“I’m seeing which are the driest and spreading them out so they’ll dry faster. I’ll put the driest in the stove tonight while we sleep so they’ll burn and create more heat. Wet wood doesn’t create as much heat.”
“I see.” She shrugged. “I'm not the greatest with small talk.”
“I think you doing okay.”
“I'm used to people calling me in crisis situations. I'm used to asking detailed questions about bleeding and wounds and passing out and oh, you know what I mean. But I don’t know anything about being a survivalist or scientists. Do you travel a lot for your work?”
“For the most part. I don’t stay in one place very long. But I'll be here in the Rocky Mountains for at least a couple years with the work I'm doing now.”
“Dare I ask what you're doing up here? Or is that going to go too far over my head?”
He chuckled. “It’s not that technical at all. But unless you’re an insomniac and need to fall asleep, you probably don’t want to hear about. I find that once I get started talking about my job people tend to nod off. I've been told I should bottle a few speeches and give them away as sleep aids.”
She chuckled.
“I'm surprised you're up here alone. Don't geologists normally work in teams? I mean, I don’t know that much about that sort of thing. Or anything at all. But I’ve seen some people from the Environmental Agency come through town.”
“Some do.” He shrugged. “Most do. But I'm more of a scout these days.”
She frowned. “Scout for what?”
“Changes in environmental activity. Shifting of the earth’s plate. Signs that there may be volcanic activity that is unusual.”
“There are lots of people who work in Yellowstone and all the Rocky Mountains that do that kind of work. Isn't it kind dangerous for you to be working out here alone?”
His voice lowered just a bit as he sat down on the sofa, abandoning his log sorting. “No more dangerous than if I was with the team. If something is going to happen, it'll happen whether I'm with the whole group of geologists or if I am by myself.”
She thought about it for a minute. “Sure, but something happens to you out in the wilderness there won't be anybody there to help you.”
He grinned if you could really call it that. It was more of a half grin that was somewhat cute and super sexy at the same time. “That's where the survivalist part comes in. I'm used to working alone. I know how to take care of myself. I can even sew up a wound and perform some minor surgery if I have to.”
He laughed at the face she made.
“My knees are getting weak just thinking about the possibilities. I'm totally grossed out with the image of doing self-surgery.”
“Luckily it’s not something I’ve had to do.”
He looked around the cabin and seemed completely at home. Maybe even more so than she was, which was odd.
“Your grandmother said you mostly rent out the cabin these days. Your family doesn't really come up here anymore?”
“We don’t. We used to when I was a kid.”
“What made you stop? This place is great.”
“Memories can be painful,” she said quietly.
His expression changed to one of concern.
She hesitated a minute remembering her thoughts earlier. She was never good at talking about her parents deaths. And knowing how close she came to going over the side of the cliff on the mountain road only brought her memories back to the forefront of her mind. “I haven’t been up here since my parents died.”
“I'm sorry that I made you visit a painful memory.”
“It was a long time ago. Sometimes it feels like yesterday. I don't think death is something people ever get over no matter how much time passes.”
His eyes grew dark. “I think you’re right,” he said as if he had some experience with it himself.
Everyone did. It was hard to escape the pain of losing someone you loved.
“We don’t have to talk about it.”
She smiled weakly. They couldn’t ignore the obvious. “I know this stove pumps out some good heat, but it’s going to get cold during the night. One sleeping bag?”
“Unfortunately, just the one. You are welcome to it,” he said with a shrug.
“A gentleman. That’s nice. But I can’t take it from you. I’m the one who forgot the blankets. I can sleep here on the sofa and just cover myself with my jacket.”
He frowned. “You were in an accident. You have a head wound and most likely a few more bruises. You’re body temperature is already lowered from being in shock and being out in the cold. I insist you take the sleeping bag. It’s warm.”
He stood up and put his hands in front of the wood stove.
“It’s getting hotter,” he said. “I’ll get a few buckets of snow and put them on the stove to heat up. Then we can clean up that wound on your head.”
He was scrutinizing the spot on her head that she’d felt was sticky and bloody earlier.
“Does it look that bad?” she asked.
He shook his head. “You have a good lump and it will hurt for a bit, but it doesn’t need stitches.”
Her eyes widened as she peered up at him.
He grinned back at her. “Don’t worry. I wasn’t going to get out a needle and thread. Unless I really had to.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll be back in a few minutes. Do you know where there might be a few buckets or pans?”
Harper turned as Nash walked to the kitchen area and started opening cabinets. “No buckets. But there are two big pots in the last cabinet by the stove.”
He found them quick enough and held them in his hand. “I’ll just be a minute.”
He opened the door and a flurry of snow whooshed inside the room.
“This storm is starting to be a doozy,” he said. “How good is this roof? I didn't have a chance to check it out when I first got here.”
She
