Single Dad's Cabin: A Mountain Man Romance Page 2

  Not this time, storm. Not with Emma waiting on me.

  I feel shitty about leaving her like this - but I really do need to check the cabins, and that snowball fight might have taken a little longer than I’d thought. The storm is coming on much faster than had been predicted. I was counting on having a little more time to get everything done.

  I start to pick up the pace as I head out towards the cabins, suddenly getting an uneasy feeling about what it might look like in an hour or two.

  It’s probably a good thing Emma isn’t coming with me.

  If only it wasn’t because—

  I try not to wonder how we’re ever going to get past that. And as uncertainty flickers through me again, I refuse to think about whether bringing her here was the wrong decision - if, instead of healing her, it’s just made things worse.

  I do my best to shake that feeling off, fixing the image of her healthy, glowing face firmly in my mind instead. I hear that cheeky giggle in my mind and smile at the endless energy she has for running around out here.

  And I promise myself again that I’ll make it back to her this afternoon, however fierce this storm gets.

  I won’t be gone long, baby girl.

  Chapter Two

  Casey

  I shiver as I squint out at the swirling shades of gray.

  The car’s heating is blasting at me on full power, but it seems impossible to actually stay warm when all I can see and feel around me is endless flurries of ice-cold snow. Just its presence makes me feel cold, and the valiant struggle of the heating system is only succeeding in creating flushes of hot-and-cold across my skin.

  Even with the headlights on, I can’t see more than a few meters in front of me - and everything looks the same. The anxiety that had started out as a slight flutter is getting close to blooming into outright panic as I nibble at my lower lip and try to decide what to do.

  I only got halfway up this mountain before the snow started coming in hard enough that I didn’t feel safe driving anymore, and I did the only thing I thought I could do at the time - pulled over to wait for it to ease up again.

  That was an hour ago and since then, it’s only gotten worse. When I stopped off at the town further down the mountain, I’d been warned about a storm coming in tonight - but that had only made me more determined to get to this cabin before it hit. I’m already a day late after Lana insisted my quick visit hadn’t given us enough time to catch up and I’ll be damned if I spent all this money on a vacation to get away from everything only to pay for days holed up in a motel because of this storm.

  I probably shouldn’t have stayed the extra time with Lana, but she had just gotten engaged and there was a lot to talk about - I easily could have stayed another several days, and we wouldn’t have even begun discussing ideas for the wedding. And with everything going on in my own life at the moment, I needed to hear some good news and be excited for a little while more than I could’ve guessed.

  I’m also not entirely sure being holed up inside a cabin on the mountainside is the better choice for this storm, but I was assured it would be fully stocked with everything I’d need and I’d be perfectly safe there. It’s just the getting there that’s risky. Though it shouldn’t have been - the storm was meant to hit tonight. Not now. I’ve always been a cautious kind of person - I should have hours yet before needing to worry about it.

  Unfortunately, it looks like the sky didn’t get that memo. The wind is surging around me, rocking the car and covering the entire landscape around me in layer upon layer of white.

  It won’t be too long before my little car becomes just another part of it, covered in snow until I won’t be able to get anywhere at all. Maybe buried with me in it—

  I shudder, forcing that thought away. This already seems enough like some teenage horror movie, without me making up things like that.

  But despite the fact that waiting clearly isn’t working, I haven’t been able to make myself try to start driving again. This car simply isn’t made for these kinds of conditions - I love it to bits, and we’ve taken good care of each other over the years, but this is too much to ask. It doesn’t have the right tires, it’s too close to the ground and it simply doesn’t know what it’s doing, navigating snow like this. Neither, for that matter, do I.

  I was assured that the road up to the cabin I’m renting is kept clear of snow - but obviously, that doesn’t include what the sky might throw down at a moment’s notice - and when I started to slip and slide on the frozen ground, I simply lost my nerve.

  And so far, I haven’t been able to get it back. Even with the imminent threat that if I don’t try soon, it might be too late to do anything. I glance at my phone again, but the reception is still out. I’m not even sure who I would call - the number on the brochure I’ve got with me? I’m pretty sure that’s a booking agency, not mountain rescue.

  I tap the steering wheel as I look around, pulling my large coat closer into my body and shifting my weight on the seat under me, trying not to freak out.

  I keep thinking about getting out and walking instead, abandoning my precious car to the elements until I can come back for her. But I can’t even see the road anymore, and walking out into a storm I’m totally unprepared for seems like asking for trouble. I have no idea what’s in this rough, wood-dotted landscape. And the cabin is at least another couple of miles away.

  It just seems like a bad idea.

  Everything seems like a bad idea - waiting, driving, walking…

  And I don’t know how long I can wait to come up with a better plan.

  I bring my hand down on the wheel all of a sudden - but even the loud honking noise that usually startles me feels like it’s completely swallowed up by the desolate landscape around me.

  I keep it going for a while, then press it repeatedly, but nothing happens. I’m not sure what I’m expecting. There’s no one around here.

  Wasn’t that what I was looking for? Isolation?

  I glance back at the brochure lying on the seat beside me and give a derisive snort.

  ‘Step away from the demands of modern life…find peace and tranquility in beautiful landscapes that need no outside distractions…’

  “Yeah, sure.” I mutter, glancing back at the storm. “I think I’ll take a distraction or two over this particular landscape.”

  The whiteness around me has almost no resemblance to the sun-warmed vista of mountains and valleys and lakes on the brochure.

  Another gust of wind shakes the car, and this time I actually feel it move. Snow tumbles down onto the windshield and I can feel the wipers straining against the brittle cold to keep working. I tap the dashboard sympathetically.

  “I’m sorry, Beeble. You don’t deserve this anymore than I do.”

  I sigh, knowing that I need to make a decision, but not quite ready to admit to myself how real the danger might be.

  It could still get better, it could still—

  The car makes a noise - a very unhappy noise, not anything like the welcoming beeble I get when I start it up - and then everything cuts out. The sudden disappearance of those semi-reassuring blasts of heat has me shivering all over as my stomach sinks.

  “Oh no, oh, c’mon…”

  I reach for the key and turn it decidedly ‘off’, then wait for a moment or two.

  “C’mon, Beeble.” I say, taking a breath and turning it as my heart thumps in my chest.

  The engine turns over once…twice…and then cuts out again.

  “No…no, no, no…”

  I try again, but I get the same result - faster, this time.

  I don’t know what’s wrong - I don’t know anything about cars - except that I’d guess Beeble got as fed up of sitting here in the snow as I am.

  I look out beyond the windshield again, the world suddenly seeming even more bleak. It’s not far past the middle of the day, but it’s as dark as if it were approaching evening - and without the headlights, it’s so much more intimidating. Now that the heating is gon
e, I’m actually realizing it was doing a lot more than my uncharitable assessment of it, and I’m suddenly cold.

  “Well, you didn’t want to make the decision…” I mutter to myself again.

  Without the heating or any way to guarantee a working car, there’s no way I can just wait in here any longer. And I can’t drive. So…

  Be careful what you wish for, hm?

  I shake my head, but I don’t really want to lose that irreverent voice in my head. Right now, I think it might be the only thing holding the panic at bay.

  I grab my phone and hesitate over the brochure for a moment before stuffing that into my pocket too. If I get signal, then maybe that number will work out for me. If.

  Feeling like there are a lot of ‘ifs’ floating around here, I finally take a deep breath and push the door open.

  For a moment, it doesn’t budge, and panic really does start to flare in me. But with another shove I manage to break the seal of ice around the edge and dislodge the snow that’s built up to the side, forcing my way out of it.

  The wind and snow and cold hits me in one hard blast and I shiver right down to my toes, trying pathetically to huddle in a coat that - although large and impressive-looking enough - doesn’t seem able to prevent any of it from going all the way through me.

  I force the door shut again and stand blinking for a moment, unable to believe how much snow has piled up in the brief time I’ve been waiting in my car - it comes up well over my ankles and I’m suddenly glad for the knee-length boots I’m wearing. Not snowshoes, maybe, but they should keep the snow out.

  I shake my head as I thought I might have tried to drive again in all this - and then give a muttered curse that I waited so long. I shiver again and realize that I really have to start moving, even though the idea of trying to fight through this storm seems impossible right now.

  “I’m sorry Beeble.” I say again, patting the top of the car. “I’ll come back for you - I promise.”

  I shake off the snow on my glove and then shove my hands into the large coat pockets as I turn to face the storm. I have another wave of panic as I realize I don’t have a clue where I’m planning to go. It’s not until I walk past the car and don’t find the road that I start feeling really on edge. Like everything else, it’s buried under inches of snow, and I cast a desperate glance around me.

  I can surmise from the direction the car is facing which way is forward and which way is back, but…as soon as I go a little further? I’ve no idea how the road is meant to twist and bend up ahead and I can’t remember anything about the route I drove up just a couple of hours ago.

  Panic and adrenaline are flaring fully in my chest now and I stand there in terrified indecision for a moment - until the cold eventually pushes me on. I need to walk - I need to move. Or I feel like I might freeze where I stand.

  It’s too far to go back, too far to go forward, and I have no idea where I’m going in either case. I look around for any sign of life, but I can barely see more than a few feet in front of my face, and the snow that keeps flying into my eyes has me ducking my head.

  I try to still my nerves long enough to make a decision - something I have never been any good at - and finally turn on my heel, forcing my way through the snow and back the way I came.

  It was a long drive to get up this far - yes, a slow, careful drive, but even so…long. I don’t have much hope of making it all the way back down into Missoula, but that’s not what I’m looking for. I’m looking for the only thing that might have a chance of working out for me - cell signal. And I know that at some point, I had it when I was back down there. There’s also a much greater chance of stumbling across a house back towards civilization than away from it, and as uneasy as not having a road to follow makes me, down is a pretty good indicator, right?

  I try to breathe slowly as I stumble in that direction, counting them in and out instead of thinking about what I’m doing or what all this might mean. How much danger I’m really in.

  I can feel the panic sitting there at the edge of my mind, threatening to swamp me, but I know if I let that take over, I’ve got no chance at all. If I collapse to the ground or pass out here, I’m not getting up again.

  Between that uncomfortable understanding and all the tricks my counselor taught me years ago, I somehow manage to keep the panic attack at bay as I push through the endless snow.

  The cold feels like a living thing, buffeting me and turning my face numb, the rest of me shivering constantly under the layers of clothing I was sure would be enough. I have to pull my hand out of my pocket every few minutes to check the phone signal, and every time the wind seems to go straight through my glove like it doesn’t even exist.

  Within a few minutes, any relief I’d had about my boots disappears completely, as the ‘waterproof’ material gets soaked through and I swear I can feel the frozen snow against inside.

  My estimations about how long I can last in this storm, and how far I might be able to get, shrink dramatically.

  The panic doesn’t come back, though. I think I’m too cold to panic now.

  Everything is numb and frozen and all I can do is trudge forward, hoping it will be enough. That I’ll find something - someone - signal - anything. I don’t even try to call out. I can’t hear anything beyond the wind in the trees and I’m not sure I could make my voice work if I tried. It feels numb. Everything feels numb.

  The cold doesn’t even hurt anymore. I’m too numb for it to hurt.

  I keep walking, just one foot in front of the other, unable to think or do anything but simply move, until the cold slowly starts to disappear. I blink slowly in confusion as I notice it, slow warmth starting to spread over my body. The storm is still raging, the situation still feels impossible, and I realize I haven’t checked to see if my phone has signal for the longest time.

  Somehow, I can’t quite make myself do that, though.

  I’m not sure I can move my hands out of my pockets.

  I feel light and floaty and far away as I continue to force my way through the snow and cold that seems to have seeped so far inside me that it now is me. It’s gotten darker, too. Everything seems harder to see, even though it can’t be more than a few hours past midday.

  Exhaustion starts to overwhelm me, pulling me down and under and making it impossible to think about anything.

  I look down at the snow-covered ground before me and it doesn’t seem cold and unforgiving anymore. All I can think is how fluffy and soft it must be. And how very tired I am.

  It doesn’t seem so bad to lie down for a little while. Just a little while. Just to get my breath back.

  I smile a little, at the idea of that.

  And slowly sink down to the ground.

  Chapter Three

  Liam

  I make my way back down from the cabins in the middle of the raging storm, simultaneously relieved and disturbed.

  On the one hand, they’re definitely fully stocked. Nothing has been depleted - in fact, nothing has been touched at all. There are no signs anyone has even been there - and when I arrived, there was no one around. Despite this storm reaching heights that would have even the most foolish person staying inside where it’s safe and warm.

  Except, you know, you.

  I ignore that, telling myself that at least I know how to deal with a storm like this. And then I ignore how badly that holds up because, really, the only thing to be doing in a storm like this is finding shelter.

  At least I’m heading in that direction now. Back home. Back to Emma.

  Who, thank goodness, isn’t out in this with me.

  I shake my head at the idea that I was stupid enough to suggest she come.

  What kind of idiot takes their little girl out into a storm like this?

  The kind of idiot who desperately wants her to have a little exposure to other people, that’s what.

  But the thought doesn’t bite at me the way it did earlier. I’m too focused on the storm.

  And distracted by n
ot finding anyone in those cabins.

  The owner of this vast plot of land and my boss, McNeil, is notoriously bad at keeping in contact with me about anything - but I do usually get a message when he’s expecting the cabins to be occupied. So I know he was expecting someone to arrive yesterday. And if they did, then they definitely should have been in one of the cabins I just checked.

  I don’t have any real contact with the occupants, except when I’m delivering supplies or if they need help in some emergency. McNeil, for all his slightly endearing faults, was generous enough to make it very clear that my number was an emergency only kind of thing. I look after the land and the property, but I don’t do people if I can help it.

  I’m done with all that.

  Or at least…I was.

  Now…the concern that Emma needs some real social interaction is starting to make things more complicated.

  While I visit the cabins alone, I’ll do what I can to avoid them.

  But if Emma was with me? Well, I’m not gonna lie. Then I’d make all the effort to strike up a rapport and give her a chance to start feeling comfortable again.

  Am I totally just interested in using them for that?

  Well, yeah. So what?

  People use each other all the time. And I don’t give a shit about any of it, except what might be good for Emma.

  But this mysteriously absent person does bother me.

  I might not have any tolerance for pleasantries or small talk, but the nagging concern that someone might be out here in this storm? Yeah, that affects me.

  I’ve spent my whole life safeguarding people from the elements in one way or another, and that isn’t so easy to shake.

  I tell myself that no one would decide to go out in this storm and it’s more likely they just didn’t turn up. Hell, maybe they canceled and McNeil forgot to mention it.

  But there’s something about this storm that makes me uneasy, a nagging feeling in my gut that I know better than to ignore…

  And it did hit hours earlier than it should have.