Exposed : My Mountain Man Protector(8)

“Okay…”



“Yes.”



I shot him a look. “We are going to be stuck here together for a while, you know. Getting along wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”



He met my glare with one of his own and then said, “I was born and raised in Denver, Colorado. I was raised by TV and nannies who assured me that my parents loved me, that they were constantly out of the house, running around spending money, because they loved me. By the time I was old enough to leave, I did. I left the money they threw at me to follow them scurrying around society’s hamster wheel of success. I went to my grandad’s, in Denver, and then he died, and I came here, his cabin where he’d take us for vacation sometimes. I’ve never looked back and I never will. I think that life, that materialistic emptiness of striving for goals that are ever out of reach—society’s whole hollow rat race—is disgusting.”



He met my eye, and then his gaze switched to where he’d directed his diatribe: the glittery “G” of my Guess T-shirt, the black one Angelo had bought for me to parade around in.



“Sounds like you’re pretty bitter,” I said.



“Forgive me,” he snapped back. “I came here to escape people like you, so forgive me if I’m a bit upset that the next few weeks are going to be dedicated to getting you out of whatever mess you’ve gotten yourself into.”



I stood up and declared, “You don’t know anything about me.” Then I stormed off.



The way I was headed didn’t look like the same path we’d been on, but I didn’t care. I’d have rather gotten lost and died in these stupid mountains than spent another second with that pompous jerk.



“Claire! Claire!”



I ignored Blake, but then he ran up right in front of me.



“Are you coming?” he asked.



As I glared at him, at his angry blue eyes, I realized why I was so angry at him: It was because he was right. I had gotten myself into this mess. And, if these past few days were any indication, if I was going to get myself out of it, I was going to have to put my pride away for a second and do some things I didn’t like—including sticking with this uncongenial but knowledgeable jerk.



“Fine,” I said. As he strode on, I followed him without another word.



We walked along in silence, which suited me just fine.



Surviving was hard enough as it was. With every step, my legs ached more, and my feet found their footing more and more clumsily, as if I were stepping on quicksand instead of dirt and grass. What complicated things was that we were not on a trail anymore. We were making our own trail, cutting through trees, shrubs, and tall grasses alike. Passing through this field was akin to a massacre. Every step we took, little moths and insects of all types threw themselves out of our path to save themselves.



When I tried going slower, Blake didn’t adjust his pace. I didn’t bother to ask for another break. Already I could see there was no going slower, no stopping. There was only continuing on and on and on until we were there, wherever that was.



“We’ll be at the ranger’s station in just a couple more hours now,” he said at some point.



I tried to make his revelation that it was only a couple of hours as opposed to a day away cheer me up, but I was too tired to even smile. Every breath had become a wheeze. It was at the worst possible time too. We had started up an incline, where the grass was slick, presumably from rain.



“Careful,” Blake said to the air ahead of us.



I responded by stumbling on nothing and tumbling down the way we’d come. Tree roots, grass clumps, dandelions—everything I grabbed at to stop my fall snapped off in my hands. I tumbled until my head slammed into a bank of dirt and everything went black.





CHAPTER SIX





When I opened my eyes, I was moving, though my legs weren’t. Overhead, clouds swooshed by, and off to the side was Blake’s determined face.



He was carrying me, his face as smooth and casual as if he were carrying a package of bread and not a full-grown woman.



“Sorry,” I told his blond beard.



“It’s fine,” he said. Then: “I’m sorry too, for what I said before. You just…remind me of someone, someone I’d like to forget.”



“It’s okay,” I said.



I didn’t want to press it further; we did hardly know each other, and I didn’t want to have to share my story either.



Blake seemed to appreciate my silence and finally asked me, “Want a piggyback instead? We’re almost there, but this way you’ll get to see a bit more of the scenery.”