7. Survival 101

Could this get any more surreal? Was surly Noah Hunnicutt also Mr. Hottie Bartender? The name rang a bell, though she couldn't place it with her mind consumed by survival. With the beanie pulled down to his brows, she wasn't a hundred percent sure. Either way, though, was he someone she'd have to defend herself against? Not that she had much chance against a dude who had a foot and at least sixty pounds of solid muscle on her.

Her jitters jangled in her bloodstream. It was one thing for him to be the star of her nighttime fantasies, but climbing into a truck with the real deal … What choice, besides freezing to death, did she have, though?

With her go-pack strapped on, she slid down the steep embankment after him as he plowed down the slope, cradling the dog in his arms on his way to his black Ford truck. If he were Ted Bundy reincarnate, he wouldn't have rescued a random mutt in a snowstorm, nor would he be so gentle with him now, would he? No, he would not, she reassured herself.

Noah grunted in her general direction. "Can you get the back door?" She opened it, and he jerked his chin toward the interior. "There's a blanket under the seat. If you spread it out, I'll lay him on it."

She reached in and retrieved a scratchy maroon blanket, laying it over a brown leather bench seat. A quick scan of the interior revealed that the rest of the vehicle was as richly appointed and surprisingly tidy. "Luxurious" and "pickup truck" didn't go together. Not in her lexicon anyway. With the way her father had pissed through money, luxury had been an abstract concept for most of her life.

Shutting the door, Noah looked down at her. Eyes that glittered like green cut glass seemed to drill right into her soul and ferret out every secret. Nearly a year ago, she'd been caught in that gaze when she'd first seen him working behind the bar, but that had been at a distance. Now, up close, its intensity fired up weird flutters in her tummy. She tried to look away but couldn't. She blinked instead.

He swiped tiny crystals from the long, dark lashes framing those emerald eyes. "I know. The snow keeps getting in my eyes too." She didn't bother correcting him. "Let's get into the truck and warm up."

With that, he clambered into the driver's seat and pulled the door closed. Hailey made her way around the hood, climbed inside the back, and parked her butt on the bench seat beside Rover. The dog rolled bewildered eyes toward her as she stroked his matted fur; his bony body quivered beneath her touch.

Noah started the engine, and a man's deep, familiar voice boomed over the speakers. Rover jerked. The volume immediately dropped as Noah poked at the screen. "Sorry," he rumbled. "I had the volume cranked up so I could hear it over the storm."

"Are you … is that the Pirate History Podcast with Matt Albers?"

He turned partway in his seat to look at her. "You know it?"

She crossed her fingers. "Oh yeah. Matt and I are like this." Yay! Common ground.

His sable brows pinched together, forming deep vertical creases between them. His broody eyes pierced hers once more before he turned back to the dashboard with a barely detectable huff. He picked up his phone, his thumbs flying over the keyboard.

Or not.

Long minutes unfurled. "I'm gonna try Charlie again," he mumbled.

Some people had laugh lines around their eyes and mouths, but Noah's muscle memory showed itself in his frown. Where was that easy smile she'd seen him flashing in the bar? Maybe it had all been part of a bartender act.

Ringing came through the speakers, and a male voice answered, "Everything okay?"

"As well as can be expected. I'm in the truck. Did you get hold of Micky? I tried Reece but got no reply."

"And you won't. Reece was deployed to search for lost heli-skiers. As for Micky, Coal Bank Pass is closed, dude. Nobody's getting up there until it reopens."

Noah dropped a few f-bombs under his breath. "Let me give you my location before reception goes to shit. And if someone has to track me, my GPS is on."

"Go," Charlie urged. "Then text them to me, just in case."

Noah read off a few coordinates.

"Got 'em. What's your sitch?"

"I've got about six gallons of gas, so I figure if I run the engine for ten minutes every hour, the fuel will last the rest of the night."

A frisson of panic bloomed inside Hailey. Oh God, please don't let us be here all night!

"Good, and now the signal seems to be holding, so we can stay in touch," Charlie replied. "Did you say earlier someone's with you?"

"Yeah, so watch the language. You're on loudspeaker."

"Oh shit. Sorry if I offended you, Noah's passenger." Charlie's tone held a hint of a grin.

"Her name is Hailey. Bailey. Hailey Bailey." Noah turned his head, and she took in his strong profile. Squared-off jawline covered by a short beard, chiseled cheekbones, aquiline nose. Even from the side, the deep green of his eyes caught the light. "Hailey, meet my younger brother, Charlie, the golden retriever of the family."

"Hi, Charlie." She injected false cheer into her voice to mimic the two brothers, who seemed unnaturally casual about the marooned state she and Noah found themselves in.

"Hi, Hailey Bailey. Don't worry. We'll get you guys out of there, okay?" Charlie's next words were punctuated by the telltale garble of a bad connection.

"You're breaking up," Noah barked.

A few nonsensical syllables came back in staccato bursts, and the line went dead. Noah deflated with a sigh, then dragged his hand down his face. All that nonchalance might have been an act too, and Hailey's panic factor ratcheted up a notch or ten.

She gulped. "Do you think he got the coordinates?"

"Yeah, he got them."

"Um, I'm usually a pretty upbeat girl, but I also like knowing what's coming at me. Are we in danger?"

Noah stared out the windshield. "Danger? Doubtful. Discomfort, though? Yeah. I'm not sure how long it'll take someone to reach us."

After several squirm-worthy beats, he side-eyed her over his shoulder again. "It wouldn't hurt to have a backup beacon on. Does your phone have GPS?"

"I-I have no idea."

"I'll take a look for you. Did you bring a charger?"

"Yes, but I'm good for now."

He held out his hand, and she unlocked and deposited her device in his rough palm. He began scrolling. "You do have GPS. I'll activate it and text Charlie so he's got your number too. Things can get a little wonky at 10,640 feet."

"Don't I know it." She attempted a smile despite her rising alarm. "You sure you're not off by a foot or two?"

His answer was pure seriousness. "I'm going by what the sign at the summit says. I've driven past it a million times, and it's never changed."

Anxiety had her blurting, "The Donner party was stuck three thousand feet lower than our current altitude."

He turned once more, his gaze locking on hers. "I don't think anybody's eating anybody anytime soon." His eyes widened, cluing her to the unintentional innuendo.

A giggle bubbled inside her at the absurdity, and she squelched it, instead muttering, "Thank God for that."

Awkwardness swelled between them, and he quickly faced forward again.

Sheesh. I like Hot Bartender from my dreams way better than his stunt double. Fantasy guy never talks—unless he's telling me how gorgeous I am. Can I trade?

He flicked a finger. "Do you have someone you need to call?"

"No, I'm good." Calling Kaylee would only freak her out. Besides, what could she do? Recover your body. Hailey shuddered with the disturbing thought.

Rover lifted his head, and she pulled a bottle from her pack and drizzled some water into her cupped hand. He had a lick and lay back down, as if that little movement had utterly exhausted him. She rubbed the remainder on his snout, and his pink tongue stretched and swiped at it. Stay with me, buddy.

"So who's this Reece you guys were talking about?"

Noah plugged his phone into a charger. "Our older brother. He's part of search and rescue, which really sucks for the people he's looking for."

"Why? Isn't he any good?"

"No, he's really good. One of the best. Which means if search and rescue sent Reece and his team, those skiers are in some serious shit."

We're in serious shit too.She stared outside her window at the steadily thickening veil of snow.

His deep voice startled her. "How's your dog doing?"

"He's shivering, but he took some water."

Noah pulled out a map and unfolded it partway. "See if you can slip this between him and the seat. It's the only paper I've got, but it should help keep his underside warm. Then you can throw the blanket over him to keep his body heat in."

"Um, okay. You seem to know a little about outdoor survival. Is that why you're not flipping out?"

He let out a mirthless chuckle. "Who says I'm not flipping out?"

"Not helping." She arranged Rover on the map, and the dog barely whimpered.

"Seriously, it's a necessity up here. Our parents, our teachers—hell, everyone—beat it into us from the time we could walk."

"You grew up around here?"

"Yep. Our family goes back a way." Before she could engage him in more conversation, he switched tracks. "How about I turn on the truck and we charge our phones? Then we can listen to a Pirate episode. Might as well keep our minds occupied with a little looting and pillaging."

"Which episodes do you have downloaded?"

"Which epi—" Realization seemed to dawn on him. "Well, shit. None. And there's no Internet. Never mind."

"I might have a few older ones on my phone," she offered. "I don't mind listening again." It would beat sitting in smothering silence.

Another backward look, and those thick brows of his knotted together again. "If you climbed up front, you'd probably be warmer. The vents back there are kinda wimpy."

"I'm okay." She rubbed her hands along her thighs.

"Suit yourself." Noah turned on the wipers, and fluffy snow flew from the windshield, clearing a semicircle of glass. Snow fell more heavily than before, and Hailey's hopes for an early exit plummeted.

He seemed to pick up on her distress because he offered her a sympathetic half-smile. "Why don't we empty our go-bags and see what we've got between us?" He flipped down the front passenger seat so it was nearly flat, and together they emptied their packs, sorting supplies. Taking inventory, he declared they had enough to see them through for a while. Hailey didn't dare ask how long "a while" was.

He lifted a worn paperback from the pile. "You like to read, I take it?"

"I like to switch realities." When he shot her a questioning look, she added, "Reading helps me forget the real world for a while."

He fanned the pages. "When we're done with Pirates, we can read this. What's it about?"

"It's a horror story by Dean Koontz." A shiver traveled through her. "Under the circumstances, I'm not a big fan of that idea."

"So you enjoy escaping real life by jumping into nightmares?" One side of his mouth twitched.

"I have a few alternate histories on my phone that aren't too scary."

He picked up a packet of meat sticks and lifted his chin toward Rover. "Wanna see if he'll eat one? I bet he's hungry."

Okay, so the guy did have a heart under that armor. She broke off a small piece and handed it to Rover, who sniffed before licking it out of her hand. "Hey, he's eating it!"

"Yeah, he knows what's good for him."

"What do you do?" She pretended not to know the answer as she fed bits to the dog.

He cracked the cap on a water bottle, tipped it back, and swallowed. "I tend bar at a hole-in-the-wall in Fall River."

A hole-in-the-wall? Hardly! Unless he had switched jobs. "What's the name of the place?"

"The Miners Tavern." Before she could chime in that she'd stepped into the tavern once, he rushed ahead. "My turn. Where are you from?"

"You mean here in Colorado or originally?"

"So you're not from around here." He seemed to derive a great deal of pleasure from this conclusion, the jerk.

"I live in Montrose."

"Before that?"

"San Diego."

"A Californian." He said it like he was spitting out gristle.

Irritation percolated insider her. "I was only there long enough to get my Biology degree."

He made a rolling motion with his hand. "And before that?"

"I grew up in Hawaii."

"No kidding? Definitely not from around here." His voice had lost its sarcasm. "What were your parents doing there?"

Besides screwing up their lives and ours? "My dad was a professional surfer."

"Wow. That's not an answer you hear every day. Do you surf?"

"I surfed from the time I could walk," she sighed. "I used to compete."

"I take it you don't anymore. Did you get hurt?"

"It's a long story," she deflected.

He cocked an eyebrow. "We've got nothing but time."

"Let's say I don't know you well enough to go there." Her answer came out terser than she'd meant, but he seemed wholly unfazed.

He gave a nod of understanding. "Fair enough, we won't go there. What do you do in Montrose?"

She rubbed her neck, uncomfortable going there either—especially after the Miners Tavern hostess's comment about how the owner hated food inspectors. Logic dictated this guy was in the same camp as the owner. Even at the best of times, the relationship between a restaurant worker and a food inspector was akin to that between a hockey enforcer and a ref. They had to tolerate someone looking over their shoulder, but they didn't much like it—nor did they like the penalties that person might hand out. For trying to do her job, she'd been threatened and called every bad name imaginable, and she didn't relish having to defend herself in her current trapped state.

Since her survival depended on this particular restaurant worker, she decided not to introduce a possible point of contention into the mix.

"I, uh, work for the county public health department. Hey, you know what? You were right. The vents are wimpy back here."

Noah tilted the rearview mirror down. "Rover's resting peacefully. Why don't you climb on up?" He held the front passenger seat down as she made the awkward clamber into place. Once she was settled, he tossed her a space blanket, which she gratefully spread over herself, trying not to ponder how long those vents would continue cranking heat.

"Hey," he said softly, as if he'd read her thoughts. "We'll get out of this. How about pulling up one of those pirate episodes on your phone?"

She merely nodded.

Clipped answers aside, Noah Hunnicutt was smooth at the reassurances—not in a Ted Bundy kind of way, though—and his honey-bourbon voice had a strange calming effect that allowed her tendons and ligaments to let go enough that she could slump back against the seat.

She scrolled through the episodes, settling on one, and handed him her device. Once they'd paired it with the sound system, he turned up the volume and leaned back.

"A-pirating we're going, me matey. Yo ho."

She had little chance to contemplate how surprisingly playful this statement was before a different baritone timbre filled the truck cab with words of welcome to his podcast. Hailey closed her eyes.

She must have dropped off because she roused with a jerk to a dim, cold cab. Unrelenting snow blanketed the world outside in suffocating white layers as daylight gave way to an ominous indigo twilight. A bright nylon kite tied to Noah's antenna snapped with the driving wind.

She lurched forward. The small flame of a tea light flickered on the dashboard. Noah tilted his head, his glittery gaze fixed on her.

"I guess I dozed off," she muttered, raking her fingers through her hair.

He nodded and handed her a water bottle. "Here. Have some before it freezes." A cloud of steam billowed from his mouth.

Despite her gloves, Hailey's digits were numb, and grasping the bottle proved difficult. She took a small sip and craned her head toward the backseat.

Noah anticipated her question—he seemed to have a knack for it. "I think he's okay. At least he's breathing."

The blanket was solidly tucked around the dog's body, and her insides warmed as she imagined Noah tending to the poor mutt.

"Hungry?" Noah blew on his hands and rubbed them together.

"Not really."

"Some nuts, half a protein bar?" He tore open one of his L?rabars and dangled it, as if the motion might make the pressed cardboard look appetizing.

"No, thanks."

"Wrong answer, grumpy." Wiggling his thick eyebrows, he singsonged, "I have trail mix with MMs."

Fighting a smile, she snatched the bar from his fingers and pointed it at him. "All right, pushy. But I expect blue MMs when I'm done with this."

A smirk tipped his lips. "Why blue?"

"They taste better."

"Whatever you say." With an amused headshake, he cranked on the engine.

They listened to more of the podcast, sharing beef sticks and trail mix. Without a word, he picked out each blue candy and placed it on the center console for her. She gobbled up every single one.

When he turned off the engine, she peeked out her window into a world shadowed in shades of deep blue. The snow had gathered in tall drifts, reminding her of a monster wave curling above her. It cast an eerie glow inside the cab. A chill invaded her bones, and her teeth clattered. God, it was cold!

"Are we going to be okay?" she whispered.

"The temperature may drop a little more, but yeah, we'll be okay." His voice was like velvet, caressing her nerves that twitched like live wires. Then he released a billowing breath.

She swiveled her head toward him. "What?"

"You're not going to like this, but I was thinking we could climb under a blanket together in the backseat. That's about the best way I can think of to generate more heat."

The idea didn't sound as awful as it should have. Good looks aside, the guy could probably produce a ton of BTUs on his own, and right now she didn't care if he was Ted Bundy.

She craned her neck to put eyes on Rover. "What about the dog?"

"I've been thinking about that. There's not enough room for all three of us on the backseat, so I planned to move him up front. I'll swap his cover for the space blanket you've been using so your heat passes to him. Between that and the map, he should stay warm enough. Then you and I can cover ourselves with the rest of the blankets."

She arched an eyebrow. "Is this the part where you tell me we're supposed to get naked for maximum heat? 'Cause I've got to draw a line there."

He seemed to short-circuit, his green eyes blinking wide. "Wow, you say whatever's on your mind, don't you? And no! Why would I do that?"

Oops. Guess he didn't get the memo it was another lame attempt at a joke.A modicum of disappointment curled inside her. It wasn't that she truly wantedto get naked with him, but did he have to sound so appalled? With any luck, the dim light hid the flush of crimson spreading across her cheeks.

"I thought I read somewhere that heat production between people worked better with skin-to-skin contact," she faltered. "Under extreme conditions, of course."

He seemed to swallow a chuckle. "You'd have to ask Reece about that. But no, I'm not angling to get naked. Now would be a good time to go to the bathroom, though, and you'll want to hustle outside and get it over with."

Thankful to tumble out of the truck and cool off her overheated face, she crouched awkwardly in the snow, freezing her tuchus.

When she re-entered the cab's back, blankets had been arranged over the seat and Noah's coat was bunched into a makeshift pillow. The dog was now in the front passenger seat under a double layer of covers.

Noah proffered a silver flask. "Whiskey."

She took a grateful nip, shuddered as its bite worked its way to her belly, and handed it back.

He lifted the piled blankets. "Climb in."

"Should I turn my coat into a pillow too?" She'd have to take it off to do that.

"Only if you're worried you're bunking with a pillow hog. I've been accused of needing work on my bed etiquette, but stealing pillows wasn't one of the complaints."

Her brain began dissecting and rearranging scenarios that involved him in bed until she ordered it to stop. Instead, she focused on being thankful this grumpy guy was able to maintain even a sliver of humor.

She removed her coat, folded it beside his, and shimmied into the nest he'd created. She lay on her side, making herself as narrow as possible, facing the back of the seat. Sliding behind her, he tugged the covers over his shoulders, and a woodsy man smell enveloped her. She froze at the feel of his big body behind hers, luxuriating in his heat while trying to keep some distance between them. Doing so proved impossible on the narrow bench seat. He folded one arm under his head and draped the other over his hip, taking obvious care not to touch her more than he had to.

"You warm enough?" His chest rumbled with the words.

"Y-yes," she stammered. "What about you?" The blankets weren't big enough to cover them both completely, and his frame was too long to fully extend, so his back had to be exposed to the cold.

"I'll live. We can switch it up if we need to." His warm breath stroked her cheek.

He tucked his knees behind hers and shifted his weight in the too-tight space, his limbs stretching, flexing, and finally softening. He was all hard angles and planes, and an unwanted thrill coursed through her entire body. She couldn't recall lying beside a man who felt so … manly.

Silent beats followed, and the awkwardness became too much. Her mind sifted through various ways to distract itself. What it came up with, unfortunately, did little to achieve that goal.

"It's probably a little late for this, but do you have a significant other you'll need to explain this, um, situation to?"

"Nope. Free as a bird."

Why that made her heart beat its own wings, she couldn't say.