Page 1 of Possessive Mountain Man
ONE
ELISE
The lie slips out as easily as taking another breath.
“Don’t worry, Daddy,” I say, watching the blizzard rage outside the cave’s narrow opening. “The storm isn’tthatbad.”
The wind kicks up, howling through the trees and rattling the brittle branches.
Shut up, I silently hiss.You’re about to give me—and my lie—away to my very concerned father on the other end of the call.
“I have eyes, Elise. I can read a damn weather report,” he grumbles. “And the report says you’re smack dab in the middle of the worst summer blizzard central Alaska has seen in more than fifty years.”
“Well, ‘summer’ is the key word. It doesn’t usually snow here in June.”
Which is exactly why I decided to spend my summer off-grid in Alaska instead of picking any other time of the year.
After finally earning my doctorate in May, all I wanted was a break. Time to disconnect, reboot, and, heck, maybe even do a bit of writing—before I start teaching in the fall.
I’ve always wanted to go.
My dad has been telling stories of Alaska’s untamed beauty for as long as I can remember. He was stationed here a million years ago, and he comes back every August to visit his best friend from the Army.
But he never brought me.
It was his place. Maybe that's why I felt so called to come here. I wanted in on the secret. I wanted to know what was so special that kept him coming back for more. And so far, I have no regrets.
Even if I'm now stranded with minimal supplies while a freak blizzard rages around me. Of course, history had to be made while I was out on a hike.
It’s a real pain in the you-know-what living in unprecedented times.
“It’s not safe out there,” Dad says, his voice tense.
“I know,” I admit at last, with a sigh. “But, good news: I found some shelter to hunker down in until it passes.”
“Shelter.” I can practically see his brow furrow from a thousand miles away. “What do you mean by shelter? You aren’t in your cabin?”
“I was out for a hike.”
“Elise.”
“It’s really not that bad.” I give a quick glance around the cave I’ve taken cover inside trying to come up with more words to describe it in a way that won’t have my dad chartering a helicopter. “It has three stone walls. Sturdy infrastructure. Built to last.”
“Hmm. Three stone walls. What about the fourth?”
I glance back out at the opening. “It offers panoramic views of the wilderness.”
There’s a beat of silence. “Does it have a door?”
“Does it have a door?” I scoff as my eyes dart around the space again, looking for something—anything—that I can use to create a makeshift door so I don’t have to do even more lying.
I come up short.
“I swear, it’s perfectly safe in here,” I say. “I’ll stay safe—and warm—until this all blows over. I promise, I’ll stay put.”
“You’re damn right you’re staying put,” he says. “I’m sending someone to get you.”
I sit up straighter against the stone wall at my back. “Dad, no. I don’t need a rescue party. I’m fine.”
