“No, no, no,” Ivy groaned, gripping the steering wheel.
For a moment, panic bubbled up in her chest. She was effectively trapped. The construction site had emptied hours ago, with workers rushing home ahead of the forecasted storm. The trailer was cold and dark. The main road was blocked.
Ivy took three deep, measured breaths, forcing herself to think logically. She could either return to the trailer and spend an uncomfortable night without power or heat, or she could try the old logging path that wound around the northern edge of the property. It wasn’t maintained, but it eventually connected to a forest service road.
“Option two it is,” she decided, carefully turning the SUV around.
The logging path quickly proved more challenging than expected. What had once been a road had degraded into little more than a muddy track, with vegetation reclaiming its edges. Her SUV lurched through a particularly deep puddle, then the wheels began spinning without traction. The vehicle slowed, then stopped, caught in thick mud that had transformed into a grasping quagmire beneath the deluge.
Ivy pressed the accelerator carefully, then with more force, but succeeded only in digging the wheels deeper. She let herforehead rest against the steering wheel for a moment of pure frustration.
“Perfect,” she muttered.
She could shift into her bear form and walk through the storm, but that would mean abandoning her vehicle and leaving her laptop, research materials, and phone behind. While she’d be warm enough in bear form, emerging in town without clothes held little appeal.
The obvious solution sat in her contacts list. Henry’s cabin was somewhere in these woods, not far from the construction site. He would know how to reach her through the back roads, and his vehicle was better equipped for these conditions.
Ivy hesitated, finger hovering over his name. Since the brewery kiss, communication between them had been nonexistent. He hadn’t reached out, and pride had kept her from making first contact. But pride wouldn’t keep her warm or get her out of this mud pit.
She typed quickly before she could reconsider: “Stuck at nature center. Storm knocked out power, tree blocking main road, SUV mired on logging path. Any chance you can help?”
The message sent, and Ivy sat in the dark SUV, listening to rain pounding on the roof and thunder rolling across the mountain. She tried not to watch the screen for his response but failed completely.
Three minutes passed. Five. Ivy began composing mental backup plans involving shifter forms and emergency forest shelters.
Her phone lit up: “Stay put. Coming.”
Two words that shouldn’t have filled her with such relief. Ivy exhaled slowly, tension ebbing from her shoulders. She gathered essential items into her bag, preparing to abandon the SUV when Henry arrived.
Nearly twenty minutes later, headlights cut through the darkness. A mud-splattered truck approached from the narrow forest service road she’d attempted to take. The truck stopped alongside her SUV, its high clearance easily handling the conditions that had defeated her vehicle.
Henry emerged from the driver’s side, immediately drenched as he made his way to her door. Ivy climbed out, messenger bag clutched to her chest.
Their eyes met briefly in the truck’s headlights. The memory of their kiss hung in the rain-soaked air between them, undiscussed but undeniably present. His expression remained unreadable, but concern showed in the tight line of his jaw.
“You shouldn’t have been out in this,” he said gruffly.
“I was working late,” Ivy explained, raising her voice over the storm. “Lost track of time.”
Henry nodded, gesturing toward his truck. “Exit road’s completely blocked. You can stay at my cabin until morning.”
The practical offer contained no hint of emotional undertone, but Ivy’s bear responded with eager recognition nonetheless. She hurried to the passenger side, climbing into the warmth of the cab. Henry joined her, water streaming from his jacket.
“Thank you for coming,” Ivy said as he put the truck in gear. “I didn’t know if you would.”
Henry’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Wouldn’t leave anyone stranded in this weather.”
The impersonal response stung more than it should have. He’d helped her out of obligation, not because of their connection. Ivy turned to look out the window, hiding her expression as Henry maneuvered the truck with surprising agility through unmarked logging roads and forest service access paths she hadn’t even noticed.
“How do you know where you’re going?” she asked after several minutes of tense silence.
“Driven these maintenance roads in worse conditions,” he replied. “Most rangers stick to the main routes. I find that limiting.”
Despite her emotional confusion, Ivy found herself impressed by his skill. The truck crawled over fallen branches and through mud that would have swallowed her SUV entirely. Henry navigated by some inner map that required neither GPS nor clear visibility, occasionally making turns down narrow service roads that were barely distinguishable in the downpour.
Twenty minutes of careful navigation brought them to a small clearing where Henry’s cabin emerged from the mist and rain like an extension of the forest itself. Built from local timber and stone, it blended so perfectly with its surroundings that Ivy might have missed it entirely without the single warm light glowing from a window.
Henry parked close to the covered porch and quickly came around to her side. Together they dashed through the downpour and up the wooden steps. Henry unlocked the door, hesitatingalmost imperceptibly before pushing it open. Ivy recognized the significance—he was allowing her into his private domain.
