Snowstorms & Schnapps – Chapter 3

The wind howled outside like a feral beast trying to claw its way into the little cabin, while the cold seeped through every crack, turning the air bitter. I leaned against the doorframe, wrapping my arms tighter around myself as Jake tinkered with the generator. His large hands moved deftly, as if he’d done this a hundred times before — a far cry from my city-trained fingers, which were better suited for typing emails than handling anything mechanical.

It wasn’t just his competence that struck me; it was the way he moved, so steady, so sure of himself — and God help me, the way his flannel shirt stretched over his broad shoulders didn’t escape my notice either.

“You alright over there?” Jake’s voice broke through the quiet, his eyes flicking to mine with a knowing grin.

I blinked, tearing my gaze away from the taut muscles shifting under his shirt. “I’m peachy,” I muttered, gripping the empty schnapps bottle like a lifeline. “Just watching the master at work.”

“Oh, is that what you call it?” He chuckled as he wiped his hands on a towel and stood up. “This old thing” — he gestured to the generator — “is pretty basic, but she’ll keep your lights on… at least for a while. But I’m concerned you don’t have enough fuel or firewood in here if she goes on the blink.”

I nodded, my mind wandering between the roar of the storm outside and the very real, very attractive man standing a few feet away. “You make it look so easy,” I added, trying to sound more in control than I felt. “You do this a lot?”

“Living off the grid, you kind of have to,” he said with a shrug. “You pick up a few tricks.” His eyes sparkled with amusement as he glanced back over at me, still holding the schnapps. “Out here, it’s about staying ahead of the elements… and maybe not finishing an entire bottle before the whiteout hits.”

I stiffened. “I’m pacing myself. Thanks for the concern, though.”

“I’m sure you are.”

There was a comfortable silence as he finished putting away his tools, the only sounds being the wind’s growing fury outside and the crackle of the fire in the hearth. The snowflakes had become so thick that the window was now nothing more than an opaque sheet of white. It all seemed so unreal, miles away from the constant rush of Denver.

“So, any idea when this storm’s going to let up?” I tried to mask the creeping worry in my voice.

Jake wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, his expression going serious. “It’s hard to say, but judging by how fast it’s coming down… we’re probably looking at a good couple of days.” He hesitated for a moment, then added, “I need to get you up to my place.”

My stomach sank. “Your place?”

He nodded, his gaze steady. “Yeah. This cabin is cozy, but you’re not prepped for a storm this wicked. My place is just up the hill, better insulated. Got plenty of firewood and supplies.”

I lifted my chin, bristling. “I’ll be fine. This was the whole point of the trip — solitude. I wanted to be on my own.”

“Yeah, well, the thing about solitude is, it’s fine until it’s not. And if this storm gets as bad as the alerts say, you’re going to need more than schnapps to stay warm.”

I refused to admit he had a point. “Don’t worry about me, mountain man. I survived corporate takeovers. This is nothing.”

He sighed, eyes narrowing as he glanced between me and the storm outside. “Look, Caroline, right? I’m not trying to push you into anything, but once this storm hits full force, we won’t be able to hike to my place at all. You’ll be stuck here until it clears… Might even be dangerous if the generator goes out again.”

As his words settled in, a soft ping sounded from his phone and he pulled it from his pocket. A walkie-talkie looking thing. I’d seen them in movies, like what hikers used.

The emergency alert blared through the tension hanging between us. He scanned the message before raising his eyes to meet mine.

“Whiteout conditions will hit in the next hour.” His voice was calm, but the underlying concern poked through. “We need to leave now, otherwise we won’t have another chance.”

I bit my lip, the knot in my stomach tightening. This was all becoming a little too real — a little too fast. And yet, the idea of getting through that storm alone, with no backup, was enough for even my stubborn pride to give up a little.

“Fine,” I relented, waving my hand. “But I’m not leaving without my stuff.”

He chuckled at that. “Didn’t think you would.”

Before I could even attempt packing, Jake sprang into action, picking up my half-splayed suitcase and moving far more efficiently than I could hope to right now, considering the amount of schnapps swimming through my system. He tossed in essentials — clothes, boots, my charger — paying attention to things I would’ve forgotten in my haste.

“I can manage,” I mumbled, wobbling toward the small heap of disheveled fabric on the bed, which included, unfortunately, a lacy pair of underwear. I grabbed them and turned around with a cheeky smirk, holding them up. “Guess you’re stuck with these, too.”