TAKE A CHANCE (Chance Colorado Series) (24 page)

He remembered a shortcut or two to hasten his trek up the hill. At least, he hoped he could remember the way to find the shortcuts. They were his best hope for catching up with Allie. No matter. Shortcuts or no, if Allie had stayed anywhere close to the trail, he’d find her.

And when he did, he intended to give her a damn good piece of his mind for taking off into the wilderness like that all by herself.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Thunder rumbled in the distance and Allie halted her progress once more. The sky looked even more threatening than it had only minutes before.

“Just great,” she grumbled, taking a moment to lean against a big tree.

It wasn’t bad enough that her stomach was rumbling almost as loudly as the approaching thunder or that she was out of practice hiking in this altitude, leaving her with just about zero energy, or that she still hadn’t found Grainger. Now, on top of everything else, it was going to storm.

“Just freakin’ great,” she said, louder this time.

No doubt about it, before long she would be one miserable woman. Rain in the high country almost always meant a big drop in temperature, so these shorts that she’d been so pleased with herself for wearing were very quickly going to become something she wasn’t the least bit pleased to have worn.

She briefly considered turning around and trying to beat the approaching storm, but there was really no chance she could do that. So, since she hadn’t found the dog yet, and she was going to get wet no matter which way she went, she might as well keep going the direction she was headed.

She pushed off the tree and started forward again, glancing down in time to find another clump of fur snarled around another little bush. This was the fifth time she’d made such a find and, while it gave her hope she was still on the right trail to find Grainger, she was beginning to picture her mother’s little dog as being bald when she did finally catch up with him.

Her only consolation at this point was that a bald Grainger was going to be every bit as cold and miserable as she would be when those rains hit.

“Grainger!” she yelled for what felt like the millionth time.

She’d been at this for hours. If the coyotes didn’t finish off the contrary little half-bald furball, she just might be tempted to do it herself if she ever found him.

“When, not if,” she muttered, angry that she’d allowed doubt to creep into her thoughts.

She couldn’t afford to doubt her success now. Not with her mom counting on her to bring Grainger home, safe and sound.

Another boom of thunder rolled through the sky, and in the seconds of silence that followed the ominous noise, Allie could swear she heard something like a whimper.

“Grainger,” she called, more quietly this time. “You out here, baby dog?” It sure had sounded like him.

Slowly, she moved away from the trail, pushing through the thick underbrush with her feet, searching. If she ended up with ticks on her bare legs because of this, she was going to…

Another rumble of thunder, followed by another whimper. And a rustle in the underbrush just ahead.

Slowly, cautiously, she extended her walking stick to push aside the branches and leaves. There, in a small depression under a web-covered juniper bush, she found a bundle of shivering brown fur.

It would have to be a juniper, testing her last bit of reserve. She hated the spreading green spider-houses, hated the thought of having to reach her hands in there, but the little terrier obviously was in no shape to come out of his hiding place on his own.

Forcing back her own fears, she reached inside and snagged Grainger, pulling him out, expecting the worst. To have crawled off into a hole like that, he must be hurt.

He didn’t resist when she cuddled him close, but he was shaking like an aspen leaf on a windy day. Thunder rumbled once more and he shook even harder.

How could she have forgotten? This little guy was brave enough to face down a bull elk. He had, as a matter of fact, done exactly that years ago, chasing the massive beast right out of their yard. But thunderstorms? Thunderstorms terrified him senseless.

“We all have our failings, don’t we, big guy?” she soothed, scratching behind his ear as he pressed his body against her chest. “Don’t you worry. You’re okay. I’ve got you now and you’re going to be just fine. I’ll take care of you.”

“Really?” a deep voice rumbled from the trees behind her. “And just who is going to take care of you?”

* * *

The forest was no place to be with that storm so close, but it wasn’t like Logan had much of a choice. Tanner had said they were warning of heavy rain. Fingers crossed, that meant he could eliminate the worry of fires started by dry lightning. The regular stuff was dangerous enough. If he hurried, he might be able to make it to Harley’s hunting cabin before the worst of it hit. He just prayed that the hunting cabin was still standing after all these years.

Heading directly for the cabin would mean postponing his hunt for Allie. It would mean leaving her out here to face dropping temperatures and lightning strikes on her own, and that simply wasn’t acceptable.

In the distance he heard something he’d been hoping to hear for hours.

“Grainger!”

He’d found her. The shortcuts had worked.

Forging through the trees, he spotted her at last, off the trail, standing in underbrush up past her calves. Wearing shorts.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he muttered.

For a woman who’d been born and raised in these mountains, she sure didn’t seem to have the bare-bones knowledge of a native. He’d seen wet-behind-the-ears tourists, who’d never spent a single day of their lives in the mountains, who had better sense than to head off into the back country dressed like that.

“You’re going to be just fine,” she said to the creature in her arms as he approached. “I’ll take care of you.”

That from a woman whose legs already sported a network of scratches and who was going to be freezing her ass off in about fifteen minutes.

“Really?” he asked. “And just who is going to take care of you?” Because it was obvious to him that she wasn’t capable of doing it.

Something sounding like a high-pitched squeak came out of her and she jumped, literally, a good two inches off the ground, twisting toward him at the same time.

“Jesus, Logan!” She clutched the bundle of fur she held to her chest, her eyes open wide. “You scared me half to death.”

“Only fair,” he answered, ignoring how this wasn’t the first time she’d said those words to him. “Because you had me worried half to death. What were you thinking heading up this far all by yourself? Without a plan and without even telling anyone where you were headed?”

He was fully aware that it was fear sparking his anger, but that knowledge didn’t change how he felt. His heart still pounded at the thought of all that could have gone wrong with this scenario. He’d been called out on too many rescue operations for hikers in trouble who thought they knew what they were doing and who had been much better prepared when they’d set out than Allie had been today.

“Well, sorry.” Her tone was anything but contrite. “But Grainger didn’t bother to leave a detailed itinerary of his travel plans for the day, so just how was I supposed to tell someone where I was going? And what I was thinking was that I needed to find this damn dog before he ended up as a coyote snack. The absolute last thing I need from you is—”

Thunder boomed overhead, obliterating her words. Apparently he’d have to live a while longer without learning what she didn’t need from him. Right now, he had more important concerns. A glance to the sky told him all he needed to know. The rain would be miserable, but not life threatening. It was the lightning that presented the greatest danger.

“We can’t stay out here.” He crossed the distance between them, taking her by the elbow as he spoke. “This is only going to get worse.”

In typical Allie fashion, she pulled her elbow away. “I don’t see what choice you think we have. It’s not like we can outrun this. It’s taken me all day to get here.”

“Your grandpa’s hunting cabin is just a little farther up this trail. If we keep moving, we might get there before the worst of it hits.”

“Then again, we might not,” she muttered as the first big, wet drops splattered against the foliage around them.

She grumbled, but at least she followed along with him when he started forward.

The cold rain was pelting down in earnest by the time they made their way to the little cabin. Logan’s relief at finding the place was short-lived when he spotted a lock hanging through the latch on the door. He didn’t remember that being there the last time he’d been to the cabin.

“Damn.”

Neither the knife nor the small flashlight he carried would be heavy enough to break the lock, and in spite of his many skills, he had no abilities as a lock-pick.

“Here,” Allie said from behind him. “Try this.” She slipped the leather strap of her walking stick off her wrist and offered it to him.

“Lock looks too new for me to be able to break it.”

“Maybe,” she conceded. “But that latch thingy looks like it must be at least a hundred years old. I bet a couple of really good whacks will knock it out of that wood, screws and all.”

It was worth a try. The first hit reverberated up Logan’s arms and into his shoulders, but barely budged the rusted metal. The third hit bent it out far enough that he could slide the heavy walking stick under it to use as a pry bar to pop the old metal loose.

Within minutes the door swung open and he scanned the interior with his flashlight before ushering Allie inside.

The place was a cabin in name only. Harley hadn’t bothered with any of the amenities that modern-day hunters might consider a necessity. Two bare army surplus cots, a table and two chairs made up the furnishings, along with an open shelf built along one wall. An old coffeepot sat on the top shelf, next to some neatly stacked metal cups and plates and, on the shelf below, a kerosene lamp that was likely older than Harley. That was it. Bare bones. There weren’t even any windows, though the cracks around the door served the purpose pretty well.

“F-fireplace,” Allie said as his light swept the interior again, her voice shaking as she shuddered with the cold. “A-and dry wood. Th-thank you, Papa Flynn.”

Now that they were safe from the immediate danger, survival instincts kicked in and Logan set about doing what needed to be done. First things first. They were all soaked to the skin, and both Allie and the dog were shivering with the cold.

Logan pulled one of his two silver emergency blankets from his pack and wrapped it around Allie’s shoulders before he set about building a fire. A quick check of the chimney assured him that, though spiders had been busy building webs inside, there were no obstructions that would prevent them from starting a fire.

Once the fire roared to life, he pulled off his T-shirt and hung it over a chair to dry. Behind him, Allie clapped her hands. Whether her applause was meant for his action or for the fire, he wasn’t sure. He turned around to ask, and found her pouring the last of her water into a bowl she then set in front of the dog… the dog that she’d wrapped in the blanket he’d given to her to warm her up.

“Allie, the dog has fur to keep him warm. He’s going to be fine.” Whereas she was still shivering.

“I know. But he’s so wet right now. And frightened out of his little head by the storm. He feels safer all cuddled up inside that blanket. I can hang out by the fire.”

He started to tell her how ridiculous she was being, but the words dried up in his mouth when she walked toward the fire, pulling her T-shirt up and over her head to hang on the chair next to his. When she began to unzip her shorts, he suffered a major coughing fit as the words that had clumped in his mouth backed up into his throat. Or maybe it was just his own saliva drowning him rather than dripping out as drool.

She paused, shorts halfway down her legs, to send him a look. “What? It’s not like you haven’t seen me in my underwear before.”

True. He’d also seen her
out
of her underwear, and that was the memory flooding his mind—and all his blood vessels—as he watched her now.

“You should peel out of your wet pants, too, if they’re going to have any chance at all of drying.” She wiggled her eyebrows as a big grin lit her face. “I won’t attack you. I promise.”

That made him smile.

“Okay, then. As long as my chastity is safe.”

“It is. Though I can’t promise the same for your blanket.”

“I knew it!” He sat down close to her and looped his arm over her shoulders, drawing her close within the shelter of his blanket. “I finally find the perfect woman and she only wants me for my body heat.”

Next to him, she stilled. “I want a lot more from you than body heat, Logan.”

Him too. But it was as good a place to start as any. He turned into her, intending to lower her to her back but, for the first time, he met with resistance. Her open palm pressed against his chest and she scooted a few inches away from him.

“What’s wrong?”