Shelter: A Heroes Of Big Sky Novel

by Kristen Proby

  I cock my head to the side, watching my friend. “Is something going on with you two besides the working relationship?”

  “No.” He sips his beer. “She drives me nuts. Hardheaded, that’s what she is.”

  “And you’re the picture of grace and patience. Not to mention flexibility.”

  “Fuck you.”

  I laugh, but then I’m pushed forward when someone stumbles into me from behind.

  “Oh, God, I’m sorry.”

  I turn, glance down, and feel my heart lurch.

  Big, blue eyes.

  No, not blue.

  Lavender.

  “I think I spilled beer on your shoes.” The petite woman with the purple eyes cringes and reaches for a pile of napkins. “I’m never this clumsy. I tripped on that barstool. I’m really sorry. I’ll pay for your shoes if you want.”

  “It’s fine.” I touch her shoulder before she leans over to dab at my feet. “Really, it’s fine.”

  She blows out a breath, and my dick twitches at the sight of those plump lips.

  Jesus, the woman is beautiful.

  “You’re not from here,” I say and gesture for her to sit on the stool.

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because I’d remember that gorgeous face.”

  A smile flirts with her lips, and a single dimple creases in her right cheek. “No. I’m just in town for a couple of weeks.”

  Before she can turn and walk away, I think fast. I don’t know what it is about this girl, but I want to hang out with her. Get to know her a bit.

  Kiss those delectable lips.

  “Want to dance?” I ask and point to the live band up on stage.

  “Oh. Uh, sure. I guess.”

  I take her hand in mine and wink at Gage before leading her out onto the dance floor. Her hand is dainty, but her grip is strong.

  When we start to move, her body glides effortlessly. Her brown hair is up off her neck, and she’s in a tank top that shows off the definition of muscle in her arms and shoulders.

  She’s in excellent shape.

  And her jeans mold to her ass perfectly.

  When one song ends and bleeds into a slow song, I pull her to me, and we move lazily around the space.

  She has her nose pressed to my shoulder.

  Her breasts push against my chest.

  I’ve never been so turned on by a woman after only five minutes.

  I glance up and see Gage waving at me. He’s headed out.

  I nod in reply.

  I’ll call him later.

  When the song is over, and with my entire body humming, I escort her back to where I was sitting with Gage.

  “You’re a good dancer,” she says.

  “All the better for holding gorgeous women.” I wink and then laugh when she just raises a brow. “Okay, that was cheesy. But it was nice to touch you.”

  “Are you always this forward?” she asks.

  “No, actually. What’s your name?”

  “Remi. And you?”

  “Seth.” I shake her hand. Rather than letting go, I link my fingers with hers and bring them up to my mouth so I can kiss her knuckles.

  She grins and doesn’t pull away.

  “Remi is a beautiful name.”

  “Thanks. So, are you from here?”

  “Yes.” I don’t count the years that I spent with Kensie. “Where are you from?”

  “Southern California, originally. I’ve been doing some traveling, and I heard this part of the country is beautiful. So far, they’re right.”

  “It’s a little late in the season.”

  It’s mid-September. Most of the summer activities are closed for the upcoming winter.

  “I like to travel when fewer people are around. And I lucked out because the weather has been great. I’m living the van life, and Montana is perfect for it.”

  She frowns as if she just realized that she shouldn’t tell a stranger that she’s living in a van.

  God, I want to kiss her.

  “We could get snow by the weekend.”

  She laughs and shakes her head. “Yeah, right. It’s September.”

  “In Montana,” I remind her. “Could happen.”

  “How do you know?” Her eyes narrow, and she leans on the tall table to her right. “Are you a weatherman?”

  “No.” I laugh and have to curb the impulse to reach out and touch her. “I’m a ranger up in the park, and we’ve seen snow earlier than this up there. The weather reports are calling for a chance of snow in the higher altitudes.”

  “But, it’s just a chance. It probably won’t.” She shrugs and frowns at her drink. “I’m not drinking this. I left it alone for too long.”

  “Good call. I’ll go get us some fresh drinks. Do you want the same beer?”

  “That would be great.”

  “You stay here. I’m not done with you yet.” I point at her, grin and make my way to the bar. The line is long, and by the time I get the two bottles, it’s been at least ten minutes since I walked away from Remi.

  When I return to our seats, they’re empty.

  But on the small table is a note.

  Seth-

  Sorry. I just can’t.

  R

  I take a swig of the beer and swear under my breath.

  Just my luck. The first woman I’ve been truly interested in in a long time, and she ghosts me.

  I set the bottles on the high-top and rack the balls on the table.

  If I can’t flirt with a beautiful woman, I might as well work on my pool game so I can kick Gage’s ass the next time I see him.

  Chapter 2

  ~Remi~

  Cunningham Falls, Montana isn’t what I expected it to be when I set off in my van two months ago. I put Los Angeles in my rearview, excited for some new adventures all on my own and without a camera crew in my face.

  And I looked forward to coming to northwest Montana the most, but I thought I’d be in the boonies. That there may not be electricity everywhere and that people would ride on horses way more than I’ve seen in the four days I’ve been in town. There are plenty of mountains that look like a traveler’s postcard and wide-open spaces, though. I can’t stop staring at the views.

  But while I don’t have the best cell service, that seems to be the only inconvenience I’ve found so far. Given that I’d rather never see social media again in my life, I’m not sad about it.

  Surprisingly, this little mountain town is modern with all of the conveniences I love in the city, including a gorgeous yoga studio, plenty of delicious restaurants, and a farmer’s market that had me longing for my gourmet kitchen in my apartment in California.

  My former apartment, that is.

  I gave that up, along with my car and most of my belongings so I could live the travel-van life. And until I saw the produce at last night’s farmer’s market, I haven’t regretted it at all. I have to admit, even the thought of making fresh marinara isn’t enough for me to go back to my old life. I have a stove in the van, I can make it work if I really want.

  Given that the busy tourist season recently ended, I found a great RV park on the outskirts of town that had room for me, and the nice owners told me I could stay for as long as I want.

  Right now, I’m paying weekly.

  I don’t have a schedule. I don’t have a plan.

  And after so many years of tight deadlines and every minute scheduled down to the second, I like it this way.

  Early mornings are my favorite time of day, no matter where I am, but it’s quickly become even more so the case here in this little town. Autumn is settling in, adding a crispness to the air—especially early in the day.

  The sliding door of my van is open, and I’m sipping coffee as I listen to the birds and watch the sky turn from gray to blue.

  The campground is quiet. The few others here must still be sleeping.

  Today is my relaxation day. I’ve been driving or hiking every day for several weeks, so I decided that now is a
good time just to be. Which isn’t easy for me. I don’t like sitting around. Being lazy is not my thing. I wish I could relax, but it always feels like I’m wasting time when I do. That I could be accomplishing something productive.

  Today, I plan to ride my bike the mile into town, get breakfast, then stop at the store for some of my favorite snacks. And then, come hell or high water, I’m going to take a nap, watch a movie, and maybe even read a book.

  I have the hiking guide for Glacier National Park that I bought a year ago when I first thought about this adventure, and it’s probably best that I at least plan out the hike I want to take tomorrow.

  So, with that decided, I drink the last of my coffee.

  If I relax today, I can hike tomorrow.

  It’ll be my reward.

  I tuck my wallet into the bag on my bike, make sure the van is locked up tight, and set off for the little deli I found on the main drag in town.

  It’s literally called Little Deli.

  Cunningham Falls has a quaint downtown that’s about three city blocks long. That’s it. And it’s damn adorable. I bet it looks like a Hallmark movie in the winter.

  I lean my bike against a post on the sidewalk and don’t even bother locking it up before stepping inside Little Deli. They serve amazing sandwiches and soups in the afternoon, but in the morning, it’s my own private slice of Heaven.

  “Good morning,” the woman behind the counter says with a smile. “What can I get for you today?”

  She’s in here every day, and I’d say she’s in her early forties, with just a couple of gray strands in her shoulder-length dark hair. She has kind eyes and a pretty smile.

  I place my order for scones, a cheese-and-turkey-stuffed croissant, and another coffee, then sit at a table with my treats. I like to sit in the corner so I can people watch as I eat.

  So far, the people here in town have been super nice. And last night, when I decided to go out for just one beer, I met Seth.

  I sigh at the memory of that tall, handsome drink of water, who had his hands all over me and definite interest in his big, brown eyes.

  He was damn tempting.

  But I’m not here for that.

  “Can I get you anything else, dear?”

  I smile at the nice woman and shake my head. “No, thanks. This is great.”

  It’s still early enough on this Saturday morning that as I leave the deli and ride toward the grocery, few cars are out and about. There’s a stillness in the air, contentment that feels comforting.

  No, this place isn’t at all what I expected, but I like it. I like it a lot.

  “Bear spray,” I mutter and clamp the red can with the huge grizzly on the side to my belt. I have plenty of snacks in my pack, along with water, ultra-light trekking poles, extra socks, and a rain slicker rolled up at the bottom.

  I went to an outdoor adventure store yesterday and picked up a survival straw to help filter water if I need it, and a fire striker in case I have to start a fire.

  I definitely won’t need any of the extra survival stuff. I’m way overprepared, and I don’t love that I’m carrying the extra weight, but I’m also hiking alone, and it’s better to be safe than sorry—even if it is only a fifteen-mile trek through the mountains. Compared to some of the hikes I’ve done in the past, this is an easy, eight-hour day. In and out. But according to all of my research, I’m promised some amazing views, a glacier, and hopefully some wildlife.

  “Just not hungry bears,” I say out loud as I lock up the van and head off for the trailhead. “Any wildlife but hungry, carnivorous ones, thanks.”

  The first part of the hike is all uphill. I’ll gain about four thousand feet in elevation.

  But that means it’s all downhill on the way back when I’m starting to fatigue.

  The trail is well-traveled and marked so I can just relax and enjoy.

  “What a beautiful place,” I say to myself. I’ve made it a habit of talking to myself when I hike so I don’t surprise any animals. “I don’t know if I’ve ever felt so calm. So at peace. Certainly not in a long, long time.”

  My heart rate climbs, and my breath gets choppier as I ascend deeper into the park. I’m so lost in my thoughts that it takes me a few minutes to realize that little white flakes have begun to swirl around me.

  I frown and blink. “Snow? It’s freaking September.”

  And then I remember what the sexy Seth said to me the other night.

  We could get snow by the weekend.

  “I’ve never been anywhere, aside from Peru, where it snows in September.” I look up at the sky and sigh, then check my GPS.

  I’m almost six miles in.

  “I’m not turning back now,” I say and keep moving forward. “I want to see this chalet that people hike up to in the summer, and I’ll be damned if I don’t make it farther up to the glacier. It’s Glacier National Park, for the love of Moses. I’m going to stand on a glacier.”

  It’s been on my bucket list for years.

  The flakes start to fall faster, harder. They’re big and fluffy, and I have to stop to wipe my face.

  I wish I’d brought my gaiter to keep the cold droplets from falling down my neck.

  Also…it’s cold up here. Colder than I expected.

  I’m wearing thick pants to protect my legs from thorny bushes and am in a long-sleeved shirt, but aside from my rain slicker, I don’t have outerwear to protect me from a winter storm.

  I stop to catch my breath and take stock of my surroundings. It’s gone quiet. No birds sing. No critters skitter around in the trees.

  That’s a bad sign.

  A bad, bad sign.

  “Damn it,” I mutter and rub my nose. If the map is right, I’m less than a mile from the chalet. Of course, it’s closed for the season, so I can’t take shelter there.

  “The glacier is another couple of miles after that,” I continue, just before the wind picks up and slaps me in the face with its cold, bitter hand. “Shit. I have to go back.”

  I turn, look at the trail that leads down, and scowl. The snow is falling so thickly now, I can’t even make out the path. I know to walk downhill, but it’ll be hard to move quickly if I can’t see the damn route.

  If I keep going to the chalet, I could hunker down against the outside of the building, but if it continues to snow—and gets colder—I could freeze.

  “Maybe I can break out a window and slip inside.”

  I chew on my lip. I have to make up my mind, or I’ll freeze to death right here, and then I will end up as bear food.

  That’s not a pleasant thought.

  “You didn’t listen.”

  I spin at the voice and goggle as Seth moves quickly up the path and through the snow.

  “Are you a hallucination?”

  “No, damn it. I told you we’d get snow.”

  “It’s September,” I reply, suddenly feeling immense relief that he’s here. My knees threaten to buckle, and I want to cry.

  “No time to argue,” he says. “Are you hurt?”

  “No.”

  “Good. Let’s go.”

  Seth takes my hand and leads me up the path, away from the direction of my van. The pace is brutally fast, the wind merciless against my face, but I keep up with him, running on the trail that he seems to know so well.

  At last, through the thick veil of snow, I see the outline of a huge building.

  “We’re going in!” Seth yells back at me and leads me to a door. He fiddles with some keys, and the next thing I know, he pulls me into the shelter and slams the door behind us.

  It’s dark inside because the place has been closed up for the winter, but Seth has a flashlight.

  “There’s no electricity,” he says, his voice sharp in the cold room. “No water services. But we’re not in the snow.”

  “How did you find me?”

  He turns those dark eyes on me. He looks so mad.

  “I was patrolling the area and saw your van at the trailhead. I remembered that you sa
id you were coming up here to hike, and I knew this storm was moving in and that you’d get caught in it, so I hiked up to get you.”

  “You hiked almost seven miles just to warn me about the storm?”

  He blinks at me and then shakes his head. “No, I hiked almost seven miles to freaking get you out of this storm so you don’t freeze to death, Remi. Which is exactly what was about to happen. Now, we’d better get a move on lighting a fire and getting some heat in here, or we’ll meet the same fate. And I’ll be damned if I go out like that.”

  The room we’re in is a big, open space with tables and chairs set up restaurant-style. There’s also a desk—I assume for visitors checking in. A huge fireplace takes up most of the far wall, where Seth is currently stacking firewood.

  “I have a starter,” I announce and pull my pack off my back. “I brought one with me, just in case.”

  He merely holds out his hand, and I pass the tool over, watching as Seth expertly lights the fire. With the flames to light the room, he switches off the flashlight to conserve its battery life.

  For the first time since I saw that first flake, I take a long, deep breath.

  “Thank you,” I say at last.

  “Do you always brush off the experts when they give you advice?” he asks and folds his arms over his chest.

  “Honestly, I didn’t think there was any way it would snow. It seems early in the season.”

  “Are you an expert on Montana, then?”

  I feel my cheeks heat and turn away from him. “Look, I get it. I’m an asshole. I should have listened. And because I didn’t, I almost killed myself and put you in danger, too. I’m sorry, okay? I feel foolish and irresponsible, and I’m never those things when it comes to adventuring.”

  He blows out a breath, pushes his hands through his hair, and licks his lips.

  “Okay. Okay, I hear you. The storm is supposed to hang around for about twelve hours. We have to settle in and ride it out here. I was able to radio to the office and let the rangers there know that I was headed up here to help you. I told them I’d bring you up to the chalet and that we’d wait here until the storm passes.”

  “So, no one is going to panic when you don’t get back today?”

  “No.” He takes his pack off his back and sets it next to mine. “I don’t have much in here for food. I do have some water, though.”