Silver Mine by Vivian Arend Page A

his first thought was less about how horrible it was that she’d fallen, or about how shockingly cold she must be, but more a sense of relief that he had another opportunity to work the system to their advantage.
    Guilt rushed in.
    That particular emotion and him had never been close bed partners. You did what you needed in the north, did what was required to survive. He’d never been a deceitful man, but it seemed deception wasn’t a trait that needed much training to become instinctive.
    Chase offered a hand to Shelley. “Did I bump you?”
    She accepted his help and scrambled out as quickly as possible. “Not your fault, it’s fine. But holy cow, that water is cold.”
    Her shirt clung to her, the gentle swells of her body clearer than before, and Chase swallowed hard.
    This trip was going to be the death of him. He was the one who needed to fall into the pond and sit there for a few hours in the hopes his dick would smarten up. Or freeze. Or something. Sweet mercy, the woman was fine.
    But untriggered. Damn and hell and…
    He opened his pack and passed over a small cloth. “Chamois. Dry yourself off. Leave the pants—you’ll need the layer for the last part of the hike to go through the bramble bushes, but take off your top and dry down. I’ll get you something to wear.”
    She must have been cold enough, or just trying really hard to do as she’d promised—the listening to him part. Shelley turned her back and pulled off her shirt, drying herself rapidly with the super-absorbent fabric, wringing it out a few times and carrying on to sop up her hair as well.
    “If you pass me my backpack, I can grab another top,” she suggested.
    Nope. While it wasn’t his fault she was soaking and cold, he had to take advantage of her misfortune. Fingers crossed it would work, Chase handed over his outer button-down shirt. “Why don’t you wear this until you can wash up for the night? We’re nearly there, hate to get something clean all sweaty.”
    A gust of wind hit at the perfect moment, the rush of cooler air making goose bumps rise on her arms. She clutched his shirt tightly then slipped it on. “Thanks.”
    Chase pulled back on his T-shirt. It wasn’t that cold out, even at nine in the evening. They could easily walk in shirtsleeves without needing protection, although the longer sleeves would help keep the bugs off her.
    The bonus was that when he showed up at the cabin with Shelley in tow, she’d smell as if he’d been all over her. The fact he’d sneakily insisted she wear his pack all day would also have surrounded her with his scent as they walked.
    It was a tangled web he was spinning, attempting to save her butt without letting her know what he was doing.
    They grabbed packs and loaded up, Shelley squirming a little in her wet pants. “You’ll dry as we walk,” he reassured her.
    One brow rose as she stared at him. “It’s not the most comfortable of situations, Chase, but I’ll live. Lead on.”
    The final distance disappeared quicker than he’d expected. Maybe the short dip had refreshed Shelley, or maybe the thought of getting to their stop for the night increased her energy. Either way, he had to step quickly to stop her from dogging his heels.
    “Want to tell me about the place we’re overnighting?”
    Now it began.
    “Was a regular cabin at one time. Family lived there for years before shipping out. Mom, Dad, couple kids and a cow—the works.”
    “Ahh, that’s the Rachel you mentioned. So there’s no woman still living there?”
    Oh hell, no. But he wasn’t going to even begin to tell Shelley about the last woman who lived there on a regular basis. He was sure she knew what a hooker was, but on the whole, not a conversation he wanted to have.
    “It’s a gathering point. The men in the backcountry use the cabin as a convenient rest place. Not everyone stops if they’re close enough to simply find their way to Keno or Elsa. The folks out real far need the place though. There’s