He nodded and they pushed on, knowing they still had to make it to the station and it was probably another mile out. Jeremiah hadn’t kept track of how far they’d gone. He cursed himself for not staying aware of his surroundings—which was something that had been drilled into him back when he’d been a young ranger. Guess he’d been behind a desk for too long to remember the basics. If they managed to survive this night, he made a vow to brush up on his survival skills even if he never planned to embark on such a foolhardy venture again. He knew they shouldn’t have left without following proper procedure, without backup. He’d foolishly allowed Miranda’s passion to overrule his good sense and now they both might pay the ultimate price. He couldn’t feel his toes inside his boots nor his fingers in his gloves and he suspected Miranda was suffering the same but she wasn’t about to admit it.
It was near whiteout conditions and they were nearly on top of the station when they finally saw it emerge from the blizzard curtain. “Thank God,” he said, his teeth chattering hard. Miranda’s hands were shaking as she pushed open the door, and they both stumbled inside, slamming the door behind them. Miranda found her way in the darkened cabin to a rudimentary shelf and lit the kerosene lamp while Jeremiah worked as quickly as his frozen bones would allow to build a fire in the cold grate. The kindling sparked and caught the dry oak, and within moments, a cheery fire blazed in the hearth, providing further light in the tiny shack. Jeremiah and Miranda stood before the flames warming themselves for quite a while, too cold to speak. The shack was well insulated, and before long, the heat from the fire had chased away the freezer-locker chill.
Jeremiah took stock of the small station. It was as simple as they came but, then, it wasn’t made for luxury. It was made to save lives. A double bed was tucked in the corner and canned goods lined the wood shelves. He took a final look out the window and knew with a certainty that they weren’t going anywhere tonight. Particularly when the radio was in the car and both their cell phones were dead.
Miranda sat on the bed, pulling her sodden socks from her wet boots and laying them to dry near the fire. She quietly watched the flames, disappointment and something else reflecting in her stare.
He knew she was beating herself up and he wasn’t about to let her take all the blame. He went to her and placed a hand gently on her shoulder. She reluctantly met his gaze. “It’s going to be all right. Neither of us knew the magnitude of this storm or how quickly it was going to strike. Let’s just ride it out and start fresh. Okay?”
She accepted his attempt at comfort but then she pulled away. “It wouldn’t have mattered. I would’ve gone either way. I guess that’s the reckless streak everyone likes to point out. I’m sorry I got you wrapped up in this, too.”
He wasn’t sorry. Strangely, he was relieved that he’d chosen to tag along. If he hadn’t, Miranda might’ve died on the mountain. “I wasn’t a helpless victim. I chose, remember? Now, enough of this talk. Let’s pick out dinner. I’m just hungry enough to think that canned sardines sound pretty good.”
She chuckled in spite of herself and got up from the bed. “You’re something else, Jeremiah Burke. Thanks for saving my ass.”
He refrained from quipping, “It’s the finest ass I’ve ever had the pleasure of saving” and accepted her gratitude with a smile as he held up the choice of two cans. “Canned corn and potted meat on crackers or peaches and canned halibut on crackers? Hell, I’m feeling adventurous...how about both?”
“Sounds good to me. Go wild, boss man, while I find the plastic forks.”
Jeremiah opened the cans and grimaced at the slightly smoky scent of the canned halibut, and as he worked with Miranda to prepare a dinner of sorts for the two of them he realized with a start there was only one bed in the room. As his heart rate accelerated, he made a second realization that jolted him to his bones—he couldn’t wait to sleep beside her one more time.
And that was bad. Very bad.
But he also knew neither had a choice in the matter.
Miranda caught his gaze and she realized his thoughts. “We can handle this, right? We’re adults caught in a life-or-death situation. Nothing is going to happen between us.”
He wanted to reassure her, but as her tongue snaked nervously along her sensually plump lower lip, his groin tightened and he knew it was going to be rough to deny each other. Still, he would do his damnedest. “We’re adults. We can handle simply sleeping beside each other,” he agreed gruffly. He gestured to their makeshift dinner. “Let’s eat.”