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“Fishing, huh?” Lazarus teased.
Shyla shoulder butted him. “That’s not what I meant at all.”
“I know, sweetheart.” The endearment tripped so easily off his tongue. Sounded so natural that it was hard to imagine that in a few short days, maybe even tomorrow, this would all be over.
She didn’t want to think about it, in fact. For some reason thoughts like that seemed far too sensitive. Like they had the ability to break her heart. Which was totally ridiculous when she considered that she’d only just met the Fortney brothers. There was no way she could be so attached to them in such a short space of time.
“So, what do you want to know?” Jericho asked, hooking his arm around her shoulder, and pulling her into the shelter of his body.
“Nothing really, honest,” she responded truthfully. “It just struck me how backwards all this is.”
“Survival situations are usually like that,” Dante commented. “You have to rely on whoever and whatever you can. Choice doesn’t really come into it.”
Shyla liked the idea that fate had put them in her path. It seemed more fortuitous, somehow. Like things were meant to be.
Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.
She shook off her fanciful thoughts and turned the conversation to them instead.
“So, I’d like to assume none of you are married then,” she quipped. She meant it as a joke, but a stilted silence followed her words.
She looked from one of them to the other. “Oh my god! You’re not, are you?”
Still nothing.
Shyla’s eyes widened and a chill pierced her heart. “Oh jeez! You are!” she whispered, aghast.
She tried to scramble out of the bed so she could grab her clothing. Sitting here naked with three married men - even one married man - was just too much for her, regardless of everything that had passed between them already.
How could they?
Jericho caught hold of her and hauled her back. “Where are you going, woman?” he demanded.
“I’m going to put my clothes on,” Shyla flustered. “This isn’t right…”
“None of us are married,” Lazarus asserted.
Shyla stilled and looked at him. “What? Then why would you all stay quiet like that then?” She demanded.
Jericho burst out laughing. “We were just teasing you,” he said, still chuckling.
Was it her imagination, or was that laughter a bit hollow?”
“We own a photography company,” he continued. “We’ve made a name for ourselves taking extreme weather photographs for magazines like National Geographic and Discovery.”
The information wrenched Shyla from her previous line of thought. “Wait…” she gasped. “You’re those Fortney brothers,” she said, incredulously. “The storm chasers?”
Her head whirled. These guys weren’t just your average hikers. They were extreme weather hunters. Risking their lives to get action shots of the very best and worst nature could throw at them. Tornadoes, avalanches, thunderstorms, lightning strikes.
This was incredible. She’d admired their work for years. Her father was a big fan, which was saying something, as he was a hard man to impress.
“That’s us,” Dante said, mildly.
“So, you were up here for a photoshoot?” she asked, her voice tinged with equal parts awe and dismay. “You were chasing this snowstorm? That’s so dangerous!”
“Something like that,” Lazarus remarked drily. “We were actually up here to take pictures of snowflakes for a science journal. And it’s lucky for you we deliberately put ourselves in the path of this storm. The chances of anyone else being up here who could help you were pretty slim.”
“You’ll get no argument from me on that point. I hope you got what you needed before I waylaid you.”
