What was I thinking? Coming up here was a stupid risk to take.
If Rose got sick or hurt, he’d never forgive himself.
27
Rose had never been so cold in her life, not even when she’d had to sleep in her car on the streets of New York that first night when she’d run from Janek. She was the bowling pin, and the wind was the ball rolling down the lane to sweep her off her feet.
One more step.
She leaned to one side and lifted her foot out of the snow before putting it in front of her.
Another step.
Take another one.
Every step is one closer to shelter.
She was starting to think they should have stayed in the shed with the horses. Like a penguin, she slowly made progress, getting closer and closer to where safety beckoned. “Shit,” she screeched and jerked away, dropping the wood she carried when someone pulled on her coat from behind. She shot a look over her shoulder as she scrambled away from the touch. It took a couple of heartbeats for recognition to push past the panic.
Caleb. It’s Caleb.
His mouth moved as if he was talking. She couldn’t make out his words but followed his arm as he pointed.
Crap, was I going the wrong way?
She nodded; he wanted her to go that way. She’d go that way. But first she had to get the wood she’d dropped. She bent down and picked up one log, crawling on her knees to the next one. Before she reached it, she was hauled back to her feet and pushed forward. Too cold to argue, she did as he wanted and trudged toward the cabin.
His hand on her hip kept her from faceplanting on the stoop. Caleb reached around her for the latch on the door, opened it, and pushed her through it in front of him.
Rose’s teeth chattered. Darkness enclosed them when he slammed the door shut. The quietness now that the wind had been shut outside was loud.
“One sec.” Caleb’s mutter was followed swiftly by the flashlight on his phone. He reached around her, and a few seconds later a battery-powered lantern lit the room. “I’ll light the stove.”
She stood where she was, shellshocked at how they’d gone from a picnic at the hot spring to the midst of a snowstorm in the space of an hour. Caleb crouched in front of a potbellied stove in the corner of the small one-room cabin. Two sets of bunks lined the walls, and a small table and four chairs filled the center of the room.
Caleb opened the door of the stove, showing a fire laid in place, just waiting to be lit. “Thank God.” It took him three tries to light a match. He cupped one hand around it, and finally, the kindling caught. “Come over here and stand in front of the stove. I’ll check what supplies we have.”
She nodded, her teeth chattering with each movement as she did as he asked. “It’s cold.”
“Welcome to Montana.” He brushed the back of his knuckles down her cheek. “This place is small enough to warm up fast.” He took her hands in his and held them toward the fire. “Take all the heat you can get.”
“Thank you.”
He gave her a lopsided smile and turned toward the bunks. Confused, she watched him kneel on the floor and reach under the bottom bed. He tugged one plastic storage bin from under the bed, and then another.
Boxes make sense. They wouldn’t want to have mice get into everything.
She flexed her fingers, ignoring the ache as they thawed out. “Can I help?” He shouldn’t have to do everything for her. City girl or not, she had big girl panties, and she knew how to wear them if necessary.
“There’s some sweats and stuff.” Caleb gathered an armful of clothing from the boxes. “They’re probably too big, but they are dry.”
She didn’t care how big they were. Anything was better than being soaked to the bone. Her fingers fumbled as she worked the button on the collar of her coat free. “I can roll them up.” She moved back from the fire, unzipped her coat, and dropped it on the floor behind her. She made fast work of stripping, and pulled on the sweatshirt before reaching for the pants. Any other time, she’d have been tempted to watch Caleb as he stripped off his jeans and boxershorts. Instead, she focused on shaking out the sweats and stepping into them without falling and landing on her butt.
Because he had to dig through the tote to search for a sweatshirt which would fit his large shoulders, she was faster at getting dressed than Caleb was.
“Catch.”
She fumbled the socks he tossed her way, but managed to catch them before they landed on the stove. Burnt socks wouldn’t be helpful.
