Elisabeth Naughton - Hold On To Me

She could feel his stare piercing her flesh even if she couldn’t see him. No sound echoed in the room, nothing but the howling of the wind and storm outside, but with every passing second, she could feel the anger growing inside him, rolling off him in hot waves that drifted across the cool room, centered directly on her.

Long seconds passed, then finally, a low chuckle rumbled from across the room. “You really are the queen of mixed messages, you know that?”

Here it came. And boy, did she deserve it. “Mitch—”

“No, you know what? I get it.” Shuffling echoed. She couldn’t see what he was doing, but seconds later, the LED lantern flicked on, blinding her with the flash of light. She covered her eyes and looked away. A click echoed, and then the hum of the small heater filled the room, but it didn’t ease the chill sliding down Simone’s spine. “I always prided myself on being a pretty smart guy, but with you? Not so much. No more, though. I finally get what you’ve been trying to tell me the past six months.”

She hated that she was hurting him—again. Hated that she was in this position in the first place. Hated even more that her heart felt like it was breaking all over.

She never should have let Ryan and Kate convince her to come to Tahoe with him. Never should have thought they could just be friends. They’d never been just friends. They’d always been more. And she still wanted to be more, even knowing it could never happen. She swallowed the lump growing in her throat. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“No, you didn’t.” He tugged off the blanket and tossed it across the floor toward her. “It was all me. I’m the one who talked you into going out with me. I’m the one who pushed the relationship. I’m the one who dragged you all the way up this stupid mountain. You’re the one with the psycho past, but yeah… I take full responsibility.” He tugged his coat back on and zipped it up to his chin, then settled back against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. “I give up.”

Panic filled her chest and threatened to steal her breath. The same panic she’d felt the night she’d come back from the east coast and broken things off with him. Words hovered on her lips—apologies, excuses, the truth—but she couldn’t voice them. In the end, what difference would they make? They’d still be in the same place—his life in danger and her being the cause—and that wouldn’t change until she got out of his life for good.

She reached for the Mylar blanket at her feet, rubbing it between her fingers. Minutes ago, it had been warm and cozy. Not it just felt cold and alone. Like her.

“You’ll freeze to death,” she managed. “We still need to share the blanket.”

“I’ll survive.”

He’d pulled his hood up, closed his eyes, and leaned his head back against the wall, effectively dismissing her. And as his jaw flexed beneath the sexy stubble on his cheek, tears filled her eyes, making her feel like an even bigger louse. “Mitch—”

“It’ll be light in a couple of hours. After we get out of here, I’ll call Ryan and find out what his guy’s discovered. Either way, you don’t have to worry. You can stay at Kendrick’s. I’ll find somewhere else to go.”

That wasn’t what she wanted at all. The panic multiplied, sending a fierce shooting pain all through her chest. “You don’t have to leave.”

He laughed again, but the sound held zero humor. “I don’t particularly want to stay anymore. You win, Simone. I’m done.”

All Mitch wanted to do was get the hell off this mountain.

He packed up his gear in silence while Simone sat on the far side of the lookout, her knees pulled up to her chest, her knit hat tugged down low over her head. She hadn’t spoken much to him since it had grown light, and he hadn’t offered up any conversation either. Was he being an ass? Probably. Did he care? Not a bit. Last night was just one giant reminder that things between them were dead and buried, and the sooner he accepted that fact, the better off he’d be.

Latching his pack, he reached for her snowshoe—the one that had busted yesterday—and fixed the strap as best he could. He handed it to her. “Try to stay out of the powder with this one. Step where I step, and you should be fine.”

She accepted the snowshoe, her fingertips grazing his in the process, cold, hesitant, not a bit like the greedy hands that had fisted in his hair last night as she’d kissed him crazy. “Thanks.”

Not for kissing her. Not for making her feel anything. He was starting to wonder if the woman even had a heart.

Which was stupid because… He needed to stop thinking about her and pull his head out of his ass.

He pushed to his feet and slung his pack over his back. “Let’s go.”

The air was crisp when they stepped outside, chilling Mitch’s cheeks and causing ice crystals to catch in the scruff on his jaw. Three inches of new snow covered the ground, and he was thankful it wasn’t more. After latching on his snowshoes, he led the way down the hillside toward the car they’d parked at the gate. The two-mile trek was slow moving, and neither of them spoke, but it wasn’t nearly as much work—or as fun—as coming up. The only plus was that the lower they dropped in elevation, the easier it got thanks to the protection the trees provided from the stinging wind.

Simone didn’t speak, and once or twice he looked back to see she was doing exactly what he’d said—picking her way down the hill, stepping where he stepped, being careful she didn’t dislodge her snowshoe anymore. Occasionally she’d glance around, looking for that bear, he knew, but it didn’t amuse him like it had on the hike up. Instead, it pissed him off even more. He was done being such a pathetic schmuck. So he’d misread her in that safe room. There were worse things in life than being rejected.

He turned the corner and caught sight of the gate. It was closed, just as it had been before, but new snow littered the ground, covering everything in a fresh layer of white. Everything but their car.

Fuck. There were worse things than rejection.

Simone’s coat rustled next to him, followed by her heavy breathing. She drew to a stop at his side and fell silent.

“Um…” Her voice floated on the cool air. “Where’s the car?”

Frustration growing, Mitch moved around the Forest Service gate, rested his hands on his hips, and stared down at the fine powder. Tire tracks in the snow meant whoever had taken it had done it after the snow hit. Likely only hours ago.

“Mitch? Where’s the car?”

He turned a slow circle and looked around. A couple of footprints in the powder, but nothing more. “Gone.”

“What do you mean ‘gone’?” She moved around the gate.

“Gone as in… Someone stole it.”

Disbelief flooded her chocolate eyes. “All the way up here?”

“Yeah, all the way up here.”

Her dazed eyes scanned the area. “Who would do that?”

“Hikers most likely. Someone who’d parked below and was cold and didn’t want to keep going. Could be anyone really.”

“But…but we’re stuck.”

He hated that little edge of panic to her voice. Hated even more that it got to him. “We’re only about eight miles from the lake. Three at most to the highway.” He pulled out his phone. No service. Shoving it back in his pocket, he started walking and gestured for her to follow.

She hustled to keep up. “You’re not planning to walk all the way to the lake, are you?”

“Not all the way.” Just until he could get a signal and call Ford. Or catch a ride with someone heading toward Tahoe. But in his pissy mood, he didn’t feel like sharing much more. She didn’t want to share anything. Hell, two could play that game.

They followed the twisting road down the mountain. It wasn’t steep, but several times Mitch had to wait for Simone to catch up. Luckily, though, she didn’t complain once, and he had to hand it to her, for a city chick—for one he knew was still freaked about running into another bear—she was holding her own. And that fact didn’t turn him on, dammit. He was done being turned on by her.

The closer they got to the highway, the more signs there were that others had been in the area. Snowshoe markings, cross-country ski tracks, footprints. By the time they reached the parking lot, tracks were everywhere, and they found three other cars parked near the road. But no sign of their SUV.

Mitch pulled his glove off and reached for his cell in his pocket. His fingers felt like ice as they closed around the small device. Still no service. Frowning, he looked up and around and spotted a man loading cross-country skis in the back of his pickup.

“My feet are killing me.” Simone plopped down on a rock to remove her snowshoes.

“Stay here,” he said to her.

He crossed to the red Toyota and introduced himself. The guy looked to be in his late fifties, rugged, a total local. Said his name was Judd.

“Are you heading toward the lake or Truckee?” Mitch asked.

“Incline Village,” Judd answered. “Just got out for a few hours of fresh air before the missus puts me to work. She’s always got jobs for me around the house.”

He smiled and winked in a way that said you know what I mean? But Mitch found himself scowling instead of smiling back. No, he didn’t know what the guy meant. And he probably never would. After Simone, he couldn’t see himself getting involved with another woman. Short-term relationships were the only way to go. Less damage to his ego that way. Definitely safer for his heart.

“Our rig was stolen while we were off hiking. Any chance my”—shit, what did he call Simone?— “friend and I could get a ride into town?”