Somewhere Montana by MJ Platt

wondering why I need winter survival skills. My buddies and I like to do extreme sports and we have a couple winter trips planned for next year. I tried to talk them into coming, too, but they didn’t think it was necessary.”
    “Well, if you spend as much time honing your survival skills as you do playing the ladies’ man,” said Mac, moving forward, “you just might be able to rescue their foolish hides. You don’t underestimate Mother Nature and what she can throw at you.”
    “I guess, Ms. Susan, that leaves just me,” said the fourth man, stepping into the breach and removing Sage’s hand from Buck’s. “I’m James Riddle. I’ll answer to Jim or Rooster. I’m a long haul trucker and my CB handle is the Bionic Rooster.”
    “Hey, you ever been down in the Keys?” jumped in Buck. “Some of the ladies have mentioned someone called the Bionic Rooster with the six million dollar pec—”
    Jim clapped his hand over Buck’s mouth. “Watch your mouth, son,” he warned quietly. “There’s a lady present. You can’t be much of a bartender. You do more yapping than listening.”
    Sage studied this soft-spoken man. He had to stand at least six foot two with muscular arms and chest, narrow waist and hips, and long, muscular legs. He emitted muted strength.  He gave the impression he was a man you didn’t want to mess with, but if he chose to be your friend, you couldn’t ask for a better one.
    A car pulling up front had them all turning toward the large window. Out stepped a man dressed as though going to a board meeting. He walked around the car, opened the rear door, and assisted out two small children. Taking each one by the hand, he strode for the front door.
    “Surprise!” announced Buck, slapping Mac on the back. That seemed to snap him out of his momentary stupor.
    “What in Holy Ned,” snarled Mac, yanking open the front door. At the look of fright on the children’s faces, he stepped back and waved them inside. “I don’t take children this young for any camps. You never said anything about bringing them with you.”
    “Sorry about that,” the man offered. “My au pair up and quit on me when she found out we were going into snow country. Even the added benefits,” he said with a lascivious smirk, “weren’t enough to entice her. There must be someone around I can hire to watch them while I’m here. Since their mother died, I take them with me whenever I have to be out of town for any substantial amount of time.”
    Sage watched the little girl remove her hat and coat and drop them on the floor behind her. The bigger child, a boy, seemed reticent to follow suit.
    “What happen to you?” asked the girl, staring at Sage.
    “A…an accident,” whispered Sage, throwing a help me look at Mac.
    The answer didn’t seem to phase the little girl, but the boy cringed and looked like he wanted to run. The man grabbed his son’s hand. Before he could catch his daughter’s, she marched up to Sage and raised her arms. Sage picked the child up. The little girl placed her two little hands on Sage’s face and turned it so the scar was prominently exposed to everyone’s view.
    “You gots a big boo-boo,” stated the girl. Before anyone could discern what she was about to do, she leaned forward and placed a smacking kiss on Sage’s cheek. “There. I kiss it all better,” she announced, grinning at Sage. Sage looked at Mac, speechless.
    “There goes your theory out the window,” he murmured, smiling at her as he took the child from her arms.
    “I GG. I four,” she told Mac, “and that JJ, he’s six,” she continued, pointing her finger at her brother.
    “Very pleased to meet you, GG,” said Mac, setting the child down. “Welcome, JJ,” he added, holding his hand out to the boy who cringed away from him.
    “JJ does that with everyone,” said his father. “His mother died in an accident six months ago. The child psychologist said he connects the word with death and each time he