Page 10 of Rescued By the Mountain Guide

The first bite floods my mouth with warmth and flavor—nothing fancy, but nourishing and exactly what my cold-ravaged body needs. We eat in silence, the stew warming me from the inside.

Jackson finishes first, setting his bowl aside. "We need to establish some ground rules. We're going to be here at least two days. Possibly three, depending on how the storm plays out."

"Rules?" The word bristles against my independent nature.

"Rule one: Conservation. Water, food, fuel—all limited resources. Nothing gets wasted." He ticks off points on his fingers. "Rule two: Communication. The radio stays cranked. If something happens to me, you need to be able to call for help."

The casual mention of his potential incapacitation sends an unexpected chill through me.

"Rule three: This is a survival situation, not a hotel stay. You do what I say when I say it without argument. This isn't about authority—it's about keeping us both alive."

My natural instinct to challenge authority rises, but reason prevails. He knows this mountain, this shelter, this situation better than I ever could.

"Seems reasonable." I set my empty bowl aside.

Jackson studies me, skepticism evident in his expression. "You sure? You haven't exactly demonstrated a talent for following instructions so far."

The barb hits its mark. "I made one mistake?—"

"A mistake that nearly killed you," he interrupts, voice sharp. "And could still kill both of us if this storm lasts longer than predicted."

The reality of our predicament settles over me like a physical weight. My ankle throbs, a persistent reminder of my vulnerability.

Jackson sighs, running a hand through his snow-dampened hair. In the firelight, exhaustion shows clearly on his face—lines around his eyes and mouth that weren't visible in the harsh daylight. For the first time, I see beyond the mountain man stereotype to the human beneath.

"You should rest." He nods toward the cot. "I'll take the first watch on the fire."

"Watch? As in... taking turns sleeping?" The single narrow cot suddenly looms large in my awareness.

“One bed, two people, sub-zero temperatures outside. You do the math.” His tone is flat, practical, already turning away to arrange logs beside the stove like the conversation’s over.

But it’s not.

Not for me.

Two days. One bed. And him. A man who finds me more nuisance than necessity, whose every word bristles with judgment… and yet whose very presence has my skin tightening beneath layers of fleece.

Jackson moves to check the window, his broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his jacket, the collar framing the powerful line of his neck. Frost creeps across the pane, but I swear it’s warmer in here now—because my body’s suddenly burning.

In the low light, his profile is distractingly perfect. That jaw—sharpened by stubble and attitude. That nose—straight, uncompromising. And his mouth… firm and unsmiling, but shaped with a sculptor’s precision. The kind of mouth that should have no business making my thighs clench just from existing.

But it does.

And now my brain, despite the trauma and pain and freezing cold, is conjuring up images I absolutely do not need. Those lips—on my throat. My shoulder. Lower. His hands pressing me down, anchoring. That mouth taking, claiming, ruining.

Damn it.

He turns slightly, and I jerk my gaze away like I haven’t just mentally undressed the man who dragged me off a mountain. But it’s too late—my pulse is already thundering, my cheeks flushed. Not from the cold.

No, this heat is all Jackson fucking Hart. And I hate that I want more of it.

"Storm's getting worse." His voice cuts through my inappropriate observation. "We made it just in time."

As if punctuating his statement, the wind rises to a shriek, rattling the shelter's walls. A draft snakes across the floor, curling around my injured ankle.

Jackson meets my gaze, something unspoken passing between us. "Get some sleep. Tomorrow won't be any easier."

The cot beckons, my body crying out for rest. But as I rise awkwardly, favoring my good ankle, a new awareness settles over me. This mountain man saved my life despite every reason not to. And now we're bound together in this primitive shelter, dependent on each other for survival.

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