That easily, she slipped right into his heart, where she couldn’t be. He had enough problems right now. Even so, for the moment, she was his responsibility. He started hiking up the dangerous and rocky embankment as the snow began to beat the freezing rain down. “Cry all you want, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”
Chapter 2
Heather rested in the hospital bed with her broken ankle elevated. Someone had decorated the room with poinsettias, and soft Christmas music wound through the hallway outside. She frowned at the offending cast that protected what had turned out to be a clean break. At least that was something. She needed to be in fighting form, just in case, and running with crutches was an impossibility.
Her mind returned—again—to the handsome rescuer who’d carried her up the rocky cliff and down the mountain in what had turned into a blinding snowstorm. Quint Albertini. He was sexy and strong, and right now, she wanted to snuggle right back into his neck.
That was not going to happen.
She sighed and looked around the quiet hospital room where she’d stayed the remainder of the night. There was no reason to still be in bed, but the nurse hadn’t returned with her discharge papers yet.
A bustle sounded outside the doorway, and a woman strode inside. She was tall with gray streaked black hair piled on her head and smooth skin with sparkling brown eyes. Quint’s eyes. The woman looked a little bit like Sophia Loren, and her red Christmas sweater appeared classy instead of silly.
“Hello.” She pulled a pink chair closer to the bed and handed over a platter of cookies to place on the blanket. “I brought you goodies. The food in the Silverville hospital isn’t bad, but nothing tastes as good as iced Christmas cookies.”
The fragrant smell made Heather’s nose twitch. “Um, thank you?” She reached for a cookie. It was only the second day of December, and the lady already had Christmas cookies?
Was the woman the small town’s version of a Candy Striper? Heather took a bite and then had to take a moment. Warmth, almond, and sugar hit her system with a sense of love. Chewing, she swallowed. “This is the best cookie I’ve tasted in my entire life.”
The woman smiled. “Of course it is. It’s an old Italian recipe.”
“Of course,” Heather murmured, taking another bite. So good. “I’m Heather.”
“I know, dear. You’re Louise Davis’s granddaughter, right? I was so sorry to hear of her passing, even though she just moved here last month.” The woman reached over and patted Heather’s hand. “I’m Elda Albertini.”
Albertini. “You’re Quint’s mom? He saved me last night.” Heather eyed the cookie plate.
Elda pushed the plate closer. “Aren’t you a sweet girl? I’m Quintino’s grandmother. My second eldest son is Quint’s father. Everyone calls me Nonna Albertini.”
Grandmother? Whatever the woman’s skincare regimen was, Heather wanted to learn it. “It’s so very nice to meet you. Grams sent me a letter saying how nice everyone was in town, and I was looking forward to visiting and meeting everyone.” Before Grams had died unexpectedly from a stroke. Sadness wandered through Heather, and she reached for a second cookie. Why not?
Elda patted her hand again. “I didn’t have the time to get to know your grandmother, but she seemed lovely. Do you have any other family?”
“No,” Heather said, the sense of feeling alone swamping her. She shoved it away. “It was just Grams and me for most of my life. We lived in Boise until recently when Grams moved up here to fully retire.” It had been a month since she’d passed, and Heather was still grieving, but the good memories helped. “She was the best person in the world.” She tried to sit up straighter in the bed. “Her last wish was to have her ashes scattered into the wind from the top of Storm Mountain, and it took me a couple of weeks to get the right permits. That’s why I was up there in the winter. I was hoping to miss the snowstorm.”
“That was the right thing to do,” Elda said, nodding emphatically. “It’s going to be a late and wild winter season if my arthritic aching hands are anything to go by, and they are. You should stay off the mountain until next spring unless you’re in a four-wheeler or on a snowmobile. No hiking.”
“I agree.” Heather looked down at her cast and sighed.
Elda reached for a cookie and munched contentedly. “You said that you lived in Boise. Past tense.”
Heather nodded. “I did, but Grams left me her house, so I’m moving here. I can work from anywhere, and the town is so sweet and quaint.” More importantly, it didn’t have the bane of her existence living there. It was safe and strangers were noticed.
“That’s wonderful.” Elda finished her cookie and smiled. “What do you do?”
“I write and illustrate children’s books.” Heather perked up. “In fact, I’d love to start a new series featuring a rescue dog now that I’ve met Zena.” The ideas were already spinning around in her head.
Elda’s eyes sparkled. “Then you must get to know Zena better, right? We have a family barbecue every Sunday at my eldest son’s house, and I’ll give you directions.”
Heather’s mouth opened and then shut. “That’s kind of you, but I would never want to impose.”
“Don’t be silly.” Elda opened a flower decorated purse and rummaged around to bring out a pen and a small notepad. “Your grandma told me that your great uncle on her father’s side was Italian. A Banerosi, I believe.”
Heather blinked. “That sounds right.”
Elda quickly jotted down an address and handed the paper over. “Isn’t that wonderful?”
“Sure?” Heather was saved from having to find a more appropriate answer when Quint strode inside with Zena bounding beside him. Her body warmed and heat flushed into her face. “Hello.”
“Hi.” In the daylight, he was even more handsome. His dark hair curled beneath his ears, and his eyes were a light topaz today. He’d shaved, but a shadow was already covering what had to be considered a truly rugged jaw. Today he wore jeans and a faded tee that hugged very firm chest muscles Heather had felt the night before while he hiked down a mountain during a snowstorm and saved her life. He looked at his grandmother. “Nonna?”
“Hi, sweetheart.” Elda patted Zena on the head and then stood to reach up and place a kiss on his chin. “I was just talking to Heather, and she has Italian ancestry. Isn’t that just lovely?”
Quint sighed. “Nonna.”
Elda turned and smiled at Heather. “She was just telling me what a hero you are and how you saved her. At least you didn’t drop her.” With that, she patted Zena again and strode toward the door.
“That was eons ago.” Quint rolled his eyes. “I didn’t drop Anna, Nonna. Donna and I were swinging her and threw her in the river.”
“She broke her wrist,” Elda said smoothly.
“It was nearly two decades ago. She was four years old and she landed on a board that we didn’t know was floating in the water.” Quint shrugged his powerful shoulders. “I still maintain it wasn’t our fault, and Anna doesn’t hold any grudges. Well, until she wants a favor.”
“That’s between you and your cousin.” Elda waved from the doorway. “Heather is coming to the Sunday barbecue, and she probably shouldn’t drive. Take care of it.” Then she was gone.
Quint dropped into her vacated chair, his gaze direct on Heather. “Unless you want to get married next week, you’re gonna want to run. Trust me.”
Heather’s mouth went dry. “Um.”
He grinned, his muscled body overwhelming the simple chair. “You were probably somewhat safe until she discovered you have Italian blood. Now you’re fair game, so be prepared for matchmaking as you’ve never seen before.”
She barely knew the man, but a sense of peace and comfortability surrounded her—along with intrigue. “I figured you’d be married.”
“Nope. Have terrible luck with women.” His broad hand descended on the dog’s head. “Except for my girl, here.”
“I know what you mean,” Heather admitted, instant
ly shying away from the possibility. She had enough problems right now, although hopefully moving to the small Idaho town would take care of most of them. “I do want to thank you for carrying me down the mountain.”
“Any time.” He pet the dog, whose tail wagged across the sparkling clean tiled floor. “Mind if I ask what you were doing hiking that mountain in the beginning of December?”
“I was scattering my grandmother’s ashes,” she murmured. “It took forever to get the permits.”
Understanding smoothed out his features. “I’m sorry about that.”
So was she. Heather pushed the plate of cookies toward him. “Hungry?”
“Definitely.” He took a cookie and ate happily. “She makes the best ones, right?”
Heather could only nod. Pleasure cut across his angled face, and man, he was something to look at and probably draw later. “Do you carry a lot of people down mountains?”
“Enough,” he said agreeably. “The Silverville Search and Rescue team gets a good workout pretty often, and we coordinate with the state and federal officials when necessary. We’re all volunteers, but most of us grew up around here and know the terrain.”
Volunteers? She looked at the dog. “What do you do when you’re not volunteering and putting yourself in danger?”
He snagged another cookie. “I’m a Forestry Technician with the U.S. Forest Service.”
That made sense. He seemed like an outdoorsy type of guy, and managing the forests was a good job. A solid job in a place like Idaho. “It’s nice you’re stationed at home,” she said.
“Well, I live here but have to travel for work quite a bit,” he admitted. “Although with my schedule, I do get some great downtime, and usually being with family is a good thing.” He set his hands in his lap, even though his gaze dropped to the cookies.
“Please, have another one,” she said. “I already ate two, and that’s my sugar limit for the day.” Or close to it, anyway.
He shrugged and took another cookie.
“Who’s Anna?” She couldn’t help but ask.
“My cousin,” Quint said, wiping icing off his lip with his thumb. “We were playing and having fun. Her older sister and I were swinging her toward the river, I had her arms, and Donna had her feet, and we tossed, and she hit a board. Two decades ago.” He shook his head. “But when Nonna wants something, she’s more than happy to use guilt, you know? I mean, Donna and I were about eight years old, and Anna asked us to throw her in. We were goofing off, and Anna rarely brings it up.”
The fondness with which he spoke caught Heather in the chest. What would it be like to have a big family with so much history? So much support and love? “You’re very lucky,” she whispered.
“I know,” he said, his gaze warming on her. “Don’t worry. Now that you’re in Silverville, you’re family. Whether you want to be or not.” His chuckle was low and throaty to the point of being sexy.
Her phone buzzed from her pack, which sat on the granite counter, and she stiffened.
He tilted his head. “Want me to get that?”
“No. That’s okay. I’ll call them back,” she said, her heart rate kicking up.
“You sure?” His humor had gone, leaving a curious and rather intense look in his eyes.
She waved the stress away. “Of course.” She could handle it. “It’s probably just my editor, and I’ll call her back later.” Hopefully it was Julie.
“All right.” He scratched Zena behind the ears, his gaze no less intense.
Heels clip-clopped closer in the hallway outside, and a woman stepped inside. She had blonde hair, blue eyes, and bright red nails. “Quint,” she said, her very red lips tipping in a smile. “Hello.”
Quint frowned. “What are you doing here?”
So much for the good natured forestry guy. Heather studied the woman. Her skirt was tight and short, her blouse Chanel, and her earrings real diamonds. Her body was small and looked perfect in the tight skirt, and Heather made sure the blankets were covering her much larger legs…except for the cast.
“Hi. I’m Jolene.” The woman ignored Quint and walked closer, her gaze raking Heather. “I’m from the Timber Gazette, and I’d like to interview you for a feature about your ordeal. We have a local imprint for the paper here in Silverville. What do you say?”
Fear shot straight to Heather’s stomach and cramped. Hard. “I’d rather not,” she said, aiming for forceful but coming out unsure. Her throat began to close, and she fought off panic. “I mean, thank you for your interest, but I don’t want an interview.” She looked at Quint. “I’m sorry. I’m sure it’d help the volunteer program, but….” She couldn’t really explain.
“No problem.” He stood and put his body between Jolene and Heather. “She said no. That means no.” His voice was firm with a hint of something beneath. Irritation? Anger?
Jolene’s hand wrapped around his wrist, the red nails looking sharp. “Now, Quint. Knock it off. I was hoping we could grab a drink and talk things out, anyway.”
Heather’s heart twinged, even though there was no reason she should think about romance right now. Even so, if this was the type Quint liked, there hadn’t been a shot in hell, anyway. The woman was high-end designer store, and Heather was more of a Target girl in the bigger sizes.
Nope. Bad self-talk. She mentally shook herself out of it. For goodness sakes.
Quint removed the woman’s hand. “Sorry, I can’t. I promised Heather a ride home, and here comes Nurse O’Connor with the discharge papers.”
A ride home?
Chapter 3
Quint parked in front of Heather’s house and jumped out of his truck to reach the passenger side door before she could open it. Her place was ready for the holidays. Christmas lights were already strewn across the eaves, and a decorated tree stood front and center in the bay window. “Let me. I’m getting used to carrying you.”
She blushed. “You’re just trying to build more muscle.”
He laughed and lifted her out, figuring she’d just given permission. Seeing her attempt walking with the crutches to his truck earlier had been painful. “You are a good sport, Heather.” In fact, she hadn’t even asked about the weird interaction with Jolene. Yet, anyway. He let Zena leap out and then shut the door. “I’ll come back for your stuff. Let’s get you out of the snow.” The storm had lightened but wasn’t letting go yet.
She ducked her head against the blizzard but kept silent.
He hustled up the walk to the front porch of the old Denzi place. It was an A-frame home with two bedrooms, one bathroom, and climbable trees in the back that led to the national forest. “My friend Joe lived here with his folks while growing up. Both of them are gone, and Joe is a cop in New York City.” He set her down beneath the eve and by the front door, turning the knob. It was locked. “Huh. Never saw it locked before.” But it made sense. The world had changed, and Heather was a woman living alone. “Key?”
“In my pack,” she said, hopping on her good foot to lean against the freshly painted white siding. The shutters had been painted a muted blue that looked pretty in the winter light.
Zena ran around back to the fully grown pine trees, barking happily while playing in the snow.
“No problem.” Quint loped down the steps to his truck to grab her pack and crutches, returning to unlock the door and help her inside. He whistled. “Wow. This place looks great.” The genuine wooden floors had been refinished, the walls painted, and new granite showed through the doorway to the kitchen. The house had been built in the early 1900s when the mines were prosperous, and the craftsmanship was obvious with the vintage high ceilings. However, boxes were strewn in every direction.
“They remodeled before my grandmother bought the place.” Heather leaned on the crutches and looked around, her shoulders slumping. “She didn’t have time to fully unpack, and the rest of the stuff here is mine. It might take me longer than I’d hoped.” She shook her head and smiled. “But it’s not like I could go hiking or runni
ng right now.”
Everything inside him wanted to help, but Heather was a keeper, and he wasn’t at a place in his life for a keeper. Not with his job and definitely not with his recent run of bad decisions, including Jolene. “The tree is, ah, interesting.” The tree was green but every decoration was pink. Pink Santas, pink picture frames, pink ornaments with brighter pink accents. “I take it your grandma liked pink?”
Heather laughed and nodded. Man, she had a great laugh.
A small compact car skidded to a stop on the street, and Quint turned to look with the door still open. The youngest McLeary kid leaped out of the car wearing a bright red hat with a pizza box in his hands. He ran through the snow to reach them.
Quint sighed. “Hey, Smash. Great game the other night.”
“Hey, Quint. Thanks.” The kid shoved the pizza box into his hands. “It’s already paid for and she tipped me. Bye.” He nodded at Heather and then headed back for his car.
Heather stared at the box and frowned. “I didn’t order pizza.”
“No. I’m sure it’s from Nonna Albertini.” Quint strode into the fresh kitchen and placed the box on the island. “I’m sorry about this. She’s a born matchmaker, and she’s determined.”
Heather wobbled behind him on the crutches. “Oh.” A peach color filtered through her high cheekbones. “Well, would you like to stay for an early dinner? It’s the least I can do, considering you saved my life and your grandmother bought the pizza.” Humor danced across her face.
He looked toward the doorway.
“Oh. Zena can come inside.” Heather hobbled to the cupboards and took down some Appleware dishes. “I have a bottle of Cabernet over by the microwave.”
“That sounds good.” Still, he hesitated. “I just don’t—”
She turned and hit him full on with those light green eyes. “I don’t, either. Believe me. While I like your Nonna a lot, and she bakes the most incredible cookies in the world, I’m not looking for romance. At all. Now isn’t a good time.”
Holiday Rescue Page 2