Page 18 of Stuck with My Bossy Protector

“And we’re warm, juicy snacks.”

She picks up her camera bag and throws it over her shoulder. “How far off our path do you think we are after running from the grizzly?”

I grimace because I know she’s not going to like the answer. “I don’t know, but I think it’s better if we get out of the trees. I need to get my bearings again.”

She nods. “Okay.”

She puts on her gloves, and we walk out of the trees. That’s when I get a good look at the sky. “Shit.”

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“It looks like we might get another storm.”

“No!”

I can hear the horror and fear in her voice. I feel the same way. The situation is dire. We are looking at death. She’s been around the world enough to understand exactly what we’re facing. If that storm moves in, we’ll die of exposure. I know where the airstrip is. But I can’t quite place the cabin I’m supposed to get her to. I imagine it’s nestled in the trees, which is great for privacy, but it means I’ve never actually seen it.

“Just a second,” I tell her, stopping and taking a couple of deep breaths.

I turn around, trying to get my bearings. I close my eyes and focus, combining what I know from my flyovers with what I see on the ground. My life depends on me figuring this out. When I open my eyes again, I know which way to go.

“Are you okay?” Mia asks.

I force a smile. “For now. We need to go that way.”

We start toward the cabin. Every once in a while, I shout out to keep the bears and whatever else might be lurking at bay. I hitch up my bag and keep breaking a path through the snow.

“I wish I would have brought my bear spray,” Mia says, slightly out of breath.

I chuckle. “Trust me, that’s not going to do much against a grizz.”

“But it would make me feel better,” she mutters.

I laugh. It’s a tight, humorless sound that does nothing to ease the tension between us.

“Would it really?” I ask, glancing over at her.

“Yes.”

“Let’s just get to the cabin,” I tell her. “I know it sucks out here. You’re cold. I am, too. We just have to keep pushing on.”

“Noah,” she says, her voice small and full of fear.

I stop and look around, searching for the new threat.

“I’m not just cold. I’m freezing. My fingers...I think I might have frostbite.”

Her voice is matter-of-fact, starkly contrasting the fear I can see in her eyes. This fear is more than just the cold. It’s about the situation we’re in—lost in an unfamiliar landscape with no certain path to safety. We’re putting all our hope into a cabin that may or may not be close.

“All right,” I say with a nod. I’m surprised at how calm my voice sounds. I’m anything but calm. I know how fast hypothermia can set in and what it means. “Let’s take a look.”

She peels off her gloves and holds out her fingers. They’re a mottled mix of pale skin and patches of angry red. I take her hands into mine, grimacing at the icy feel of her skin.

“Crap,” I curse under my breath, examining her fingers as gently as I can. It’s worse than I thought. The tips are turning blue.

She flinches and tries to pull away, but I keep a firm hold on her hands. “We have to do something,” she whispers, a note of panic creeping into her voice.

I don’t answer immediately, focusing on massaging some warmth back into her fingers. “We can’t take the chance of not reaching the cabin in time,” I say, my voice gruff with concern. “We need to make a temporary shelter and get a fire going. Fast.”

---