Stranded with the Mountain Man (Log Cabin Christmas)

Chapter One

Charlotte

I crouch low in the snow, the cold biting through my thick coat, but I hardly feel it. My focus is entirely on the trees overhead. I’ve spent weeks tracking this bird, and this is my last chance to get the shot.

The Great Gray Owl has to be here. I adjust my camera, squinting through the lens as the snow swirls around me. My breath fogs the air in front of me, my fingers numb inside my gloves, but I can’t give up now, can I?

Still, worry floods my body. I probably should’ve paid more attention to the weather forecast, but when you get a tip about a Great Gray Owl sighting this close to Bearclaw Ridge, you don’t sit back and wait for better weather. That rare shot could make my career, and I’d never forgive myself if I missed it.

Still, the blizzard warnings were clear. It wasn’t this bad two hours ago, and I told myself I could handle it. Now, I’m starting to regret that decision. The wind picks up, howling through the trees and throwing snow flurries into the air. I blink against it, trying to focus on the trees, but everything is becoming a blur of white.

I go over my options. I could go back right now or wait a little longer. Surely another half an hour isn’t going to change things?

I decide to stay and scan the treetops. But as the minutes drag on, it becomes harder to ignore the sinking feeling in my chest. My body trembles, partly from the cold but mostly from frustration. The owl isn’t here. I should’ve spotted it by now, its massive wingspan cutting through the dense pines. My heart sinks, realizing I might’ve wasted the day—and put myself in danger for nothing.

I sigh. It’s time to go back. I pack up my camera, tightening the straps of my gear and brushing snow off my knees. Turning around, I glance at the path I came from, but all I see is white.

The trail I followed a few hours ago is completely buried. I step forward, trying to retrace my steps, but everything looks the same. Every tree, every mound of snow, blurs together in the growing storm.

I can’t believe how fucking stupid I was coming here today despite the warnings. I know better than to put myself in dangerous conditions to get the perfect photograph. This isn’t my first time chasing a shot, and it sure as hell isn’t my first time dealing with working in bad weather—but I’ve never put my life on the line before. Not like this.

The wind howls louder, whipping through the trees and stinging my face with sharp flecks of snow. I blink, trying to keep my bearings, but it’s hopeless.

I turn in a slow circle, searching for a familiar landmark, anything to help me find the trail again, but there’s nothing but an endless sea of white in every direction.

My chest tightens as panic creeps in. Where’s the car? I was so sure it was behind that ridge on the south side of the mountain, but now I don’t even know which direction is south or north.

Don’t panic. Panicking won’t help you.

I repeat the words like a mantra, but it doesn’t help. My heart only pounds harder in my chest. I need to get out of here. Now.

With trembling hands, I pull my Garmin InReach from my pocket. Thank goodness this satellite communicator allows me to send messages, even when cell service is spotty. At least I can text someone for help. But as I look at the screen, my heart sinks—the signal icon is flickering. Shit. The heavy snow and wind are likely blocking the satellites I need.

I try to swallow the lump in my throat. This is not how I want to die. I’m only twenty-six, for goodness sake. I’ve still got my whole life in front of me! Why did I think my career was more important than protecting my life? I mean, if I’m dead, my career doesn’t mean a thing anymore.

I force my legs to move, pushing forward in what I hope is the right direction. Each step feels like a battle, and every time I sink into the snow, a fresh wave of panic washes over me. The cold seeps into my bones, and I know I can’t keep this up much longer.

I stop, trying to steady my breath, and check my InReach again, but the screen still mocks me. I should have prepared better. Should’ve listened to the warnings instead of ignoring them. I make myself a promise. If I survive this, I’ll never let my ambition cloud my judgment again.

I scan the horizon once more, my breath hitching in my throat as I see nothing but white. I think back to my training and remember the tips for situations like this. Stay calm, stay put if you’re lost, and conserve your energy. I need to make smart decisions, not panic-fueled ones.

I whip out my compass and decide to head south. It’s a gamble, but I’m running out of options. I trudge through the snow, losing my balance a few times because of the heavy winds. My breath comes out in sharp puffs, fogging up my glasses.

Tears stream down my face, but then I see it. A tiny wisp of smoke curling through the air. I squint. Is that truly smoke, or am I hallucinating?

I step toward the direction of the smoke, my feet sinking deep into the snow. My heart leaps as I finally see the outline of a log cabin. It’s small and rustic like it’s seen way better days, but smoke is coming out of the chimney. That means I’m not alone.

A wave of relief rushes through me, immediately followed by a surge of fear. What if the person inside has bad intentions? I could be walking straight into danger.

Then again, staying out here would mean certain death. The log cabin is my only option. I take a deep breath and approach with caution. My heart pounds as I peer through the frosted window. My breath fogs the glass, but as I wipe it away, I catch a glimpse of movement inside. A figure, tall and broad, moves with the kind of raw masculinity I’ve only ever seen in movies.

The man turns slightly, and I catch sight of his rugged features—a strong jawline covered by a big beard and wild dark hair that looks like it hasn’t seen a brush in days.

I should knock, but the idea of interacting with a stranger in a secluded cabin sends a fresh wave of panic through me. I glance over my shoulder. I can turn back into the storm and risk getting lost forever, or I can approach this stranger.

I take a deep breath and knock on the cabin door, the sound barely audible above the howl of the wind.

The door creaks open slowly, and the giant mountain man stands before me, his expression shifting from surprise to annoyance.

“What do you want?” he barks, his voice rough like gravel.

“I-I’m Charlotte,” I stammer, trying to keep my voice steady despite the fear creeping in. “I’m lost. Please, can you help me?”

He narrows his eyes, scanning me from head to toe, taking in my disheveled appearance. For a moment, he looks ready to slam the door shut, but something flickers in his gaze, and he sighs.

“Fine, but stay out of my way and don’t touch anything, okay?”

For a moment, I’m tempted to make a joke to lighten the mood and say something like, “Not even that muscled chest?” But he doesn’t look like someone I should mess with, judging by the way he’s scrutinizing me like I’m an intruder in his territory.

So I nod and cross the threshold, praying everything will work out fine.