Page 6 of Snowed in with the Mountain Man

My legs burn. The snow is already past my ankles, my fashionable boots soaked through and frozen. I wasn't made for this. Vancouver's idea of a snowstorm is two inches followed by immediate rain.

"How much further?" I call, teeth chattering violently.

He turns back, face barely visible beneath his snow-crusted beard and the headlamp he insisted I wear.

"Quarter mile. Maybe less."

I stumble forward. Aiden's jacket swallows me, sleeves rolled up three times. It smells like him—pine and motor oil.

My phone died ten minutes ago. No help coming.

Focus, Phoebe. Keep. Moving.

My foot catches on something hidden beneath the snow. I pitch forward with a startled cry. Before I can faceplant, strong hands grab my arms, hauling me upright.

"You okay?" Aiden's face is inches from mine, concern etched in the hard lines around his eyes.

"F-fine," I stammer. My feet have gone from burning to numb—bad sign.

He looks down at my pathetic footwear. Without warning, he crouches, back to me.

"Climb on," he orders.

"What? No, I can walk—"

"Your lips are blue. Get on my back or I'll carry you like a sack of feed."

The mental image of being slung over his shoulder makes the decision for me. I awkwardly clamber onto his back. He stands in one fluid motion, hands securing my thighs.

Oh...

His body heat envelops me instantly. The man radiates warmth like a furnace. He adjusts my weight with ease, as if I weigh nothing.

"Hold tight," he says, voice rumbling through his back and into my chest.

I press my frozen face against his shoulder, focusing on the steady rhythm of his breathing, the solid strength of his body moving beneath mine.

Definitely not the circumstances I imagined for being this close to a man again. Especially one who looks like he stepped off the cover of "Rugged Mountain Men Monthly." ??

Wait, did I really just mentally add a fire emoji? I'm delirious from the cold.

"There," he says after what feels like forever. "Look up."

Through the curtain of white, a dark shape materializes. My cabin.

Aiden doesn't set me down until we reach the porch. My legs wobble as they take my weight. He steadies me with one hand while digging through his pack.

"Key?" he asks.

It takes three tries with frozen fingers. He unlocks the door, pushing it open against the weight of snow.

We stumble inside, bringing a swirl of snowflakes with us. The cabin is dark and somehow even colder than I remember. The door slams behind us.

For a moment, we just stand there, panting, covered in snow. Then Aiden springs into action.

"Get those wet boots off," he commands, already unlacing his own. "Socks too."

I comply, fingers fumbling. Everything is numb. My jeans are soaked to the knees.

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