Milo Bishop’s fingers ached as he scooped snow from the drift. Ripping off his gloves, he shoved his freezing hands into his coat beneath his armpits and scowled at the pitiful excuse for a snow cave. He glared up at the mountain slope that had bucked him from his skis like a wild mustang and thrown him down the steep rocky side. That rock he had grazed as he had crested the peak had popped out of nowhere.
He growled, forced his hands into his gloves, and attacked the drift again with the piece of bark he used as a shovel. If his brother Jase had just come like he said he would for their annual Thanksgiving ski, Milo’s mind wouldn’t have been distracted. He would’ve enjoyed the day in the backcountry instead of wondering if he’d survive the night. He shifted his position to get a better angle at the drift and pain ratcheted up his leg, causing him to buckle to the snowy ground.
“Aaagh! Stupid knee!” He chucked the piece of bark into the drift. “Stupid mountain!”
He lay in the snow, his eyes closed to the pain throbbing in his knee and embarrassment thrumming through his blood. It wasn’t his brother’s fault that Milo wasn’t paying attention. He should’ve known better than to come out alone. Heck, at the very least he should’ve replaced his pack when he’d busted the chest buckle instead of coming to the backcountry with broken gear. Then his pack wouldn’t have wrenched from his back when he’d crashed, and his predicament wouldn’t be so dire.
He tucked his hands under his arms and stared up at the clouds as they blew across the Colorado robin’s egg colored sky in a fast clip. The trees towering above him had darkened, the sun closer to the western horizon than he liked. Dusk would come quickly in the gulch’s bottom.
What had he been thinking? He’d been impulsive, giving in to the desire to be free to do whatever he wanted like his brother Jase did. He should’ve known being reckless would end badly for him.
Life only worked when he kept things under tight control, inhibiting his wants and emotions to do what needed to be done. He had lost his chance at off-the-cuff adventures when life had thrust him into manhood after his father’s murder. His mom and brother depended on him. What would happen if he froze out here because of his rash stupidity?
The image of his mom collapsing in exhaustion from working two jobs again had him gritting his teeth. It had broken his heart to watch her become a shadow of who she’d been before the murder, working eighty plus hours at minimum wage jobs while he and Jase were in high school. It was why he’d joined the force instead of going to college. Well, that and the burning desire to keep low-lifes like the one who’d killed his father off the streets.
It pinched that Jase got the carefree life Milo had thought he had wanted, screwing around at college and doing whatever he felt like while Milo struggled to keep their family afloat and his emotions under wrap. He hadn’t been able to brush off the weight of responsibility so easily. Hadn’t wanted his mom to struggle when he could help. Now, thanks to his carelessness, he may have put his mom back where he’d worked so hard to pull her from.
He groaned as he rolled over, careful to keep his weight off his knee, and stared up the slope. Could he find some kind of crutch and make his way to wherever his fall had buried his pack? He shook his head. Putting weight on his leg would likely result in another tumble down the hill. Maybe crawling would be a better option?
A strong wind whipped through his coat with what sounded like his name floating on it. He scanned the area, as if someone else would be crazy enough to be out here in the middle of nowhere. Great. Not only was he stranded in the snow without a pack, but now he was hearing things.
He took one last fleeting look up the slope towards where he thought his pack might be, then turned back to digging out a shelter for the night. He doubted there was time to climb up to his gear and back down before darkness fell, so whatever measly shelter he could scrap from the snow would have to suffice.
He went back to digging, the grating noise and his choppy breaths loud in his ears. He’d make it through the night. He might lose toes and fingers to frostbite, but he’d survive until someone showed up to rescue him.
Which would be better to lose, toes or fingers? He grimaced. Most women he knew would balk at a three-fingered man, but toes he could hide. Not that he had any desire for a relationship right now, anyway. He had to get Jase through college before he could even think about his next phase in life. He had it all planned out, though. Once Jase graduated, Milo could start looking for a wife.
His hands stung, and he shook them out. He’d probably be better staying a bachelor with his line of work. He never wanted to leave a wife struggling like his mom had had to.
He snorted. He hadn’t had a date, let alone a girlfriend since his sophomore year in high school. Now he was contemplating marriage? The cold was messing with his mind.
The rush of feet dashing across the snow whipped him around to the next disaster in his misadventure. Freezing to death sounded better than being mauled and eaten. A large dog with a pack harnessed on its back careened towards Milo, its tongue hanging out the side of a mouth that appeared to be smiling. The beast landed on his chest, knocking him back into the snow. Its entire body wagged as it licked Milo repeatedly on the face.
He laughed at his futile attempt to push the dog off. “Okay. You found me.”
How had search and rescue already been called out? They shouldn’t have even worried until the next morning. Sure, he hadn’t contacted his mom to check in like he said he would. Did she think so little of his abilities she had already sent out the cavalry? Milo pushed at the dog. How humiliating.
“Scout, for goodness sakes, let the man breathe.” A woman’s exasperated voice pulled both Milo and the dog’s attention to the path the dog had come from.
Scout pushed off Milo’s chest and careened towards the woman. The force snapped his head back against the snow, and a new pain exploded through his brain. Milo squeezed his eyes shut. Just great. Frozen fingers and an aching head. The crunching of snow and a plop beside him had him squinting one eye open against the throbbing ache.
“Milo.”
His name puffed from the woman in obvious relief, filling the air with the scent of peppermint. Was she some kind of Christmas angel? Her blonde hair poked out of her stocking cap and framed cheeks pink with cold. She was small. If he could stand without buckling to the earth, she probably wouldn’t even come up to his armpit. He peeked back the way she had traveled from, but the area was empty. What was this tiny, beautiful woman doing out here alone?
She tore her glove off with her teeth and slid her warm fingers down his cheek before taking his wrist and checking his pulse. Would she realize his pounding heart was because of her soft touch and not her dog’s trample? Her light brown eyes held such worry he wondered if he was closer to dying than he thought.
“Milo, are you okay? Can you talk to me?” Her questions snapped him back to reality.
“Yeah. I’m fine.” He groaned through gritted teeth, pushing himself up to sit.
Just great. Not only had he been an idiot going on this harebrained ski ill-equipped, but it appeared his embarrassment would be complete with a goddess rescuer. That’s it. No more risky adventures. No more impulsive decisions. He peeked at the gorgeous woman next to him. It only resulted in trouble.