Page 38 of Beastly Mountain Man

The resort still had power.

Caprice slept beside me, turned toward the warm place I’d occupied most of the night. Her phone sat dark on the nightstand. Outside the bedroom, Bear’s slow breathing came from the rug where he’d settled after I’d checked the fire and locked up.

I wanted to stay exactly where I was.

That didn’t make the road safer or the upper properties check themselves.

I eased out of bed without waking Caprice and picked up my phone. The overnight updates were what I expected. The lodge was staffed, utilities were normal, and the upper internal road remained closed to nonessential traffic while crews assessed the accumulation.

Good. No emergency.

Just a lot of snow and work that still belonged to me.

I pulled on last night’s jeans and henley and left Caprice sleeping while I crossed to the kitchen. The closed laptop remained on the dining table. Dinner dishes still waited where we’d abandoned them.

And the chocolate cake sat on the counter, its crooked layer of vanilla buttercream looking exactly as it had before dessert had taken a sharp turn away from eating.

I smiled, moved the cake into the refrigerator, then headed for the entry.

My winter coat, gloves, and knit cap were in the truck. Bear’s breakfast, clean work clothes, and everything I needed to make Caprice a proper brunch were at my house.

I stepped outside long enough to pull on the coat, gloves, and cap, then came back for Bear. The truck could stay where it was until I knew more about the road.

Bear and I could walk.

The snow reached nearly to the tops of my boots where it had drifted beside the porch, though it was lighter under the trees. I clipped Bear’s leash on before opening the door. He stood beside me with his whole body wound tight enough to launch.

“You get one chance to remember you’re attached to me.”

Bear looked up.

Then he hit the snow at full speed.

Apparently that had been the chance.

I caught the leash before he reached the end of it and followed him down the steps, powder pushing over my boots.

Upper Ridge looked nothing like it had the day before. Dark asphalt, brown needles, frost, and bare ground had disappeared beneath white. Snow covered the road deeply enough that only the reflector posts and the shallow dip between the trees showed where it ran.

Bear shoved his entire face into the first drift he reached.

He came up snorting, his muzzle white.

“I’m glad one of us is approaching this professionally.”

His tail sent powder across my jeans.

We took the shorter wooded route toward my house instead of following the internal road. I used the path often enough to know where the ground dropped and where roots crossed beneath the needles, but new snow covered everything, so I slowed down anyway.

Bear ranged ahead as far as his leash allowed, stopping every few feet to investigate whatever had happened under the snow overnight.

My house appeared through the trees a few minutes later, the roof piled white and a thin ribbon of woodsmoke rising from the chimney.

I checked the outside before going in. No branches against the roof. No drift blocking the vent. No ice building where it shouldn’t.

Inside, the stove still held enough heat to take the edge off the cold.

Bear headed straight for his food bowl while I added a log, filled his bowl, and stripped off the damp jeans I’d walked over in. My phone buzzed on the kitchen counter with another property update.