LITMIR.BIZ

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      “There’s still time.” He cut her off. Again.

      Rude. Curt. Terse. That should make him less attractive. That should definitely make him feel like less of a threat to her stupid resolution …

      He had flaws. The bossy thing, which shouldn’t be hot. What else? He probably wasn’t even half as strapping and impressive as his winter wear made him seem. It was just the illusion of beefy manliness from the cardinal rule of winter: loose layers kept you warmer. It somehow amplified the squareness of his jaw and the scruff that confirmed the dark color of the hair currently hidden by his knit cap.

      Her heart rate accelerated and her hands waffled at her side. This was not going the way she’d pictured it while waiting and watching through the windows. She didn’t anticipate having to try and convince someone not to go back out in the storm, and for some reason she knew he wouldn’t care that she was more afraid for the crew than for the missing man.

      She could just lock the door and keep everyone safe inside. Except she hated confrontation, and if he told her to give him the key in that bossy gravel voice of his, she’d give it to him. And possibly her undies too.

      She could really think of a good way to distract him. It definitely violated her Stupid Resolution parameters, but it was in the name of humanity and keeping people safe. Surely that was a good reason for an exception.

      Through all this stupidity, the only communication Ellory managed was skittish hand motions that made her jangle from the stacks of thin silver bangles she loved. Sentinels probably didn’t jingle.

      He glanced down at her hand and then back up, impatient brows lifting, urging her to say something else. Only Ellory didn’t know what else to say.

      Winter was his job after all. And, really, she’d spent most of the past lots of years in places where her weather awareness had mostly consisted of putting on sunscreen and seeking high ground during the rainy season. She probably wasn’t the best judge of snow stuff.

      When she failed to form any other words he started talking instead. Instructions. Things she’d already learned from studying Mira’s medical books when reading up on treatment for frostbite and hypothermia. But it was good to hear it from someone who really knew something about it. Anything about it.

      He even gave her additional explanations about signs of distress, outside the cold temperature illness symptoms she’d read about—other stuff to look for that would require Mira immediately, and he capped off the instructions with a long, measuring look. “If you’re not up to the task, tell me now. I’ll get Dr. Dupris down here.”

      “I’m up to the task.” She was, she just wished she wasn’t. “Are you? Your shoulder is hurt. I’ve seen you roll your arm in the socket at least three times since you came inside and you’ve been rubbing it too.”

      He closed the bag of dog treats and stuffed it into his pocket. “I’m all right. We’ll call if we get stuck. And we’ve got survival gear on the ATVs.”

      Movement behind her made her aware that the team had all moved toward the door, ready to go wherever Fearless Leader told them to. They all either ignored what she’d been saying about the danger of going out in the crazy falling snow or were busy building an imaginary snow fort of denial.

      Anson held the door and looked at the dog. “Max.” One word and his furry companion scampered right out behind them.

      It would be okay. People who risked their lives for others had to build up good karma. The team would make it back, and maybe their karma would extend to the still missing skier. Until then she’d do her best—manage the lobby/exposure clinic, keep the fire stoked and the water heated and flowing, and keep those who’d been out in it warm and safe.

      After the team returned, and when the head count was official, then she’d get Mira.

      Anson Graves’s snowmobile crept through the falling white flakes. Theoretically, there should be another couple of hours of daylight left, but between the dense clouds and miles of sky darkened by falling snow it felt more like twilight. Zero visibility. He was half-afraid he’d find the missing man by accidentally running him over.

      A trip that normally took fifteen minutes was taking forever.

      Anson knew only too well how much longer it would seem for the man who was stuck in the cold, counting his own heartbeats and every painful breath, wondering how many more he’d have before the wind froze him from the inside and winter claimed him.

      That’s what he’d done.

      The blonde at the lodge hadn’t been wrong, he’d just wanted her to be wrong. At least half an hour had passed since they’d started the trek to the third-closest abandoned silver mine, and they weren’t even halfway there yet. She should be getting Chelsea’s feet out of the water and bandaging them by now. He’d forgotten to tell her not to let Chelsea walk … though maybe she wouldn’t try.

      If they hadn’t had to take the long way they’d be there by now. But this was the safest route with the snow drifting the way it was.

      If the wind would just stop …

      The wet, blasting snow built a crust on his goggles, his eyes the only places not actively painful and cold from the wind. He shook his head, trying to clear the visor, but had to use his hand to scrape it off. He didn’t even want to see what was becoming of Max in the back. Snow stuck to his fur like nothing Anson had ever seen.

      The only thing he felt good about right now was leaving the four rescues with the hippie chick. Her choice of attire showed a distinct lack of common sense, but she’d picked up on his shoulder bothering him. She was perceptive and paying attention. And he’d seen her hug his frostbite patient. She cared. They’d be safe with her, especially considering the detailed instructions he’d given. She’d be watching them with an eagle eye for any slight changes. Getting Dupris should an emergency arise would be a simple enough task for anyone.

      His stomach suddenly churned hard, a split second before he felt an unnatural shifting of the snow beneath him.

      He reacted automatically, cutting sharply up the slope, and didn’t stop until the ground felt firm beneath him. Damned sliding snowdrifts.

      He’d only reacted in time because he’d been waiting for it to happen. After his harrowing experience, snow had become an obsession to him—learning the different kinds of snow, what made it slide, what made blizzards, all that. And since he’d bought Max and had him trained, he’d probably spent more time on the snow than anywhere else in his life. His instinct was honed to it, and he knew to listen to his gut.

      Especially when he couldn’t see the terrain well enough to judge with his eyes …

      But he couldn’t trust that his crew would have the same ability, especially with how tired they already were.

      Conditions had just officially gotten too bad to continue.

      His team had stopped when he’d pulled his maneuver—quickly enough to see how he’d survived it before they tried to follow—but he didn’t want them to try it. They’d follow where he led, but he couldn’t have any more lives on his conscience.

      Grabbing the flashlight off his belt, he clicked it on, assuring that they’d see the motion even if they couldn’t clearly see any other details, and gave it a swirl before pointing back in the direction from which they’d come.

      Retreat.

      He waited until they had all turned around and then started up the slope in a gentle arc to bring up the rear. Not ideal. The best formation had him at the front—taking the dangers first—but at least from this vantage he’d be able to see if anyone fell behind or started having difficulty.

      He felt shifting against the cage at his back. Max huddled behind Anson, strategically placing himself to get the least of the cold wind that blasted around his owner, even as the machine crept along.

      If it were just him, he’d stay out on the mountain, looking

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