“Only if you’re headed to the beach, darlin’.” Jim put his gloved hands on Brynn’s shoulders and turned her east. “This is the way. I thought you were going to have that problem looked at.”

Thomas snorted.

“What problem?” Alex watched Jim pat Brynn affectionately on the back.

“Brynn has no sense of direction. Even a compass or GPS can’t straighten her out.” Ryan hugged her and gave her a smacking kiss on one cheek. “But we love her anyway.”

Brynn blushed at the kiss and deftly stepped out of Ryan’s arms with a one-handed shove to his chest. Her brown eyes met Alex’s for the briefest second.

Had she pointed in the wrong direction to get the attention off his bone blunder?

Brynn was the mediator of the group. Always negotiating, getting between the others when the slightest argument started to surface. Like she couldn’t stand the littlest confrontation among the friends. But she definitely wasn’t scared to stand up for what she thought. She’d voiced her opinions without a qualm throughout the trip. But for some reason she didn’t like to see the men argue. Didn’t she know that was part of how men communicated?

“How much daylight do we have left?” she asked Thomas.

Thomas shrugged, squinting at the cloudy sky. “Three, four hours. Plenty of time to get in some yardage before looking for a place to sleep.”

Sleep? In the snow? Alex glanced around and shuddered. Tonight was clearly going to suck. “I don’t suppose you know of a Motel 6 up ahead?”

Thomas gave a short laugh, more like a bark. “Motel 6? Ha! Good one.” He flashed a rare grin.

“Motel 6 below,” Alex grumbled to himself at the next break. The temps were dropping along with the light. The sky had been slowly dimming for the past hour and he was starting to wonder where they’d make camp for the night. He used the break to take inventory of his borrowed pack. Along the hike, he hadn’t done more than locate the protein bars and water bottles. He stared into the pack and he realized he’d been a walking sporting goods store.

Thank you, Sheriff Collins.

Alex felt like an idiot as he found the sheriff’s stash of aspirin and Advil. He’d been carrying his own relief all morning while he suffered. Shaking his head, he dug out what looked like a kid’s belt with an odd circular triple pattern on the buckle. His hands were trembling slightly again, but he ignored them. He slid the adjustment straps back and forth. What in the hell was it for?

“It’s a headlamp,” Ryan spoke.

Alex blinked and stared at the “buckle,” finally realizing he was looking at three tiny LED bulbs. His fingers found a switch and he turned it on only to blink again as he blinded himself.

“Shit. Sucker’s bright.”

“Those lights will last for hundreds of hours.” Ryan grinned at his surprise.

Alex glanced around in the dimming daylight, noticing Jim and Thomas had slipped on their headlamps but hadn’t turned them on yet. He did the same, tightening the strap that he’d loosened enough to fit over Goliath’s head. He also found dry clothing, two types of Leatherman tools, wire, pliers, needles, thread (which he hoped was for clothing repair, not skin), water purification tablets, duct tape, carabiners, and nylon rope. He stared at the heat sheets crammed into bags the size of his fist, remembering that in certain situations the millimeter-thin silver blankets could make the difference between life and death. He snorted at the sunscreen and was tickled to find a package of baby wipes. He ripped one out and washed his face in relief, then rubbed at the ground-in mud on his pants.

Now he smelled like a baby. But in a good way.

What he didn’t find was a tent.

Did they plan to sleep exposed to the elements? He examined the sleeping bag. It was down filled and appeared it would come up around his head like a mummy. He’d briefly scanned the sleeping bags that morning at the sporting goods store, but knew there would be a bag waiting for him at the base camp. Alex had been in and out of the store in twenty minutes. He’d told the way-too-young salesclerk where he was going and what he’d be doing and the kid led him on a lightning-fast trek around the store, throwing clothing in a basket. Alex put on the stuff in the changing room, slapped down a credit card, and then paled at the total.

He’d been glad he didn’t need to buy a bag. He’d seen one for $600.

He hefted the sleeping bag from his pack. It couldn’t weigh more than five pounds. He rooted some more and found a pad to go under the sleeping bag. Was this the extent of his nighttime gear?

“Hey, Ryan.”

The other man had his mouth full but managed an inquiring mumble.

“Am I supposed to have a tent?”

Ryan swallowed and twisted up his lips. “I’ve got one. We usually only pack one for every two or three people. We worked it out before we left. Brynn sleeps with Jim and her dog. The rest of us will fit in my tent.”

Alex exhaled. Thank God. At least he’d have a roof over his head.

“Did ya think we’d sleep out in the snow?”

Alex snorted. “I didn’t know what to think. I was hoping not to get a lesson in snow caving.”

“Not enough snow at this level.” The other man’s eyes danced at Alex’s obvious discomfort. “Snow caving’s not that bad. Especially with these sleeping bags. You’re gonna be amazed at how toasty they are. If it weren’t snowing, I’d consider sleeping under the stars. Nothing better than being in a warm bag as you study the sky at night.”