Kay killed the snowmobile engine with a push on the button. Flipping up the mask on her helmet, she sighed, relaxed, and leaned back on her elbows.
Mitch’s snowmobile continued to zoom ahead, then did an abrupt circle, roared back in her direction and stopped abruptly. His machine was as snow-covered as hers was, and with his suit and helmet totally encrusted, he looked something like the abominable snowman. Particularly when he swung one long leg over the side and started stalking toward her.
“We’re never going to get there if you keep doing this,” he scolded, not for the first time.
“I couldn’t help it.” She motioned all around her.
Moscow always received its share of snow in winter, but often enough it was the kind of snow that pelted down…and then melted. This high lake country around the Kootenai River was something else. Kay knew it was a lumbering region in summer, but Mitch’s cottage was accessible only by snowmobile at this time of the year.
She’d never been this far north before. Steep slopes had given the three-hour ride a roller-coaster quality. Over each rise there seemed to be a lake or stream hidden in the mountain folds. The sun had to fight to soar through the growth of old cedars and giant firs, so snow-laden they were drooping. In places, the wind-driven snow completely buried the trees, and they looked like mammoth ghosts, whimsical giant figures about to take off and walk.
Kay motioned again, entranced by the curve of silver stream they’d just passed. A foot-high shelf of snow curled over its banks; the sun had put a glaze of rhinestones on it. The air was so pure and fresh it hurt her lungs, and the sky had that incredibly clear blue of aquamarine. “It looks as if no one’s ever been here before-ever,” she said helplessly.
A lazy slash of a smile lit Mitch’s wind-reddened features as he bent over her and matched extremely cold lips to hers. “I knew you’d like it.” His warm eyes settled on hers for a long moment before he moved behind her and made sure for the dozenth time that her pack was secure on the back of the snowmobile. “This used to be mail-order-bride country, you know.”
“For the lumberjacks?”
“For lumbermen. Miners. Outlaws. Whoever was foolish enough to try to carve a living out of the wild. Old-timers say that anyone living alone here for long ‘got as goofy as a wooden watch.’ No matter what the season, they were cooped up. Eight feet of snow in the winter, and in summer the undergrowth could get so thick in the woods that you couldn’t travel through them.”
“How did they travel, then? Your family started around here way back, didn’t they? How’d they get the timber out, if there weren’t any roads?”
“They used the rivers. And as for simple visits between folk, the Kootenai and Kalispell Indians built some strange-looking sturgeon-nosed crafts. Kootenai canoes, they were called, ideal for traveling the rivers. And you’re not going to get me talking again until I have you nice and warm in front of a fire with a mug of hot coffee in your hands.” He tucked one snowmobile glove under his arm, and felt her cheek with his bare fingers. “You’re freezing,” he informed her.
“Am not.”
“You’re also hungry.”
“Am not.” She grinned.
“And it’s going to be dark in two hours. Did I tell you this area has its share of grizzlies?”
“Don’t give me that. Bears sleep during the winter.”
“Black bears sleep during the winter. But grizzlies…”
Kay righted herself promptly, not that she seriously believed him. Casting one lingering glance at the idyllic scene, she started the snowmobile engine. The vibrating roar filled her ears, and she adjusted her visor.
Leaning forward to keep the snow from rushing onto her mask, straddling the seat, she felt something like a jockey in the Kentucky Derby. A couple of hours before she’d been wary of the snowmobile; by now she was into the spirit of it. The thing liked to race; she’d just let it have its way-and had elicited Mitch’s roaring laughter when she pitched headfirst into a snowbank some time before.
Her fingers and toes were long past freezing and had gone completely numb. As she followed Mitch’s spray of snow in the distance, she thought dismally that she was doing a terrible job at keeping a handle on caution. She’d balked at the idea of spending three days alone with him, for the very reason that she knew darn well they would turn out as terrific as these first few hours.
Her heart couldn’t afford to get in deeper; she was in hock to Mitch, and heavily, already. When he’d tried to give her the star garnet for Christmas, panic had set in. She couldn’t accept a gift like that unless they were…committed. She was committed, but she just couldn’t be that sure of Mitch. She knew what he thought he wanted, but she couldn’t get it out of her head that the special feeling for a first lover would fade, that he’d suddenly be looking for other women and other sexual experiences.
She’d hurt him badly when she refused to take the garnet pendant. They’d been stiff with each other for the first time on the drive up here. Kay didn’t know how to broach the subject of his inexperience, which had clearly been a tender one for Mitch for so long…but then, as civilization had sped behind them, as the landscape changed to wild white mountains and bubbling streams, laughter had so naturally broken through. How do you keep your distance from a man you love more than life?
At his cabin, they’d be alone, and she’d have the chance to talk to him-she’d make the chance.
Wielding an armload of logs, Mitch pushed open the cabin door with his boot. Dropping the wood on the ketch beside the wood stove, he unzipped his snowmobile suit halfway and glanced around in search of Kay.
The log cabin was one big room with a raised potbellied stove in its center. The snow outside was knee-deep, and it curled on the windowsills like whipped cream. Inside, the stove was really popping, and the cedar logs let off their woodsy fragrance, which permeated the cabin.
The cabin was already toasty. Mitch pushed off his boots at the door and started stripping off the snowsuit, his eyes roaming the room restlessly. A twelve-point buck elk’s head hung over the couch; its eyes always stared back if you looked long enough. A double bed took up one corner; Kay had already removed the cover from the feather bed and fluffed it out.
She’d also set a kettle of water on the stove. And checked out the books in the ceiling-high bookcase. He smiled. Every cupboard in the kitchen area was open, obviously recently explored.
He might have thought she’d disappeared altogether if the trapdoor in the far corner hadn’t been open. Rubbing his hands together, he wandered to the opening and crouched down on his haunches.
“I would think you’d have the sense to warm up by the fire,” he called down.
“You’re back,” Kay announced unnecessarily. “Mitch, there’s enough food down here for an entire winter!”
“Of course there is. Anyone crazy enough to come up here in the dead of winter could get stranded.”
“When I saw there was no food upstairs, I got a little concerned,” she admitted. “But I never dreamed-”
“If we kept it upstairs, it would freeze-or spoil, during the long periods no one’s around. The generator obviously isn’t kept on when no one’s here, and you can’t count on it anyway through a long snowstorm.”
“The bathroom’s adorable,” Kay mentioned.
He grinned. “You like that?” The tiny cubicle just off the main room was big enough for a chemical john and that was it. A big claw-foot tub stood next to the pump sink in the kitchen area and could have contained two grown men. A propane heater promised enough hot water to fill the tub, but privacy was another story.
Privacy was not exactly what he had in mind for Kay these few days anyway. The holiday had not prompted much intimacy so far. Actually, none, although there were occasions he could have taken advantage of if the lady had shown the least inclination. Furthermore, Kay had reminded him twice on the way up that she wanted them to get back for a New Year’s Eve party at Stix’s.