He got a firm grip on the stick and placed an arm over her shoulders, trying not to put too much pressure on her. He felt guilty that he couldn’t even relieve her of his bag, but she was right, anything more would unbalance him. His ankle was really starting to throb now that the adrenaline was wearing off.
She glanced over at him. “Thank you for finding Gizmo.”
“You’re welcome.”
Were those unshed tears shimmering in her eyes? But in a blink, they were gone. And he wasn’t sure if he’d imagined them after all.
At least, they were now even. He glanced over at his snow angel. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid his eyes on. It was hard to miss her stunning green eyes. They were unforgettable and strangely familiar. But that was impossible, right? After all, she was here in Austria and he was from New York City.
But the more he thought about it, he realized that she spoke with an American accent. Now, that he found interesting. What was an American woman doing in Austria at Christmastime? Did she have family here? Or was it something else? Perhaps it was the journalist in him, but he was curious about her story. And then he wondered if she might have an interesting story—something to humanize the holiday segment that he’d flown here to film.
He assured himself that it was professional interest—nothing more. After all, he was off the market. Ever since his wife passed away, he’d kept to himself. No one could ever fill the empty spot in his heart and he had no desire to replace his wife, not now—not ever.
Their progress was slow but steady. He felt bad for holding her back. “Why don’t you go on ahead?” he suggested. “You’ve got to be cold.”
“No colder than you. And I’m not leaving you out here. You don’t even know where my cabin is.”
“I can follow your tracks—”
“No. We’re in this together.”
Boy, was she stubborn. Even though it irked him that Mae was out here in the frigid air on his account, a small part of him admired her assertiveness. She would certainly be a tough nut to crack during an interview. Those were the interviews he enjoyed the most. The ones where he had to work hard to get the interviewee to open up—to get to the heart of the matter.
A lot of his peers would disagree and say that an interview should flow smoothly. But he wasn’t afraid of confrontation—of setting matters straight. But being stuck on the morning news cycle, he didn’t get to do many meaty interviews—certainly not as many as he would like.
They continued on in silence. And that was quite all right with Jackson. His head hurt. No, it pounded. But that pain was nothing compared to his ankle. However, he refused to let any of that stop him.
He clenched his jaw as he forced himself to keep moving. It was very slow progress, but one step at a time, he was moving over the snow-laden ground. The snow had seeped into his dress shoes. At first, his feet had grown cold. Then they had begun to hurt. Now they were numb.
He sure hoped they got to their destination soon. Freezing to death might make a big news story—but he wasn’t that desperate for headlines.
He glanced once more at Mae, but she’d pulled up her hood with the fluffy white fur trim, blocking the view of her beautiful face. “Is it much farther?”
“It’s just over that rise.” She turned her head, sending him a concerned look. “Do you need to rest?”
“No.” If he stopped now, he doubted he’d be able to move again. “I can make it.”
“Are you sure?” There was a distinct note of doubt in her voice.
“I’m sure.” His teeth started to chatter, so he clenched his jaw together.
Attempting to keep his thoughts on anything but the unending cold, he glanced at the woman next to him. He was torn between being angry at her for causing the accident by letting her dog loose and being grateful that she was some sort of angel sent to rescue him.
Then guilt settled in. How could he be upset with someone who was so concerned for him? She may have been irresponsible with the dog, but she’d cared enough to help him. He couldn’t forget that. Perhaps this was the twist in the story he’d come to Austria to tell. Perhaps he could attribute her actions to the holiday spirit. Maybe that was stretching things, but he liked the sound of it. He knew that angle would tug on the heartstrings of his viewers. But it wouldn’t be enough to garner the attention of the television executives—the same people who had passed him over for the evening news anchor role.
He stared straight ahead. There indeed was a slight hill. In his condition, it seemed more like Mont Blanc. But between the thick tree limb that Mae had located for him and her slim shoulders, he would make it.
Hopefully this cabin came equipped with a landline. He had to get out of here. This wasn’t a vacation for him. He was on assignment and his film crew was due to arrive tomorrow. He’d arrived early to scout out some special settings for his Christmas-around-the-world series. This accident would definitely put a crimp in his plans, but by tomorrow he’d be back on track. He refus
ed to let his ankle and various minor injuries hold him back—not when there was work to be done.
He didn’t know how much time had passed when the cabin at last came into sight. He paused for a moment, catching his breath. But only for a moment and then he was moving again—pushing through the pain. Between the snow and his injured leg, this walk was a bigger workout than he normally experienced at the gym.
His body was giving in to the cold and he stumbled. “We need to stop.”
She narrowed her gaze. “Are you quitting on me? Are you a quitter?”
“I’m not a quitter.” What was wrong with her? “Can’t you see that I’m injured?”