“Hold on.” He jumped off and strode through the snow, kicking a decent path to a set of pine trees and around it, making a good-sized area. Then he returned to her. “Just follow the trail, and you’ll be fine.”
She shook her head. “Thanks, but I’m good. Really.”
The cute city girl didn’t want to freeze her butt in the snow. He shouldn’t like that about her. In fact, he shouldn’t be likinganything, yet he had the strangest urge to kiss her. Again. “You sure? We have a while to go, still.”
Her frown darkened. “Fine.” She pushed off the sled, wobbled a bit, and then stomped through his trail and around the trees.
He chuckled as quietly as he could and turned to slough through the snow closer to the river to relieve himself and give her some privacy. He’d been peeing in the snow since he learned to walk, but it probably seemed an odd experience for somebody from the city. Her boots and snow pants wouldn’t make it easy on her, but offering to help didn’t seem gentlemanly. Not that he was a gentleman. But, still.
She was a smart woman. Surely, she’d figure it out.
He waited a few minutes, watching the shocking blue of the melted glacier water flowing over rocks, and then headed back to the sled just as Ophelia emerged from the trees, her face a very pretty pink.
While he’d love to mess with her a little, they had to get moving. “Another storm is moving in, and our window for searching is short. We’re going to head up that hill and over two more, then we’ll be at one of the main fishing holes for Arctic Crick.” He handed her the discarded helmet.
She turned to follow his gesture. “Um. There’s no trail.”
“We’ll make one.” Being gentle and reassuring didn’t come naturally to him, and now wasn’t a good time to learn those attributes. “You need to hold on and move when I do. If you can’t, just hold on, and I’ll move you.” He tilted his head and eyed her long legs. “We’ve ridden for a while. Do you still have strength in your legs to grip tight?” Should he have forced her to stay behind?
She straightened. “Of course.”
Concern licked through him. Nobody had found a sign of Wyatt yet, and time drew short. “All right. We’re going fast, and I may need to stand. If I stand, you crouch, just holding on. Got it?”
“Sure.” Her forced nonchalance belied her slight caution as she straddled the sled.
He reached into his pocket for warmers and cracked them, gently taking off her gloves to place them inside. “If your feet get too cold, let me know when we’re at a good stopping point, and we’ll insert more into your boots.” He tapped down her face guard and settled his helmet into place, flipping his up. “If, for any reason, you panic, hold on tighter. Don’t let go.” That was the biggest risk for a second rider on a hill.
“Got it.”
They’d see about that. He sat, ignited the engine, and turned the sled to aim between two naked-looking cottonwoods. “Hold on, Agent.” Flipping his shield down, he squeezed the throttle and shot forward into the forest.
Ophelia’s thighs ached,her neck tingled, and her hands had chilled, but hill climbing felt freaking amazing. Brock moved with the machine like they were one, and she just softened against him to move with him. They rode straight up powder-covered hills, down along gullies, and then back up another hill, all covered with heavy rocks and different species of fully-grown trees. These were nowhere near as large as the jagged mountain peaks that seemed to surround them on every side, but Brock had to half-lift several times, and she followed, holding his hips tightly.
They reached the top of another hill, rode along the ridge, and then he turned to descend. Below them, a wide valley spread out, bisected by yet another rushing river crusted with ice. This one ran thicker than several of the streams and creeks they’dskirted but not as wide as the main river that extended from town.
Her lungs compressed, making her breathe heavier. They had definitely changed altitudes, and even the snowdrifts stood higher and icier. It had been winter up here for much longer than in town.
Brock wound the snowmobile between thick trees. Every time he ducked, she followed suit. Soon they rode close to the newest river, heading toward the west, and more snow, river, and trees. A loud howl somehow surrounded them. Wolf pack?
She swallowed and slid her arms closer around his torso, holding tightly.
He slowed, found a small gulley beneath some trees, and coasted to a stop.
She tugged up her visor. “We’re here?”
He partially turned, lifting his shield. “We’ll ride along the river and sweep left to follow Arctic Crick. I’ll have to cross the river, so we’ll get a little wet, but I’ll try to find a shallow place.”
She gulped and looked over at the water. “Why not go here? The ice covers it.” The blanket looked solid.
He shook his head. “The sled is heavier than you think. It’ll be another couple of weeks before we can cross the rivers safely around here. For now, just keep an eye out for anything that looks odd or out of place. We found a missing tourist once by spotting his fishing pole leaning against a tree. He lay half-submerged in the river, but it was summer, and he’d managed to keep his head above water, even with a broken leg. You ready?”
“Yes.” Her entire body felt like it had been through a spaghetti strainer, but she held his waist again, already swiveling to look all around them. How could Wyatt have survived the night out here? It must have gotten to at least ten degrees or more below zero the night before. Perhaps she should look for some sort of shelter. That’d be branches over snow, right?
Brock drove along the river across rough ground, and the snowmobile bucked several times. Finally, he tapped her leg in warning before turning sharply and gunning the engine, rushing over river rocks and cracking ice in a narrower part of the river. Water dragged across her boots, and she tightened her hold with her legs, her breath catching in her throat.
Then they reached the other side. He drove away from the river, along a narrow stream, and wove around bare cottonwoods that looked lonely and cold in the wintery landscape.
She blinked against the constant white, trying to see anything out of the ordinary. Brock slowed the sled, driving as close to the stream as possible and scouting the tree line. The entire area appeared untouched by any human for centuries.
