Often, people struggled at this altitude, but he moved with the confidence of someone who belonged in these mountains. His dark eyes reflected the same concern she felt as he navigated the patchy snow and muddy sections of the trail with sure-footed grace.
When a particularly steep section caused her to stumble on a hidden patch of ice, Nick’s hand shot out to steady her elbow, preventing what could have been a nasty fall.
As his hand closed around her arm, heat sparked through the cold fabric—unwelcome, unexpected. It was the kind of thing she shouldn’t be feeling, not here, not now. And certainly not with him.
“Careful,” he said, his grip firm and warm even through her jacket sleeve. “Trail’s getting treacherous.”
“Thanks.” The word came out breathier than she intended. For a moment, caught in his captivating gaze, Gina felt something flutter in her chest that had nothing to do with altitude or exertion.
Then reality crashed back. Brooke had mentioned her cousin was recently out of a long-term relationship, currently between jobs, and had been crashing on various couches for the past year while he “figured things out.”
Everything her hard-learned experiences taught her was to avoid.
She’d been the responsible one since her parents’ divorce when she was twelve, taking care of her mother through depression, alcoholism, and a series of bad decisions. She’d learned early that relying on people—especially people who couldn’t even get their own lives together—was a recipe for disappointment.
“What do you think?” she asked him, pulling back slightly and refocusing on the immediate problem. At least he seemed to have good judgment about the weather, even if his personal life was a mess and his cousin had a one-track mind.
“I think the forecast said afternoon storms, and it’s midmorning.” He lifted a hand toward the approaching wall of weather. “Someone got it wrong.” His voice dropped lower. “Plus, we’re in the thick of bear territory here. If this weathercomes in hard and visibility drops, we could walk right into something we don’t want to meet.”
“Let’s keep talking,” she suggested. “Make sure anything out here can hear us.”
He raised his voice. “We’re going to need to talk louder with the way the wind is picking up.”
“Point taken,” she replied at full volume.
Another snowflake, then three more, hit her face. The temperature had dropped at least ten degrees since they’d started the run from Bearwater earlier.
They’d left home at dawn, driven over two hours on increasingly rough roads, all for what was supposed to be a routine training run on a nice spring day. Or as nice as they could expect at this elevation before the weather truly turned to spring. The calendar might say one thing, but Wyoming weather had a mind of its own.
It snowed not long ago. Patches still remained in shaded areas, which made the footing iffy in places, and fresh snow would make the trail downright dangerous.
“Joe!” Gina called back. “How you holding up?”
“Fine,” came the breathless reply, though he was clearly struggling. He’d just skidded across another icy patch, arms windmilling for balance.
Joe Monroe had only been with the group for a month. A recent transplant from somewhere on the West Coast, he’d joined the running club to get in shape. Every run, even the easy ones through the streets of Irma, Wyoming, seemed to hit him harder than it should. Still, he kept pushing through with a determination that sometimes edged into recklessness.
“We should stick together,” Nick suggested, his tone carefully diplomatic. “Keep the group tighter. Trail conditions are getting sketchy.”
Gina appreciated that he wasn’t directly challenging Brooke’s leadership of the run, but his message was clear: spreading out in these conditions was risky, and spreading out in bear country during a storm was potentially deadly. Maybe Brooke’s cousin had more sense than his current life situation suggested.
“Brooke!” she called ahead. “Group up!”
Her friend waved without turning around, maintaining her brutal pace. Whatever was driving Brooke’s need to complete this specific run went beyond normal training obsession. There was desperation in the way she attacked the climb, checked her GPS obsessively, muttered calculations about distance and elevation gain.
The wind gusted again, stronger this time, carrying the sharp bite of serious weather. It also carried something else—the rich, musky scent of the Sagebrush River and the darker undertones of the forest awakening from winter. Too bad the weather didn’t get the memo.
Gina had run in Wyoming mountains long enough to read the signs, and everything about this approaching storm screamed trouble.
“Kelsey, talk to me about your gear,” Gina said, falling into step beside her. “Emergency stuff.”
“I brought what you told me to bring.” She gestured at her pack.
“And that is?”
“Emergency blanket, first aid, some food.” Kelsey seemed distracted, nervous about something. “As I said, exactly what you told me to bring. Why?”
“Because if this storm dumps what I think it’s going to dump, we might be making some decisions about shelter.”
