by Lisa Childs
Dawson wouldn’t have done that. He was too good a man to take out what she’d done on her nephews. “Of course he wouldn’t do that.”
“Why did you?” Kim asked.
“I never agreed to go camping with them,” Avery said. But maybe she should have…
“Why did you do the report?” Kim asked. “Even after you knew he didn’t want the publicity.”
Heat flushed Avery’s face. “My career isn’t going that great,” she admitted. “They hired another reporter. I was already fighting for airtime. I was probably going to lose my job.” She still could if she didn’t return as her boss had asked.
“So you used him?”
“I—I—” She couldn’t deny that she had. She’d tried to justify it. But it didn’t change the fact that she’d known he hadn’t wanted the publicity and she’d done the story anyway. She needed to apologize. “Do you have another sleeping bag?”
“What?” Kim asked.
“I need to use it,” Avery said. She doubted Dawson would let her share his. But he couldn’t kick her out of the woods. “And you need to tell me where they are.”
Kim shook her head.
“I know you know,” Avery said. “You probably had GPS chips implanted in the boys after the fire.” She was surprised that Kim had even let them leave the house after Avery had brought up the possibility of an arsonist being in Northern Lakes. But Kim believed the campers had started the fire. Maybe that was why Dawson had taken them camping—to show them how to do it safely.
Kim sighed. “He’s going to be furious…”
He was. When Avery drove the Jeep up to their campsite an hour later, she saw it on his face. His clenched jaw. The anger glinting in his topaz eyes.
“Aunt Avery?” Kade said, as if he couldn’t believe it was her.
“What are you doing here?” Ian asked.
She’d never gone camping with them before, so of course they would question her appearance. They weren’t any more welcoming than Dawson was. Probably because they didn’t want to share his attention with her. Their father was gone so much they didn’t have much of a male influence in their lives.
She felt another pang of guilt that she had intruded on their trip. “I brought chocolate and graham crackers for s’mores,” she said. Usually she could get to them with sweets.
Predictably they both grinned. “You did?”
“They’re in the back of the Jeep,” she said. “Can you get everything and my sleeping bag?”
Dawson waited until the boys had hurried toward her Jeep before he said, “You’re not staying.”
“You don’t own the forest,” she said. Then she winced at her own petulant tone. She owed him an apology, not more attitude.
He nodded in agreement. “True. But I set up this campsite. And you’re not welcome here.”
The coldness of his voice made the hollow feeling in her chest intensify. She felt so empty. What had she done? “Dawson—”
Before she could begin the apology she owed him, the boys were back. “Look,” Kade said as he dropped bags onto the ground. “Aunt Avery brought dark chocolate and milk chocolate and caramel…”
“I didn’t know what you liked,” she told Dawson. She knew her nephews loved it all. But she didn’t know Dawson’s preferences beyond the bedroom. She knew where he liked to be touched, where he liked to be kissed…
But she didn’t know what he liked to eat. Or drink. Or what music he listened to. She really knew very little about him. An old transistor radio sat inside the tent, playing country music. It must have been his choice because the boys liked rap.
“You know what I don’t like,” he said. “I thought I made it very clear.”
The boys glanced between them, their faces curious.
“You don’t like s’mores?” Ian asked.
Dawson shook his head. “I don’t like reporters.”
“But Aunt Avery’s a reporter,” Kade said. “You don’t like Aunt Avery?”
He chuckled bitterly, but he didn’t answer her nephew.
“She made us all famous,” Ian said. “She put us on TV.”
“The fire happened a while ago,” Dawson said. “There was no reason to bring it up again. No reason to bring up the past at all…”
He wasn’t going to forgive her. It didn’t matter how much she apologized. She had blown it with him. She drew in a shuddery breath. It had grown cold despite the fire he’d started.
“You know,” she said, trying to hold her voice steady, “I better not stay. I have to get up early tomorrow and fly home.” Because Chicago was home now. Northern Lakes was not and never would be again. Since her job was probably all she’d ever have, she needed to return to it.
She reached for her nephews. “So give me hugs in case I don’t see you before I leave,” she said.
This time they didn’t fight her. They let her kiss their cheeks. They even hugged her tightly, as if they could somehow sense the pain she felt inside—the loss.
Whatever she could have had with Dawson she’d destroyed. She’d let her ambitions get in the way.
“What about Dawson?” Ian asked. “Aren’t you going to give him a kiss goodbye?”
His body tensed. And she was sure he would refuse. But when he said nothing, she stepped forward, stood on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his cheek. Stubble had already broken through the skin, making his jaw dark and bristly. She found it as sexy as everything else about him. She whispered, “I’m sorry…”
But she wasn’t sure if he heard her. Or if he cared. He said nothing to her as she walked away. He just let her go.
*
EVEN NOW, HOURS LATER, Dawson could feel the imprint of her lips against his cheek. As furious as he was with her, he’d been tempted to turn his head, tempted to let her lips brush over his.
She was leaving. He might never see her again. Sure, she would return to see her family. She obviously loved the twins and her sister. But he might not be here when she returned. He could be working a fire out West. Or in Canada, even…
He might only see her on the news from now on. The thought should have given him some relief, should have made him feel safer. He couldn’t fall for her if he didn’t see her. But it was too late.
He’d already fallen for her. Not that it mattered. She had to know doing the special feature on him would end whatever had started between them.
She didn’t care about him. She’d only used him for her story. That was all she cared about, her career. He shuddered.
The boys were shivering, too, despite the heat blasting from the truck vents. Dawn had just barely broken when he pulled up in their driveway. The night had gotten unseasonably cold. They hadn’t been equipped with the subzero temperature sleeping bags they’d had on the Boy Scout camping trip. So he’d decided to bring them home early.
It wasn’t as if he’d gotten any sleep anyway. He’d lain awake, his body aching for Avery. Maybe he should have let her stay. But even if he’d agreed, she probably would have left Northern Lakes. He didn’t doubt she was flying home to Chicago. There was no reason for her to stay here anymore.
She’d done her story. At least it had been on him and not the arsonist. If she’d given the arsonist the attention she’d given Dawson…
He shuddered again.
“You’re cold, too?” Ian asked, his teeth chattering.
“Yes,” Dawson said. “Sorry we weren’t more prepared for the trip, guys.” He would have been had he not been so furious with their aunt. Then he might have checked the weather and known how low the temperature was going to drop. But he’d been preoccupied. “We’ll do it again.”
“We will?” Kade asked hopefully.
Dawson nodded. “Of course.”
“But I thought you were mad at Aunt Avery,” Ian said.
He was. He wouldn’t lie to the boys and try to deny it. “I’m not mad at you two,” he said.
“But we talked about you, too,” Ian said.
Dawson felt a
pang of regret. It was their story, too. They should have been able to tell it without feeling guilty about it. “That’s fine,” he assured them. “I’m okay with that.” A tap on his window drew his attention from the boys. He rolled it down and Kim Pritchard leaned in.
“I have hot chocolate waiting for the two of you,” she told the boys. As the back door of his quad cab pickup opened, she added, “Thank Mr. Hess for taking you camping.”
“Thank you!” they called out in unison. But they headed quickly for the house.
“I have coffee, too, or more hot chocolate if you’d like,” she offered him.
He shook his head.
Kim leaned farther into his open window and glanced around. “So did you kill her?” Obviously she’d seen the special feature and had known how opposed to it he’d been.
“No.”
Finally Kim leaned back and studied his face. “She didn’t crash your camping trip?”
He felt the muscle twitch along his jaw.
“Oh, she did,” Kim said. “You sure you didn’t kill her? If I check their backpacks, will the boys have new badges for helping dispose of a body?”
A chuckle slipped out despite his effort to hold it in. He liked Avery’s sister. Hell, most of the time he liked Avery…when she wasn’t being a nosy reporter.
“She left on her own,” he assured her sister. “Said she had an early flight.”
Kim snorted. “First I’ve heard of it. And she would have had me drop her at the airport if she had a flight.”
“I’m not surprised she’d lie,” he said.
Kim smacked his shoulder. “My sister isn’t a liar.”
He arched a brow.
“Did she ever tell you she wouldn’t do the feature?” Kim asked.
“No,” he reluctantly admitted.
“Then she didn’t lie to you,” Kim pointed out. “And from what she told me, she needed a big story to keep her job at the station.”
“What?”
“The news business is cutthroat,” she explained. “She has to fight for airtime.”
He’d had no idea. But it still didn’t excuse what she’d done, how she’d used him. “I made it clear that I didn’t want to be the focus of her feature,” Dawson said. “And clearly she did lie about having a flight this morning.”
Kim shrugged. “Maybe she didn’t,” she said. “She might have driven herself and left the Jeep at the airport.”
The thought of her being gone had his shoulders slumping and Kim smiling. “What?” he asked at her odd reaction.
Her smile widened and she said, “You love her.”
Feeling as if he’d been punched, Dawson gasped. Then he sucked in a breath to replace the one he’d expelled. And he smelled it. He dragged in a deep breath.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to make you hyperventilate.”
Her comment had scared him. But what he smelled scared him more. He pushed open the driver’s door and stepped out. It was early for someone to have started a bonfire—too late for one to still be burning from the night before. But it was cold so maybe someone had started a fire in their hearth. It didn’t smell like just wood smoke to him, though. It smelled like gasoline.
He studied the sky on both sides of the road. It was just a puff—just a slight sheen of smoke rising above the trees. But he knew what it meant and he knew where it was coming from.
Kim reached out and grasped his arm as the realization dawned on her. Her voice rising with fear, she asked, “That’s coming from Avery’s place, isn’t it?
The houses were far enough apart on the lake that there was no mistaking what was on fire.
Avery’s cottage. And if she hadn’t taken a flight out, Avery was probably asleep inside…
17
EVEN CLOSED, HER eyes began to burn; tears leaked out their corners. She blinked. But her vision didn’t clear. Had she had a bad dream? Was she crying?
She’d felt like it last night when Dawson had been so cold to her, when he hadn’t even given her a chance to apologize. But her nose burned, too. Then she drew in a breath that singed her lungs.
Smoke. Something was on fire. And it wasn’t just a piece of paper burning in the fireplace. This was more than that.
The cottage was on fire.
She struggled to get up, but the sheets were tangled around her. She’d slept restlessly, involuntarily reaching out for Dawson. How had she gotten used to sleeping with him so quickly after all the years she’d slept alone?
She fell—hard—onto the floor. Her hand fumbled across something soft. A shirt had been left next to the bed. So had a pair of yoga pants. She dragged them on quickly. And then, staying close to the floor, she headed toward the window; it was her closest means of escape.
But when she pulled the curtains aside, she found the window was already black. The heat of the flames had scorched the glass. The fire was right outside her bedroom—the flames crackling as they began to consume the wood siding.
She screamed.
The person claiming to be the arsonist hadn’t been issuing empty threats. He’d been serious. She was afraid of him now—afraid of what he’d done. Too late, she realized she should have taken him seriously from the beginning. Gone to the police, or at least told Dawson.
Had he started a fire outside her every escape route? Was there no way out? The smoke filled her bedroom now. The only air she could breathe was at the floor. She got down on her belly and crawled toward the door.
Hopefully he hadn’t gotten inside—hopefully he hadn’t started a fire in the living room, too. Or maybe he was out there, waiting for her.
The crackling of the flames grew louder, but she heard a crash above that noise—one so loud the house shook. Had something exploded?
She had put herself in some dangerous situations before to get a story. But she had never imagined that she might die like this. Her throat was burning, but she managed one more scream—just as the door to her bedroom flew open and slammed against the wall.
She could see boots—but just boots. The smoke obscured the rest of him except for a tall and bulky shadow. Was this the arsonist? Was he going to make certain his fire claimed a victim this time?
Strong hands grasped her arms. An arm wound beneath her legs as she was lifted. She recognized those arms—that strength even before she got close enough to see his face. “Dawson…”
She’d thought he was out in the woods camping with the boys. How had he known she needed him?
He moved quickly, rushing back through her living room to the front door. It was morning. It had to be. But the smoke had darkened the sky.
“Did you call an ambulance?” he asked someone.
“Yes,” Kim replied, her voice cracking with tears. “Is she…?”
She fought to lift her head—to meet her sister’s gaze. “I’m…” She coughed, her throat and eyes continuing to burn.
Dawson laid her down on the ground. And she shivered with fear. Was he leaving her here? As angry as he’d been with her, she was surprised he’d rescued her at all.
But he was Dawson Hess. He couldn’t stop himself from being a hero.
Her sister dropped to her knees beside her. “I called the ambulance. Help’s coming.”
She didn’t need help. She just needed Dawson. Then he was back—with an oxygen mask he put over her mouth and nose. The burst of clean air made her cough some more before she could actually manage to take it into her burning lungs.
She pulled the mask aside to murmur, “My house…” She loved that little colorful cottage. Had the flames consumed it already—the way they would have consumed her if Dawson hadn’t broken in her front door? It dangled from damaged hinges. So much for her new dead bolt…
He slipped away again. But he didn’t come back to her—he moved toward the house. Where was he going? He had something in his hand, but she couldn’t figure out what. Tears still streaming from her eyes, she couldn’t see clearly. But she couldn’t miss when
he walked back into the cottage—back into the fire.
She pulled the mask aside again to scream. “No!” But her voice was just a raspy whisper.
Kim’s arm slid around her shoulders. “You’ll be okay.”
She wasn’t worried about herself. She was worried about him.
“I hear the sirens now,” Kim said.
Avery could hear nothing but the crackling of the flames and her pulse pounding in her ears. “Dawson…”
Kim glanced nervously toward the house, too. “I think he’s trying to put out the fire.”
But it was too big. And he didn’t have his equipment. He had already risked his life to save hers. He didn’t need to save her house. It was just a house. He was so much more important. Finally Avery heard the sirens, too. She hoped it was the rest of the crew—that they would save him as he’d saved her.
*
DAWSON THOUGHT HE’D been angry with her for running that special feature on him. That was nothing compared to how furious he was now. Thankfully the doctor had just given her a clean bill of health—because he intended to kill her.
But he hesitated outside her hospital room, trying to slow his racing heart. And voices drifted out to him.
“You’re lucky Dawson brought the boys back early,” Kim said, and her voice cracked with emotion. “He’s the one who noticed the smoke.”
Her voice raspy from that smoke, Avery replied, “I’m almost surprised he rescued me. He was furious with me for doing that story on him.”
Dawson pushed open the door and stepped into the room. Both women turned to him with wide eyes. “That was nothing compared to how mad I am now,” he said. And he slapped a piece of paper onto the tray across her bed.
When he focused on her—looking so slight and vulnerable propped against the pillows in the hospital bed—his anger evaporated, leaving him with only what he’d felt that morning. Fear.
“What’s that?” Kim asked.
But Avery didn’t. She knew. “Where’d you find it?” she asked instead.
“This one was under your door,” he said. “I didn’t notice it when I broke it down. I didn’t notice it until I went back inside to try to put out the fire.”
“You shouldn’t have gone back inside,” she said. “It’s just a house.”