Up Close and Dangerous (Page 64)

They drank some water, then each had a bite of the remaining trail mix bar. They’d halved one of the bars that morning, and they’d agreed to slowly eat the other one during the course of the day, figuring their energy would flag more on the first day. As they went down in altitude and oxygen became more plentiful, theoretically they’d have more energy—theoretically. She hoped they were right, because so far everything had been a real struggle.

He said, “This is the fourth day, right?”

“Right.

“Counting from eight o’clock on the first day, which was when we took off, it’s now been seventy-six hours.”

She nodded. The first day, the day of the crash, didn’t count as a full twenty-four hours. Counting from the time they’d taken off, the first twenty-four hours had ended at eight a.m. on the second day. “I’m with you so far.”

“How long does the average date last? Four hours, maybe?”

“Four or five.”

“Okay, let’s say five hours. Seventy-six divided by five is the equivalent of…fifteen dates. If you divide it by four, we’re on our nineteenth date. Split the difference; we’re on our seventeenth date.”

“All right,” she said, amused by the inventiveness of his theory, whatever it was. “Seventeen dates, huh? We’re practically going steady.”

“Going steady, my ass. We’re on the verge of moving in together.”

She gave him a quick look to see if he was joking, but he was watching her with a steady determination that rocked her down to her boots. He was serious: he wanted more than she’d ever given anyone. He wanted more than sex. He wanted a commitment—and there was nothing in the world that terrified her more.

But he…he said he treasured her. Bailey couldn’t remember anyone ever, in her entire life, putting her welfare ahead of his, but that was what Cam was telling her.

“I can’t—” she began, intending to give him some excuse, whatever she could think of, as a reason for not becoming involved.

“You can,” he interrupted. “You’re going to. We’ll take things slow, ease you into the concept. I understand you’re dealing with childhood baggage, and that’s the kind that’s hard to unpack. But sooner or later you’ll trust me, and accept that someone cares about you.”

She wanted to tell him that wasn’t a problem. People had cared about her before. Logan cared about her. Jim had been fond of her. She had friends…well, she’d had some friendly acquaintances before she married Jim, but they’d distanced themselves from her so she supposed they hadn’t been real friends. Even her parents had cared about her, about all their children, though ultimately not as much as they cared about themselves.

She wanted to tell him all that. The words formed in her brain, but refused to form on her tongue. She would be lying. Trust was a problem. Her defense against people not caring about her was that she wouldn’t care first. In the don’t-care category, she was already ahead of everyone she met.

Except him. She couldn’t get away from him. She couldn’t forget about him, couldn’t not care about him.

And…he said he treasured her.

She looked into those sharp gray eyes, and felt the ground fall from beneath her. She was lost, utterly without defense against him. She burst into tears. “Oh, no,” she sobbed, mortified. “I can’t cry.”

“You could have fooled me.” He put his arms around her and held her close, rocking back and forth a little in comfort. “I think you’re doing a great job.”

He was overlooking the obvious. She pulled away and tried her best to suck it up, before she got into real trouble. “No, really. I’ll h-have ice on my face.”

“Betcha I could melt it,” he said, a slow smile curving his lips.

Damn him, she was in such trouble.

28

TO GIVE THEMSELVES ENOUGH TIME TO CONSTRUCT A sturdy shelter, they stopped for the day at three o’clock. They were still high in the mountains, at the mercy of icy winds, below-freezing temperatures, and possibly more snow, though the skies above were clear at the moment. Weather systems could arrive fast, and it wasn’t as if they had access to the Weather Channel to keep an eye on conditions. Another factor for stopping then was that they came across a large tree that had fallen across some boulders; the tree provided a ready-made central support, which saved a lot of work. If they continued on for another hour or so, they might not find anything as suitable.

Bailey was exhausted, but to her relief the altitude sickness hadn’t returned. Tomorrow, she thought, they could walk a little longer, a little farther—maybe. They were almost out of food, and when the last candy bar was gone, their energy would fast decline. They had to descend far enough to begin finding berries, nuts, edible leaves—anything—or their situation would rapidly worsen.

“I guess the first thing we do is build a fire,” she said, looking forward to the warmth and psychological lift.

“Tonight, anyway,” he said absently, looking out over the mountainous expanse. “After tonight, I’d rather save the juice for when we’re farther down, out of all this wind.”

She closed one eye, looking askance at him. That seemed like reverse logic to her. “Don’t we need a fire more now?”

“For warmth, yeah, but we survived without a fire for two nights, so we know it isn’t strictly necessary. I was thinking about using the fire to signal our location. We can’t do it now because the wind dissipates the smoke, and I’ll be damned if I’ve found any location that’s completely sheltered, considering how it swirls.”