Page 8 of Rugged Mountain Man
Rubbing my eyes, I sat up and moved the chair aside, emerging from the bedroom. Cormac was already awake—if he’d ever slept at all in the first place—tending to a pot of coffee partially buried in the hot embers of the fireplace.
“Morning, KitKat,” he said. “Coffee is almost ready.”
“You weren’t kidding about that storm,” I replied.
He shook his head.
“It came on hard and fast. The sooner we can get on the road, the better. Otherwise, we’ll be snowed in, and God only knows how long we’ll be stuck here together after that.”
I didn’t want to think about how stressful that would be, trapped in this tiny, drafty cabin with a stranger for days, and no end in sight.
Cormac gestured to a metal bucket on the kitchen table.
“I melted some snow so you can wash your face and brush your teeth,” he said. “There’s an outhouse behind the cabin. Just follow the rope tied onto the back porch, it will take you there. Toilet paper is in my rucksack.”
I wasn’t exactly thrilled about that part, but I would take roughing it in the woods like this over Brock’s fists in that expensive, modern A-frame any day of the week. Digging around in Cormac’s rucksack, I felt like an intruder, even though he’d given me explicit permission to go through his personal belongings.
Grabbing the toilet paper, I braced myself and opened the back door. A wall of snow swirled around me, and the wind was even worse than last night, buffeting against me. But I spotted the rope tied to the porch railing that Cormac had mentioned and I latched onto it, following it into the storm.
By the time I returned, I felt like a human icicle. Cormac greeted me at the door, as if he’d been waiting for me. Taking me by the elbow, he led me to the fire, stoking the flames high until the room was sweltering with heat.
“I was about to send out search and rescue,” he said, pressing a cup of steaming coffee into my hands. “Are you ready to return to the land of central heating and running water?”
I nodded, teeth chattering.
“Yeah, I think so. Not that I haven’t appreciated your hospitality.”
He chuckled and passed a plate of food to me, with eggs sunny side up, crispy golden hash browns, and plump, juicy slices of oranges.
“Eat up,” he said. “I’ll get the car running so it’s warm when you’re done.”
I picked up my fork, bewildered as I stared down at the meal. For the second time in twenty-four hours, a man had cooked for me. Feeding me until my stomach was full.
If I wasn’t careful, I could get used to this.
Fifteen minutes later, I had polished off every crumb of my breakfast. Cormac pulled his earthy brown Ford Explorer up to the door as close as possible, but even then, I could barely see it through the snowstorm’s onslaught.
Cormac offered his arm to me. I glanced up at him in surprise.
“You better hold on,” he said, raising his voice to be heard above the wind. “You’re short. One wrong step, and you’d be lost in a snow bank until the spring thaw.”
I sputtered, indignant. His eyes gleamed with amusement.
Was he…teasingme?
“I’m not short, Sasquatch,” I shot back.
“Whatever you say, KitKat. But if I’d brought a package of cookies with me, I could safely store them on the top shelf, knowing you wouldn’t be able to touch them.”
I wrinkled my nose at him in protest. He chuckled and took my hand, hooking my fingers into his belt loop. Then he started walking, trekking through the snow that was already up to my knees. I followed after him, trailing in his footsteps, taking advantage of the path he forged for me.
Inside his car, it was blistering with heat like a tropical oasis. All around us, the towering trees were rendered to blurry shadows by the snowfall. How would Cormac see the road in a storm like this?
He climbed into the driver’s seat and slowly started rolling down the driveway, onto the main road. Even though the car skidded and fishtailed on the icy, slippery snow, Cormac remained calm and in control. The tendons in his forearms flexed as he gripped the steering wheel.
I twisted my fingers together, biting my tongue until I tasted blood. Through the windshield, it was nothing but white everywhere I looked. These mountain roads had steep drop offs with no guard rails. If Cormac lost control of the car, we could easily plunge over the edge, and there would be no surviving a fall like that.
Then a massive pine tree loomed out of the storm, blocking the road.
