Page 5 of Stuck with My Bossy Protector

“What’s the best thing about living here?” I ask.

He thinks for a moment, casting me a sidelong glance before returning his attention to our difficult flight. The plane shakes as it hits more turbulence before Noah manages to even us out.

“The solitude,” he answers.

I huff out a laugh. He doesn’t want to talk, and maybe I’m being a bully, but poking at him is fun.

“You don’t get tired of the snow?”

“There isn’t always snow,” he replies with exasperation.

I laugh again, a little louder this time. “Okay, so you don’t mind months of darkness, sub-zero temperatures, and wildlife that can kill you?”

His focus remains on the swirling storm outside, but he finally answers.

“The darkness isn’t so bad once you get used to it. And the cold keeps out the riffraff.”

“And the wildlife?”

“They keep their distance if you know what you’re doing.”

There’s something about the way he says that last bit that sparks my interest. “You sound like someone who’s had a few encounters.”

“I’ve had my share of run-ins.”

“My job requires me to get up close and personal with all kinds of animals,” I tell him. “Maybe you could give me some tips.”

He glances at me, a hint of interest showing through his stoic facade. “You’re a wildlife photographer?”

“Yes.”

There is a flash of lightning, and the plane jolts violently, throwing me against the window.

“What was that?” I gasp.

Noah once again fights to remain in control of the tiny aircraft as we are swallowed in a furious swirl of white. The wind howls, battering the plane with relentless force. I desperately clutch my camera bag—my lifeline to the outside world. It’s like a talisman that can save me.

He flips several switches, and I can feel the plane drop altitude. “Weren’t you here five minutes ago?” he growls.

“I thought we were out of it! It was fine.”

“No, we were trying to run above it. It didn’t work. This thing is a monster. There is no skirting it, going through it, or even turning back.”

His voice is low and full of anger. Like I somehow conjured up this storm. Like me and Mother Nature are buddies. I look out the window and wonder how he is even flying. I see nothing—nothing but white. I realize he has an instrument panel, but this is ridiculous.

“Don’t be mad at me,” I say defensively. “I didn’t bring on the storm.”

Noah’s voice cuts through the static on the headset. “If we’d left when we were supposed to, this wouldn’t be an issue!”

I wince at the accusation. “I’m sorry! But forty minutes wouldn’t have made a difference! You’re the pilot. If you knew a storm was coming, you shouldn’t have flown! This is as much your fault as it is mine!”

He glances at me, eyes flashing with frustration. “I didn’t know it was coming in this fast or it would get this big! These storms can start small and gain momentum, especially in these parts. I made a call. Now I have to deal with it! And so do you! Maybe you’ll be on time next time you charter a flight!”

The plane lurches again, and my heart leaps into my throat. The snow outside is so thick that I can barely see the wingtips. My mind races, fear gripping every part of me. I can feel the panic rising, threatening to take over.

Noah’s hands fly over the controls. I see him reach for the radio, and his voice stays steady as he relays our coordinates and situation. But the storm is so fierce, and we are miles from civilization, I don’t know how anyone could help us. I see his eyes flash with frustration.

There is no response from the radio.

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