “Margo, our group dynamics—”
“Will survive sharing space with other human beings for a few hours,” she finishes.
“But we don’t have enough supplies to feed—” Todd starts to protest.
“Nobody’s asking you to feed us. We brought our own food, our own gear, and our own courtesy. Though apparently that last one isn’t as common as I thought,” Christine says.
“And we have crystals,” I blurt. No idea why. It just comes out.
Todd squints at me like I’ve grown a second head. Then he gives us a defeated sigh. “Fine. You can come in.”
I turn to Knox and catch him grinning at me. My heart does a little flip-flop. Does his amused smile mean his heart rate also picks up every time he looks at me? Or am I reading too much into this?
“The crystal comment definitely swayed them. You should’ve led with that,” he says.
“I panicked. It was either that or sacrifice my last protein bar,” I whisper. “But it worked. Thank goodness we get to go inside now.”
“After you,” he says, stepping aside just enough to let me pass, but not quite. It’s as if he’s almost forcing me to touch his arm.
Was that on purpose or a happy accident? Either way, no one would ever have to force me to touch his arm. I’d shell out actual money to do it again.
Chapter Six
Knox
I’ve got everyone positioned around the fireplace with their wet gear spread out to dry, trying to ignore the pointed looks from Marcus and his crew. They’ve claimed the far corner like it’s their personal VIP section, huddled over their maps and making a show of discussing theirtechnical route planning. Whatever. People like them only see the outdoors as another way to feel superior, when that’s not what the wilderness experience is about at all.
Meanwhile, my group is sharing granola bars and instant coffee, looking like a litter of drowned cats, but laughing.
Peyton sits cross-legged on her still-wet sleeping pad, writing in her journal even though her hands are shaking from the cold. She keeps glancing up at me when she thinks I’m not looking, and every time, I hold her eyes.
