Page 21 of A Mountain Man Christmas

They wandered through the remains of the village. She had to admit that there was something eerie about walking through a place where so much death and destruction had occurred. A gust of cold wind swept past her, causing her to shiver. She glanced around. There was little to see besides collapsed buildings in different stages of ruin.

“Keep your eyes open,” Tristan advised. “If we are lucky, there should be someplace habitable enough for us to spend the night around here, and—”

“Whoa.”

He blinked. “Did you find something?”

“I guess you could say so,” she replied, leading the way toward a small pile. Between the snow and debris, it was hard to make out much, but some shrapnel caught her eye, aglow in the sunset. Taking off a glove, she reached out and picked it up.

“Be careful,” Tristan warned. “It looks sharp.”

It was a small piece of metal, thinner than her index finger, and twisted out of shape. Lyla guessed it had come from some kind of weapon. The metal had been worn away by rust, but it felt icy and solid in her hand. Solid enough for what she had in mind.

“I’ve got an idea,” she said, lifting her cuffed hand and slipping the metal piece through the keyhole.

“What are you doing?” Tristan wanted to know.

“Picking the lock. I might not have a key, but maybe if I’m lucky…”

He eyed her with a raised brow, and she could tell what he was thinking:Where the heck did she learn how to pick a lock?

Lyla didn’t think it was much of a big deal. It was the sort of skill you were bound to pick up while you were hunting criminals across the country.

“Be careful,” he said again.

She rolled her eyes heavenward. “You say it like I’m going to—Ow! It’s just a small cut.”

Ignoring the slight sting on her finger, she continued to work at the lock, wiggling the metal piece this way and that until she heard the click she’d been listening for. The bracelet fell from her wrist, dangling from Tristan’s arm.

“Yes!” She breathed a sigh of relief. She turned to Tristan, who was staring, open-mouthed at her, and began working away at his bracelet.

Click!The handcuffs dropped onto the snow between them.

“I…I’m free,” he said.

“We’re both free,” she corrected. “And you’re welcome.”

Not that she needed him to thank her. The look on his face was enough. His eyes were wide with surprise, wonder, and…was that admiration?

Before she could figure it out, the look was gone, replaced with an all-too-familiar scowl.

“Let me see that,” he said, taking her hand in his to examine her cut finger.

A jolt raced up Lyla’s arm like she’d been electrocuted. Without really thinking, she yanked it out of his grasp. “I’m fine. I can take care of myself.”

She stuck her finger defiantly into her mouth. Tristan suddenly looked like an exasperated parent; his forehead marked with lines of worry and frustration. “Allow me to help you.”

“I don’t need your help,” she insisted. “Like I said, I can handle myself.”

The scowl deepened. “Well, you’re no longer bound to me. You’re free to leave if you want to. Take care of yourself.”

Was that a taunt? Lyla decided not to let her annoyance get the best of her. “I’m not going anywhere. I already told you I’m not leaving you until I find out the truth about you.”

She might have been imagining it, but she was pretty sure she saw his lips twitch.

Don’t make me wipe that smile off your face, Buster.

She could think of several interesting ways to do that.

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