That’s a bad sign.
A bad, bad sign.
“Damn it,” I mutter and rub my nose. If the map is right, I’m less than a mile from the chalet. Of course, it’s closed for the season, so I can’t take shelter there.
“The glacier is another couple of miles after that,” I continue, just before the wind picks up and slaps me in the face with its cold, bitter hand. “Shit. I have to go back.”
I turn, look at the trail that leads down, and scowl. The snow is falling so thickly now, I can’t even make out the path. I know to walk downhill, but it’ll be hard to move quickly if I can’t see the damn route.
If I keep going to the chalet, I could hunker down against the outside of the building, but if it continues to snow—and gets colder—I could freeze.
“Maybe I can break out a window and slip inside.”
I chew on my lip. I have to make up my mind, or I’ll freeze to death right here, and then I will end up as bear food.
That’s not a pleasant thought.
“You didn’t listen.”
I spin at the voice and goggle as Seth moves quickly up the path and through the snow.
“Are you a hallucination?”
“No, damn it. I told you we’d get snow.”
“It’s September,” I reply, suddenly feeling immense relief that he’s here. My knees threaten to buckle, and I want to cry.
“No time to argue,” he says. “Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Good. Let’s go.”
Seth takes my hand and leads me up the path, away from the direction of my van. The pace is brutally fast, the wind merciless against my face, but I keep up with him, running on the trail that he seems to know so well.
At last, through the thick veil of snow, I see the outline of a huge building.
“We’re going in!” Seth yells back at me and leads me to a door. He fiddles with some keys, and the next thing I know, he pulls me into the shelter and slams the door behind us.
It’s dark inside because the place has been closed up for the winter, but Seth has a flashlight.
“There’s no electricity,” he says, his voice sharp in the cold room. “No water services. But we’re not in the snow.”
“How did you find me?”
He turns those dark eyes on me. He looks so mad.
“I was patrolling the area and saw your van at the trailhead. I remembered that you said you were coming up here to hike, and I knew this storm was moving in and that you’d get caught in it, so I hiked up to get you.”
“You hiked almost seven miles just to warn me about the storm?”
He blinks at me and then shakes his head. “No, I hiked almost seven miles to freaking get you out of this storm so you don’t freeze to death, Remi. Which is exactly what was about to happen. Now, we’d better get a move on lighting a fire and getting some heat in here, or we’ll meet the same fate. And I’ll be damned if I go out like that.”
The room we’re in is a big, open space with tables and chairs set up restaurant-style. There’s also a desk—I assume for visitors checking in. A huge fireplace takes up most of the far wall, where Seth is currently stacking firewood.
“I have a starter,” I announce and pull my pack off my back. “I brought one with me, just in case.”
He merely holds out his hand, and I pass the tool over, watching as Seth expertly lights the fire. With the flames to light the room, he switches off the flashlight to conserve its battery life.
For the first time since I saw that first flake, I take a long, deep breath.
“Thank you,” I say at last.
“Do you always brush off the experts when they give you advice?” he asks and folds his arms over his chest.
“Honestly, I didn’t think there was any way it would snow. It seems early in the season.”
“Are you an expert on Montana, then?”
I feel my cheeks heat and turn away from him. “Look, I get it. I’m an asshole. I should have listened. And because I didn’t, I almost killed myself and put you in danger, too. I’m sorry, okay? I feel foolish and irresponsible, and I’m never those things when it comes to adventuring.”
He blows out a breath, pushes his hands through his hair, and licks his lips.
“Okay. Okay, I hear you. The storm is supposed to hang around for about twelve hours. We have to settle in and ride it out here. I was able to radio to the office and let the rangers there know that I was headed up here to help you. I told them I’d bring you up to the chalet and that we’d wait here until the storm passes.”
“So, no one is going to panic when you don’t get back today?”
“No.” He takes his pack off his back and sets it next to mine. “I don’t have much in here for food. I do have some water, though.”
“I have some water and a few snacks,” I reply. “You don’t think there’s any canned food stashed away here, left over from the summer, do you?”
“I doubt it, but we’ll look. They don’t usually leave stuff up here because of the wildlife. There are bedrooms upstairs with lots of blankets and pillows, though. I suggest we gather some and bring them down here in front of the fire.”
“Good idea. You’re really good at this survivalist stuff.”
“It’s my job,” he reminds me. “If you want to stay here by the fire, I can manage with the blankets and stuff.”
“I can help.”
He’s so damn good-looking. I thought maybe my brain had done some fine-tuning and made my memory of him hotter than he really is. But no. He’s just hot. He’s ridiculously tall, well over six feet, and has dark brown hair, brown eyes, and sun-kissed skin. He’s bundled up in cold weather gear but takes off his puffy jacket and loops it around me.
“It’ll be cold up there,” he says softly as I push my arms into the coat and soak in his warmth. “Bundle up in this for now.”
“Thanks.” I offer him a smile, and his eyes flick down to my lips before he pulls away and leads me, with the help of his flashlight and the one I found in my pack, to the staircase. I can see my breath as we climb, and he opens the first door we come to.
There’s a simple queen-sized bed. Blankets and a quilt are folded and lying on the simple mattress, covered in plastic.
I grab the blankets and pillows, plastic and all, and hurry down to set them in front of the fire, then hurry back up for more.
“You take these, and I’ll be right down,” Seth says, passing me more linens. I turn and immediately follow directions. My fingers and toes are damn cold, and I’d like to huddle by the fire to warm up.
Once I reach the fireplace, I turn back to the stairs and see Seth coming down with a mattress on his broad back.
“Holy shit, Seth.”
“This will be more comfortable,” he says and drops the mattress about six feet from the fire. “Better than a hard floor, anyway.”
Before I can say anything, he marches away again and grabs a couple of chairs, bringing them to our makeshift living room before setting them down.
“In case you don’t want to sit on the floor,” he says and then hurries off once more. I scurry along after him, wondering where he’s going.