Melissa L. Cook

Chapter 1: Into a Whiteout

​

If I don’t move faster, they won't find me until spring, wildlife biologist Nina Callahan thought to herself as she faced the storm alone.

 

She lowered her head against the wind and pushed through another drift, barely catching herself before she fell. Snow blasted across the trail. The wind erased her tracks almost as quickly as she created them.

 

The whirling sound of the wind almost drowned out the crunch of the snow beneath her boots. Almost. She scanned the horizon for the cabin. What if the whiteout had turned her around? She knew her way back when she could see. But now? She wasn’t sure.

 

Knee-deep snow dragged at her boots as she stumbled out of the tree line into the open. One more trail cam to check. That’s what she’d told herself two hours ago when she had decided to go ahead and hike the extra distance to gather all the data. It had mattered this morning. This would be the last set before winter buried the cameras for months. She needed it, but at what cost?

 

Thinking back now, she should have refused to stay late this morning reviewing her coworker’s reports that weren’t even due yet. He had hovered beside her desk, acting as if every detail mattered right then, like her time belonged to him.

 

Now, she was stuck out in a storm searching for a cabin that wasn’t even on the map.

 

The storm had blown in hours ahead of last night’s forecast. Even with the delay at work, she’d expected to have enough time to check the cameras and make it back to her truck before the sun set. That had turned out to be a bit optimistic. The wind picked up, making it hard to search the surroundings. Hunched deeper into her coat, she raised her scarf over her nose and mouth, the edge already stiff with ice. Every breath brought cold air into her lungs. Wet snow soaked through her clothes, and she was starting to shiver.

 

The thought of freezing to death in remote Alaska, so far from the Montana ranch she’d grown up on, pushed her forward. Her thighs screamed in protest. Fat snowflakes deepened the snow by the minute. The world narrowed to a white, howling wall.

 

Nina cursed herself for being in this situation. Proving she could handle it alone seemed more important than turning back. What was I thinking? This wasn't Montana. No one was waiting for her to come home. Her parents would never recover if she didn’t make it. That was not an option.

 

She stopped to catch her breath.

 

The cabin had to be close. It had to be.

 

Don’t just walk. Think, damn it. Think! She dug out the satellite phone from her pack. She hadn’t wanted to be the idiot who called for help, but the storm was growing worse by the minute. She pressed the power button. Nothing. Her stomach dropped. That didn’t make sense. She’d charged it at the office yesterday.

 

When she left, her coworker had warned her that storms moved fast out here. Then came the muttered comment about outsiders never lasting in Alaska. It felt like a challenge that irritated her, so she went anyway. She shook her head at her stubborn need to be independent. How many times had that bitten her in the ass? Too many. And this time, it might finally catch up to her.

 

Confused by the blowing snow, she lifted a gloved hand to shield her eyes from the driving wind. Somewhere out there was No Man’s Cabin—the emergency shelter her coworker had mentioned before she left work.

 

“A backup plan,” he’d said. Now, she wished the cabin had been on the map. Her eyelashes crusted with ice as she scanned the trees for anything that looked manmade.

 

The wind changed. A figure emerged through the swirling snow. Squinting, she noticed the trap slung over his shoulder. Her chest cinched tight at the sight of him.

 

Oh, hell no. Not him.

 

Reid Lawson. She’d caught herself noticing his dark hair and broad shoulders more than once while waiting in line at the post office. Snap out of it, woman. It’s Reid—the guy who couldn’t care less who you are.

 

He made his way through the deep snow, heading toward her. She refused to walk in his direction, waiting instead for him to cross her path. How many times had he turned away just enough while waiting in line to make a conversation awkward? Or looked down at his feet coming through the door at the store when he saw her standing in front of him? Why? Because she wasn’t from Tea Creek?

 

“Nina! What are you doing out in this storm?” Reid’s stern voice carried across the drifts. He cut through the snow with long strides, as if it weren’t dragging at his legs the way it was hers. His being on the same trail both infuriated and comforted her. Of all people—the one she couldn’t seem to ignore and couldn’t seem to impress.

 

“At least I’m not alone in this shit storm,” she muttered to herself, then shouted to him, “Tell me you’re not heading to No Man’s Cabin.”

 

Reid stopped a few feet away. Snow had collected on his coat. A half-grin tugged at his mouth that conflicted with the concerned stare of his dark blue eyes. Seeing him always made her heart skip a beat, whether she wanted it to or not.

 

“You know it. Storm’s turning ugly.” He glanced at the sky, then back to her. “Looks like we’ll be sharing shelter for the night.”

 

She stiffened. “That’s not great news.”

 

“I didn’t say it was.” His gaze dropped briefly to the pack weighing down her shoulders. “Let me help you with that.” He reached toward her.

 

She stepped back. “I can take care of myself.”

 

“Uh-huh.” He side-eyed her, then his brow furrowed. “That pack’s heavy, especially in snow this deep.”

 

“I’ve got it. Thanks.” She hugged the straps tighter. “I don’t need saving.”

 

He studied her for a second longer, then reached out anyway and lifted the strap from her shoulder. Her body lightened at once, and her shoulders eased. Her balance shifted. She hated how much she liked it.

 

Needing help had never meant relief before. It meant weakness. On the ranch, everyone had to pull their weight or chores didn’t get finished by the end of the day. A tinge of guilt twisted in her gut thinking about how she had left her parents at the ranch to chase her dream of being a wildlife biologist in Alaska, even though they encouraged her.

 

Why couldn’t he see she was stronger than everyone thought?

 

“Be careful with my bag; I have equipment in there,” she warned.

 

Reid adjusted her pack over his and nodded toward the white blur ahead. “Cabin’s not far. Let’s keep moving. That puffy coat of yours looks soaked. I’m guessing it’s not waterproof. It might work in other places but not here.” He eyed her in it. She wondered if he could tell the wet snow had seeped all the way through.

 

Nina fell into step beside him, annoyed by how much easier the hike became the moment he took her pack. Worse, she found comfort in his steady presence by her side in the storm.

 

Damn him.

 

For nearly a year, she’d matched the distance between them that he had seemed determined to keep. Out here, with the storm closing in around them, none of that mattered anymore.

 

Her decision to stay out in the storm now forced her to stay the night at No Man’s Cabin, with Reid Lawson.