Page 2 of Mountain Man Rescue
“I can walk,” she squeaks out, which is adorable.
“Of course you can.” I tuck her into my chest. “Just not right now. You’ve got adrenaline pumping through your system at the speed of lightning.”
I make my way down the cliff, trying to ignore the way she fits in my arms—like she belongs there.
“Okay,Paul Bunyan,” she glares up at me, “Put. Me. Down. I’m not a damsel in distress. And I’m very heavy.”
I shake my head. “No, you’re not. You’re light as a feather.”
“Liar,” she snorts. “I weigh a ton.”
The wind tries to push us off the trail. I turn, so my back takes it and keep moving. Her fingers fist in my collar when another gust hits, and they stay there even after it passes.
“Are you going to murder me and feed me to your pet pigs?”
“I don’t have pigs.” My mouth quirks without permission. “I have a Siamese cat named Lucky.”
She blinks up at me. “You have a cat named Lucky? I figured you for a Pit Bull or a Rottweiler kinda guy.”
“And I figured you for a sensible shoe-wearing-on-a-mountain kinda gal.”
“They’re comfortable,” she sasses back.
“They’re unsafe,” I retort.
We break the trees, and my log cabin shoulders up out of the snow. Its wide front porch is already wearing a thick white blanket.
I kick the door, shove it open, and carry her into the warmth. The cat lifts his head from the hearth rug, blinks the sleep from his eyes, then sits up straighter than a sergeant meeting a general.
“Yes, Lucky,” I chuckle. “We’ve got company.”
I set Gina on the couch, glad to see color coming back into her cheeks.
“So, Wyatt,” she says, tipping her chin up, “is this where you slap a pair of handcuffs on me and toss me into your basement of torture?”
“You’re safe here,” I reassure her, tucking pillows behind her back. I reach for the zipper on her coat, then think twice. “May I take your coat?” I grab a fur throw from the back of the leather sofa, draping it over her legs.
She shrugs off her coat but keeps it close to her. “Why can’t I get to my car?
I hang my jacket by the door after adding logs to the fire. “There’s no way to get down the mountain right now safely. And with the way this storm’s rolling in, it’ll probably be days before the plows make it up here.”
“Days?” She snaps her brows down tight. “That’s ridiculous.”
“It’s normal ‘round here this time of year. Things are much different for you in the city, though, aren’t they?” I walk into the kitchen.
“Who says I live in the city?” Gina hugs.
“Those shoes say a lot. You don’t have a pack, which means you don’t have water or other essentials. You’re a city girl. The question is which one?”
She looks flustered, then tucks her arms under the blanket. “I’m from Pasadena.”
“That’s a long way from Whispered Echoes, Montana. What brings you here?” I look out the window into the swirling white. We made it home just in the nick of time. Well, my home, not hers.
“I’m traveling.”
“I see. Is there someone you need to let know that you’re safe? We’re going to lose the internet shortly, if we haven’t already.”
“No one,” she stares at the fire.
