it for me.”
I swallow a handful of slush entirely for her benefit. “Better?”
A sparkling tide flits across her baby blues. “Much.”
“Good.” I grab the duffel bags and pack our scattered belongings. The bedding fills one to the brim while the other is half its size. After slinging both onto my back, I straighten to begin our journey.
“What about our humble abode?” She peers over her shoulder at our shelter with what I want to believe is kindred longing.
I glance at the neatly tied rows, courtesy of Blakely’s dedication. “We can rebuild elsewhere, or retrace our steps. It depends on what else we find.”
“All right. It’s just…you worked so hard, chopping all that wood.” Her gaze is searing-hot on my biceps. I almost flex like a damn peacock.
“I can split more.”
“With a dull blade?”
“All I need is a decent stone to sharpen the metal. No problem.”
“Freaking Boy Scout.”
I spread my arms to the side with a crooked smile aimed at her. “Which way?”
Survival tip #11: Never be afraid to trust a gut instinct.
After a cursory scan, I motion to the left. That seems like the best choice, since heading in this direction leaves the rising sun behind us. Aiming straight for that bright glare doesn’t hold much appeal. The warmth of daylight will beam down on us either way.
From the expanding grin on Halder’s face, he agrees with my decision. A flutter motors on high-speed in my belly from having that affirmation directed at me. If he’s not careful, the endless trees surrounding us are in grave danger from his smoldering stares.
That sexy voyager takes the lead—total shocker. Our bags are slung over his shoulders. The hatchet is held in his firm grip as he sets off to our next location. On top of everything else, he’s one helluva trailblazer. I don’t mind the view, though.
Halder’s backside offers a plethora of drool-worthy traits. Shaggy locks of dark blond hair curl over the fold of his stocking cap. The wide span of his frame blocks my sight from whatever might be looming ahead. I almost get the feeling that he’s shielding me on purpose. Wishful thinking? Let a girl dream.
Even with all that winter gear hiding any distinct shape, my imagination runs positively filthy. His thighs are sturdy pillars capable of hoisting a feminine-sized bundle without any effort. I bet he has the kind of ass that fills a pair of faded jeans better than a Levi’s commercial. Those muscular globes would bounce a quarter to the moon. A sigh whistles past my lips as I wrestle with these inappropriate musings. Ladies don’t appreciate being objectified by men, but I wouldn’t mind if Halder ogled me once or thrice. Maybe I’d feel better about constantly peeping at him.
I’ve given up fighting my wanton behavior. Being on constant alert is exhausting. There are bigger issues that require more energy, so I allow my dirty mind to have a turn in the front seat. Letting my secret desires wander isn’t a crime, especially while trekking through shady woodlands.
A slow inhale clears the lusty fog clogging my sound judgment. There will be no jumping of bones this fine morning. Fresh pine and rich soil perfume the crisp air. The branches sway from an easy breeze. A variety of organic hues decorate our trail. The wind is at our backs, effectively pushing us along. More friend than foe at the moment. I can only hope to preserve that relationship as the day wears on. Rows of evergreens continue on until I can no longer distinguish objects in the hazy distance.
The snowy scene unfolds into more of the same, but it’s uplifting to be moving forward. That boost lifts my chin to the awakening sky. The illusion of progress makes me believe I’m going somewhere. Each step motivates me to remain positive. Our pace is slow, thanks to the uneven terrain, which means I’m not forced to compete with Halder’s massive stride. The steady motion is elevating my core temperature, so being cold isn’t a concern. Getting my blood pumping fuels more good vibes.
Our journey has been mostly quiet since we left the clearing. Other than our crunching footfalls, only the scurrying of unseen critters tickle my ears. That modicum of comfort I’d held while bundled in my sleeping bag is now in the rearview. But returning to our landing site is always an option. The tracks we’re stomping into the forest floor won’t be difficult to follow. Having that choice gives me a shot of relief.
“Is