Series: Unlikely Dilemmas #2
Publication date: August 7th, 2024
Synopsis:
What happens when you find yourself stranded in the wilderness with your political enemy?
Getting stranded in the freezing wilderness with my archenemy wasn't on today's to-do list. But somehow, that's where I've ended up.
Harry Matheson, my political rival, has always been smarmy, arrogant, and entitled. It figures that even this plane crash has barely ruffled his well-coiffed hair.
It's all fine, though, because our pilot has gone to call for help and rescue should be imminent.
Fast forward a few frigid hours...
Umm... maybe it's not so fine, because it appears our pilot is part of an international terrorist group intent on kidnapping us.
Now Harry and I have to flee through the wilderness--together.
Unfortunately, being adept at political debates and parliamentary procedures doesn't exactly prepare you for the basics of finding food, keeping warm, and evading the local wildlife while playing high-stakes hide-and-seek with armed terrorists.
The only way Harry and I have any hope of surviving is to stick together.
The problem is, the line separating hate and love has begun to blur, and the last thing I need is to fall for my enemy.
The Unlikely Pair is an enemies-to-lovers romance featuring a romp through the political wilderness where hearts, quite literally, go off the beaten path.
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Excerpt
It's impossible sleep. Having so much of my body against the ground makes me even colder. It's a cold I've never felt before, penetrating through to my bones. Every muscle in my body aches with a combination of overuse and cold, and my chest chimes in with the added complaint about bruising from the seatbelt.
I'm so cold that I'm pretty sure my blood has turned into a slushie. If a vampire tried to take a sip right now, they'd get brain freeze.
I shuffle and squirm, pulling my body into the tightest ball possible.
"Are you cold?" Harry asks.
There is absolutely no point in lying. "Yes. I'm freezing."
"I think we need to consider other strategies of heat retention," Harry says.
My teeth are almost chattering. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, consolidating our heat by being in closer proximity." It's not his actual words but the distaste in his voice that clues me in to what he's suggesting.
Closer proximity... he can't mean...
Is Harry actually suggesting we snuggle?
But even as part of my mind immediately rebels against the idea, the other, practical, freezing-my-arse-off part sees the advantage of his suggestion.
Conserving heat is what is most important.
And I'm so cold right now that I'd cuddle up to a porcupine with anger management issues if it meant I'd get slightly warmer.
"I guess we could maximize the efficiency of the survival blankets that way," I say.
There's a flash of light from where Harry is. The glow from his watch lights his face as he walks in my direction. He looks like he's on the way to an execution.
My mouth is weirdly dry as I pull myself into a half-sitting position.
"Um... so how do you want to do this?" I ask as Harry settles awkwardly next to me on my bed of pine needles.
"If you lie back down, I'll lie behind you," he says coolly.
"What? I'm not going to be the little spoon."
His watch is still glowing, and the dim light is enough to see his scowl.
"Well, neither am I. I am decidedly a big spoon," Harry says firmly.
"Well then, I'm an ice cream scoop."
"You're a what?"
"An ice cream scoop. Big enough to envelop all spoons of any size."
"I'm an inch taller than you, Toby."
"Ah, but my ice cream scoop persona is more about my personality than my size."
"Fine, if you're an ice cream scoop, I'm a soup ladle."
"Actually, I think you're more of a salad fork."
"Exactly how am I a salad fork?"
"Formal, rarely needed, and incredibly pretentious," I offer.
Harry pinches the bridge of his nose for a few beats before he responds. "As incredibly productive as all this speculating about how our personality traits align with utensils, how about we agree to take turns? I'll be the big spoon to start because it will keep you warmer, so hopefully, you'll be able to sleep. When it's my turn to sleep, you can spoon me. And tomorrow night, we'll change the order of who gets to sleep first."
"Hopefully, by tomorrow night, we'll be rescued, and having to snuggle close to you will just be a memory I'll need extensive counseling to forget," I say as I lie back down.
"We can only hope," Harry replies crisply.
I arrange one of the survival blankets underneath myself to provide some insulation from the cold ground. Then Harry lies down behind me, pulling the other one over us. The only sound is the rustling of the blanket as he tries to arrange it around us, his movements careful and deliberate.
I try to adjust to the reality of having Harry Matheson's body pressed against me, his heat seeping through the layers of our clothing, his soft breath tickling the fine hairs on my neck.
We're both lying so stiffly a pair of cryogenically frozen lab rats could sub in for us.
But it turns out there is one thing about Harry Matheson that I do like.
His warmth. It envelops me, chasing away the chill that had settled deep in my bones. It's like being spooned by a giant, sentient hot water bottle, except this one has a posh accent and a superiority complex.
Harry's arm settles across my waist tentatively, with the hesitancy of a man reaching into a lion's cage, half expecting to pull back a stump instead of a hand.
Jax lives in New Zealand and is a rabid sports fan, a hiking enthusiast and has a slightly unhealthy addiction to nature documentaries. As an extrovert who spends way too much time in her own head, she loves to connect with her readers. Join her Facebook group Jax's Crew for bonus stories plus exclusive excerpts from her upcoming books.
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