Page 7 of Snowed In with her Mountain Men

CAMRYN

“ This is your car?” Ryder asked, flipping open the hood. “Seriously?”

Shivering against the cold, I tried not to show weakness or indignation. Nelly was my baby, and the only actual possession I owned right now. She represented my freedom, and reminded me of warm, sun-kissed skies. The old girl had come a long way with me. Even if, right now, she wouldn’t start.

“Where the hell did you get it?”

I rolled my eyes and sighed. “Florida.”

“Did you winterize it?”

Wrapping my arms around each other, I shook my head. “What’s that?”

Ryder grunted, and his head disappeared beneath the hood. He did a few man-things, touching and tugging on various parts and wires. When he finally looked up again, his expression was even more grim.

“This thing’s old to begin with,” he explained, patting the fender. “It spent its entire life in heat and humidity, then you brought it up here to the freezing, dry mountain air.”

“So?”

“So, every one of your gaskets cracked.” He shook his head solemnly. “They probably screamed, too. That’s why you’ve been in and out of the repair shop.”

“Oh.”

“When’s the last time you started it?”

I shrugged. “Had to be four days ago. Almost, anyway.”

Ryder slammed the hood and rubbed his gloves together. “Well up here you need to start it every day. Two days, at most.”

It had been half an hour since we climbed into the monstrosity the boys called the Marauder.

The huge, olive green truck looked — and likely was — straight out of the military, just as they were.

It sat so high off the ground, I almost needed a ladder to get in.

But of course, it was totally fucking amazing on the icy roads.

“And look at these tires,” Ryder said, brushing the powder from one. “You need snow tires. Chains too, if you’re coming up this far. Your dickhead landlord didn’t tell you that?”

“No,” I admitted, fighting off a shiver. “I’ve been in and out of town, working shifts at the diner. When the weather picks up, I just take things slow.”

“Smart move,” he acknowledged. “Still, you’re lucky you haven’t skidded off a road yet. These things are balder than Jaxon’s mom.”

At that, a laugh rose up from behind us, muffled by the snow. Oakley was just finishing up shoveling a path from the Marauder to the cabin. Jaxon however, hadn’t waited. A pair of his giant bootprints already led to the broken front door.

But there were other, smaller prints too. These crisscrossed the drifting snow, and my eyes followed them into the forest in multiple directions.

“Are those—”

“C’mon,” said Ryder, sliding an arm around my waist. “Let’s go assess the damage.”

We walked together as he guided me, single file down Oakley’s narrow path. The footing was icy, so I stayed focused. But I remained just as hyperaware of the two strong, protective hands that had found their way to my hips.

I didn’t exactly hate it, mind you.

“Hold up.”

Jaxon appeared in the doorway, fiddling with one of the broken hinges. He looked dismal.

“I’m not sure she should come in here,” he said awkwardly. “Not now, anyway.”

My stomach sank. “And why not?”

Beneath his beard, I saw his jaw tighten. “Because it’s a mess.”

I surged forward and pushed past him, into the cabin I’d called home for the past few months. I hadn’t taken two steps when a violent stench assailed my nostrils, rolling over me in a living, breathing wave.

“Unghh!”

I grabbed for my nose, and fought the urge to gag.

“What the hell is it?” I choked.

Jaxon set his hands on his hips and sighed. “Wolves.”

The others pushed inside, their faces soon registering similar levels of shock and nausea.

The cabin itself was a total disaster, with piles of snow drifting in from the broken door.

The little fridge I’d been relying on was spilled on it’s side, with remnants of food strewn everywhere.

Even worse, the back corner I’d been using to store all my non-perishables had been completely torn apart.

Wrappers, flavor packets, tins and pouches — all of it was torn, shredded, or chewed open.

“Well… shit.”

The deeper I went, the worse the stench seemed to get. The smell was so overwhelming at one point, I almost threw up.

“What is that?” I choked, holding my nose. “Urine?”

“Yes,” agreed Oakley. “They got in here and marked their territory. But then… something else happened. Something worse.”

“Worse than wolves?” I blinked.

Ryder nodded, his eyes watering. “Skunk.”

I wandered numbly, in disbelief. Everything I had, everything I owned; all of it was destroyed, shredded, torn to pieces.

Even my cute little bed looked like someone had tossed a grenade into it.

Something caught my eye, glinting on the floor, and my breath caught in my throat as I saw my bracelet.

I picked it up quickly, inspecting it for damage.

The clasp had opened again. Probably when I’d wrestled with my asshole landlord.

Then I remembered the fireplace.

No …

I ran over, and there it was: my laptop. Or rather, what was left of it. The once sleek and beautiful machine I’d hoped to write and publish my first novel on was little more than a twisted, blackened mess.

“Shit, Camryn,” said Oakley. “I’m sorry.”

My shoulders slumped. I let the machine clatter back to the floor.

“It’s gone,” I sighed hopelessly. “Everything. All of it. There’s nothing left.”

I kicked an empty container of dehydrated ramen in frustration. The noodles were gone. Even the flavor pack was missing.

“Where are your things?” asked Jaxon.

“My what?”

“Your clothes,” he pointed. “Personal items. Toiletries. Gather them up, anything you can salvage.”

I looked around again, scanning the apocalyptic landscape that was once my cabin. Eventually, I scrunched my nose at him. “Really? After all this?”

Jaxon coughed and shrugged. “There’s always the laundromat.”