“But your ribs—”
“Amanda, stop arguing. We’ve got to work together, or we aren’t getting back.”
She did as she was told. Amanda could smell Jake on that scarf, leather and wool and warm male as she wrapped it up over her nose and ears. She fought the urge to sink right into his hold like a frightened child seeking her parent during a storm. His arms were so sure and strong, his chest warm against her back. She thought she could feel the steady thud of his heartbeat, but knew it was just wishful thinking. The world around them was disintegrating, but Jake cushioned her like a fragile gift.
“Jake?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you really know what you’re doing?”
“Yeah.”
“So how long is it going to take us to get back?”
Another pause that made Amanda nervous all over again. “Don’t know. I’ve never had to find my way back from the cabin in a blizzard before.”
Amanda lifted her head a little and tried to see through the snow. All she saw was white. No trees, no landmarks, no nothing. Just howling, burning snow. Buck plodded on, setting one foot carefully in front of another, and Jake was wrapped around her. But even so, there was no way for sure to know if they were heading in the right direction, or farther into the snow. And for the first time since she’d stood by a mine shaft with a cluster of other women waiting for news she didn’t want, she was truly afraid.
