Page 14 of Stuck with My Bossy Protector

“Yes. Are you guys together?”

She rolls her eyes. “No, we aren’t together. He’s twice my age. He’s a friend. Young women can be friends with men without sleeping with them.”

Clearly, I offended her. “Sorry.”

We start walking again. She’s cranky. I have a feeling that might have a little to do with the fact that she’s cold, hungry, and tired.

“So, how do you plan on setting up a photoshoot?” I tease. “Do you have special lighting and backdrops?”

“Of course, I also do hair and make-up,” she quips.

“I can’t believe you actually want to get up close and personal with wolves. You must have a death wish. Wolves and grizzlies are probably the only two animals I’m truly afraid of.” Then, I correct myself. “Maybe not afraid, but I like to keep a healthy distance between them and me .”

She laughs a genuine sound that cuts through the cold. “It’s not like that. Eric knows the packs around here. We’re careful. It’s about capturing their natural behavior, not getting too close.”

Our conversation trails off. The only noise is the snow crunching beneath our boots. Fresh snow always has a way of absorbing sound. The powder we are kicking up sparkles in the sunshine. I can see trees up ahead. I’m not looking forward to walking through them. It’s easy to lose any sense of direction when all you can see are trees. Fortunately, I think I recognize this grove. It eases my mind to know we are getting nearer to our destination.

“You’re surprisingly well-prepared for this,” I say, glancing at her gear.

“I’ve done my fair share of cold-weather expeditions,” she replies. “You learn quickly what you need to survive. After my first trip to the Yukon, I figured out that good gear was worth the investment.”

“You’ve been in some rough situations before?”

“Yes and no,” she replies. “I’ve endured lots of extreme weather, but I always had a way out. I knew someone would be along to get me to safety. This is a little different.”

“Good to know,” I say, feeling my respect for her grow.

“I’m not totally helpless,” she continues. “I’m just not the kind of person that thrives on trying to survive. I think I could do it, but I’ve never really needed to.”

I chuckle, once again bursting into a coughing fit. “Your work sounds interesting. Exciting.”

“It is,” she says.

She tells me about some of her travels, her voice animated despite the circumstances. She describes following a herd of elephants in the Congo basin, getting permission from the Chinese government to observe pandas near the Yangtze River, and her most recent project, photographing pink river dolphins in the Amazon. She insists she has never been in a survival scenario, but from what I am hearing, roughing it in extreme situations is pretty familiar territory for her. I’m impressed by her dedication and passion. It’s clear she’s not just in this for the money or the fame. She genuinely loves what she does.

The snow is getting deeper, making it even harder to walk. The wind last night created some serious drifts. I can see Mia starting to struggle, but she doesn’t complain. I offer her a hand to help her over a particularly deep drift. She takes it without hesitation. Her grip is strong, and for a moment, I feel a connection that goes beyond the situation we’re in.

“You okay?” I ask as she catches her breath.

“Yeah,” she says, her breath coming in short gasps. “Just...not used to this much snow.”

“Me neither,” I admit. “But we’re getting closer. I can feel it.”

We keep moving, our pace steady but slow. The conversation helps pass the time and distracts us from the cold. Mia talks about her friend Eric and his work with the wolves. She obviously admires him, but her words do not hint at romance—just respect and camaraderie.

“You ever think about doing something else?” I ask. “Something safer?”

She shakes her head. “No. This is what I love. It’s dangerous, but it’s worth it. The world needs to see these animals—understand them. Maybe then they will be better protected.”

I nod, understanding her drive. “I get it. I mean, flying isn’t exactly the safest job either, but it’s what I love. There’s nothing like the freedom of the sky.”

“I need to drink,” she says, her voice weak.

“Let’s take a break. We’ll eat a protein bar and drink some water. We’re expending a lot of calories. The last thing we need is either of us falling or getting too exhausted to move.

“I’m sorry.”

I look at her and see the disappointment in her eyes. “Hey, no. Don’t be sorry. I’m exhausted. I need a rest, too.”

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