“Put your hands here,” I tell her, adjusting the vents to blow directly on her fingers. “It'll sting when they warm up.”
“I'm f-fine.” But she places her hands where I showed her, wincing.
“You’re not fine. You’re freezing.”
Her eyes shift, guarded. Not fear exactly, but caution. The kind of caution any woman should feel when she’s alone on a mountain with a stranger who could bench-press her without breaking a sweat.
She lifts a hand, trying to put some space between us. “I don’t know you. Why were you out here in the storm?”
“I help check the roads when the weather gets bad, in case anyone gets stuck. I’m a part-time ranger.” I reach inside my jacket and show her my ID, and her tense shoulders relax a little.
“I guess we can’t get back to town?”
“No, the roads will be blocked by now. I’m taking us to shelter.” I expect her to protest, but she nods, rubbing her handstogether. I navigate the truck around her rental, careful on the ice.
“Is your ankle hurt?” She was limping before I picked her up.
“Just twisted. It's nothing.”
Everything's “nothing” and “fine” with her, even though she nearly died trying to get a photo.
She pulls a phone from her pocket. “The battery’s dead. I was going to call for help.”
“Wouldn't matter anyway. No signal up on this part of the road.” I glance at her as I navigate a switchback. She looks lost. Young too. Can't be more than twenty-five. “You got people expecting you?”
“My boss. She'll be furious. This assignment meanseverything.”
“Family?”
“My parents are in Portugal. They don't expect me for the holidays. I usually work through Christmas anyway.”
“Is that why you don't know how to read mountain weather? Too many Christmases in an office?”
She bristles, shooting me a glance. Good. Anger's better than shock. “I know how to read weather apps.”
“Weather apps!” I can't help snorting.
She shakes her head. “Some old guy called Carl gave me a warning before I came up here. You sound like him.”
I turn onto my private road, the truck handling the steep grade easily. “Carl is never wrong about a big storm.”
“Look, I had to get the shots that could get me promoted to Creative Director. I’d be the youngest in the agency's history.”
“And that's worth freezing to death for?”
“I wasn't going to die.”
“You were ten miles from town in a blizzard with no phone, no supplies, and boots that can't handle the ice. If I hadn't arrived, they'd have found you in spring.”
Her face pales at that. I didn't mean to scare her.
“I'm glad you came along. Thank you.”
I glance over at her again. Wavy auburn hair falling out of what was probably once a perfect bun. Big ice-blue eyes, full lips, and a sprinkling of freckles on her nose. She's gorgeous.
“Let's get you inside.”
I carry her again, ignoring her protests that she’sfine.
