by Pamela Clare
“Looks to me like the driver took off, unless the car fell from the heavens or jumped into the water all by itself.” Megs had her own unique sense of humor.
“Right.”
Still, they had no choice but to keep up the search. They couldn’t afford to make assumptions. For all they knew, there might have been multiple people in the vehicle, any one of whom could have washed away. Or perhaps the driver had self-rescued and then collapsed of injuries along the embankment somewhere.
“Let’s keep looking.”
Something buzzed.
Vic’s eyes shot open, her heart giving a hard kick.
She reached for the phone.
Abigail.
“For God’s sake.” It was just after seven.
What was so important that Abigail had to get in touch with her at seven in the morning on a Sunday while Vic was on vacation?
Grumpy from lack of sleep, her head aching, Vic read her boss’s email—more questions about the Merced campaign. She forwarded it to Jeff, who was supposed to be covering for her, then put the phone on Do Not Disturb and tossed it to the foot of the bed. She was going to have to find a way to put limits on her boss, or Abigail would be calling her in the middle of Lexi’s wedding.
She tried to drift off again, but her headache made sleep impossible, the throbbing ache like a migraine. That margarita must have packed more of a punch than she’d realized. What she needed was coffee.
She crawled out of bed and walked into the bathroom, flicking on the light and staring in dismay at her own reflection. “Great.”
She looked like she hadn’t gotten enough sleep—which was true. She’s stayed up far too late watching the interviews Eric had taped, a few of which had made her cry. She’d made a few obvious cuts, then organized all of the photographs into folders so they’d be easy to find.
She showered, dried her hair, and then put on her makeup. The pain in her skull was unrelenting, her muscles sore from yesterday. When she was satisfied that her appearance wouldn’t scare anyone, she followed the scent of fresh-backed croissants and coffee down a flight of stairs to the inn’s dining room, where a buffet breakfast was being set out for guests.
“Good morning.” Sandrine, the inn’s French pastry chef, greeted her with a basket of croissants, her accent charming. “Did you sleep well?”
“Yes, thank you.” Vic went straight for the coffee, leaving room in her cup for cream, which sat nearby in a little porcelain pitcher. “This smells delicious.”
She wasn’t truly hungry, but she ate anyway, the coffee helping to clear the fog from her head. If only it would chase away her headache…
By the time Lexi called an hour later, she was feeling a little better.
“Be sure to dress in layers. It’s cold up there.”
In June? Okay.
“See you in about fifteen minutes.”
Vic changed out of the skirt and blouse she’d been wearing into a pair of jeans, a tank top, a fleece jacket, warm socks, and hiking boots. She had just stepped out of the inn’s front door when Austin’s SUV drove into the parking lot, Eric’s truck behind him.
She waved. “Hey.”
Lexi waved back, an excited smile on her face. “We’re taking two vehicles in case the guys get called out. Britta’s riding with Eric this morning, so hop in.”
Vic climbed into the backseat behind Lexi, doing her best to be cheerful despite her aching head. “Good morning.”
Cheyenne, Austin’s younger sister, sat in the backseat, too. Tall like her brother, she wore her dark blond hair in a messy bun, sunglasses covering her eyes. She hadn’t wanted Austin to get back together with Lexi and had been a real bitch to Lexi at first. She’d eventually come around—which was good news because Vic didn’t have the energy to scratch her eyes out this morning.
“I heard you kicked ass at the res yesterday,” she said.
Vic pushed a smile onto her face. “It was a lot of fun.”
Lexi pivoted in her seat. “Did you get a good night’s sleep?”
“Yes.” Vic didn’t want to worry her with something as stupid as a headache. “I stayed up a little too late.”
She didn’t see the look that passed between Lexi and Austin.
They drove from Scarlet Springs along the Peak-to-Peak Highway, the scenery taking Vic’s breath away—snow-capped peaks, aspens with their white bark and tiny green leaves, meadows filled with wildflowers. Lexi, Chey, and Austin pointed out landmarks and named the peaks for her, the landscape something they knew well.
Then it dawned on her. “This is your office, isn’t it, Austin?”
He grinned. “Not bad, eh?”
“Pretty fantastic, I’d say.” What would life be like if she never had to set foot inside an office building again? She couldn’t even imagine it.
Almost an hour later, they drove through the entrance of Rocky Mountain National Park, stopping so that she could get out of the car and take photos—and gawk at a herd of elk that had taken up residence in the middle of the road.
“A Colorado traffic jam.” Eric came to stand beside her. “Check out that rack.”
Was he messing with her again, or was he talking about the elk’s antlers?
She refused to let Eric bait her. “He’s huge.”
“You should come back in the fall. During the rut, the bulls bugle and fight to establish dominance over harems of cows. You can stand here and hear bugling coming from all over this valley.”
“How like males to strut and brawl and make a lot of noise to get attention.”
He chuckled. “How like females to fall for that shit.”
She started to object, but hadn’t she done that with Stewart? Yes, she had. Stewart had put on a show and lured her right in. He’d had her like a fish on a hook the first night she’d met him. How could she have been so stupid?
She changed the subject. “How did it go last night?”
“It was just someone running the Scarlet Midnight Triathlon.”
“There was a triathlon last night?” Something didn’t make sense here.
Or maybe that was just her headache, which was getting worse.
Eric laughed. “The Scarlet Midnight Triathlon is made up of three events. First, you get drunk in Boulder. Second, you roll your vehicle into Scarlet Creek. Third, you run away.”
It was supposed to be a joke, but she didn’t find it funny. “Someone rolled their car into the creek and ran away?”
Eric nodded. “We found him hitchhiking a couple of miles up the road.”
“He’s lucky he wasn’t killed. What a stupid thing to do.”
“Honey, if we could cure stupid, I’d be out of a job.”
Eric parked at Forest Canyon Overlook, the parking lot overrun with tourists, snowflakes drifting lazily from an overcast sky. He glanced over at Britta, who was wearing only a tank top and shorts. “You want my jacket?”
Britta laughed. “I’m the idiot who didn’t bring a coat. I’ll be fine.”
They climbed out of the truck and met Lexi, Austin, Chey, and Victoria at the trailhead that would take them over the tundra to the actual overlook.
Vic snuggled into a purple fleece jacket, her hands in her pockets.
“Even the city girl had enough sense to bring warm layers,” Eric teased.
He got a laugh out of Britta, but Victoria didn’t even look up.
They headed up the trail, now above eleven thousand feet elevation. Lexi, Austin, and Chey were in the middle of a conversation about the wedding reception and didn’t seem to realize that Victoria was falling behind.
Eric held back. “Hey, are you okay?”
“Yes.” She was winded—not unusual for a flatlander. “Woke up … with a really bad headache. I shouldn’t … have had that margarita. I don’t want to … ruin it for everyone.”
“You’re not going to ruin anything, and it wasn’t the margarita.” He walked her to a bench. “Sit down. Stay here.”
“I’m not … a do
g.”
He ignored that, jogging to catch up with Austin and Lexi. “I’m taking Victoria down. She’s got altitude sickness.”
They stopped in their tracks.
“Really?” Lexi turned to look back at her friend. “God, why didn’t she say something?”
“What’s going on?” Austin was a paramedic, too.
“Bad headache, shortness of breath. She thought she had a hangover and didn’t want to complain. I’ll take her down and get her hydrated. We’ll catch up with you later.”
He turned and left them staring after him.
Victoria was right where he’d put her, but now there were tears on her cheeks. She pressed fingers to her temples. “Sorry to be a baby … but it really hurts.”
He knelt down, wiped away her tears with his thumbs. “You’re not being a baby. You’ve got altitude sickness.”
“Altitude sickness?”
He didn’t feel like taking the time to explain. “How long has it been since you’ve had a piggy-back ride?”
She got to her feet. “I can walk.”
So, she was going to be stubborn again.
“I know you can, but I’m not going to let you.” He knelt down, her arms going around his neck as he caught her legs and lifted her weight onto his back.
She gave a startled squeak as he got to his feet. “Where are we going?”
“I’m taking you to a lower elevation until you’re better.” He ignored the curious stares of tourists on their way up the trail. “Are you okay back there?”
“Oh, my God!” she whispered. “I’m being carried by a fireman!”
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’” If only the women of Scarlet were as impressed with his profession as Victoria was…
He set her on her feet beside his pickup, unlocked the door, and helped her into the passenger seat. Then he reached into the back and grabbed a bottle of water. “Drink. Lots of little sips. Got it?”
He headed back down Trail Ridge Road, hazarding the occasional glance her way. “Keep sipping.”
Her eyes were closed, her face tight with pain. “This didn’t happen last time.”
“Last year, Lexi had a broken leg, and you spent most of your time sitting indoors with her. You didn’t spend a day in the sun wakeboarding. I’ll bet money you’re dehydrated. That makes it worse.”
It took about thirty minutes to drop to nine thousand feet, the road crowded with tourists in RVs, campers, and family sedans.
“Do you feel any better?”
“No.”
He kept going all the way to the park’s entrance, but he didn’t have to ask to see that she was still hurting. “How do you feel about taking a little drive to visit my mother down in Boulder?”
Victoria didn’t even answer.
Chapter 4
Vic opened her eyes, stretched, glanced around her. Late afternoon sunshine spilled through homemade drapes adorned with images of balls—baseballs, footballs, soccer balls, basketballs. Posters of pickups and cars competed for wall space with posters of rock bands—Led Zeppelin, Boston, Journey, Metallica, U2.
Where was she exactly?
Eric’s bedroom.
Not his real bedroom, but the bedroom he’d had as a kid.
She’d had altitude sickness, and he’d brought her to his mother’s house, given her ibuprofen, taken her pulse, made her drink a lot of water, then told her to rest.
It had worked.
She sat up, both relieved and amazed to discover that her headache was gone. Then again, she was close to a mile lower in elevation than she’d been when Eric had carried her back to his truck.
Oh, God!
She’d been carried by a firefighter.
And, of course, she’d been in too much pain even to think of taking a selfie.
Damn.
She glanced around again, the innocent boyishness of the room putting a smile on her face. This is where teenage Eric had hung out back when he and Lexi and Austin had been in high school together and—
Lexi!
She must wonder what in the world was going on.
That thought had Vic out of bed and on her feet. She reached for her handbag, which sat on the small desk in the corner, and searched inside for her cell phone. It wasn’t there. It wasn’t in the pockets of the jacket she’d been wearing either. Maybe she’d left it in Eric’s truck.
She opened the bedroom door and followed the sound of voices down the hallway and through the living room, snatches of conversation drifting through the front screen door. Outside, Eric’s mother, Robin, was talking with her son, who was lying on his back beneath an old SUV, only his legs and a strip of bare abdomen visible.
“They cracked the cap on your transmission tank. Probably screwed it on too tight when you got the fluid changed. That’s where the leak’s coming from. I’ll run to the auto supply store and get you a new one and then top off your transmission fluid. That ought to take care of it.”
Vic stepped outside. “Hey.”
Robin’s head came around. “Hey, there. How do you feel?”
“Much better. Thank you.”
“I should thank you.” Robin looked down at her son, who was wriggling his way out from beneath the car. “I haven’t seen Eric for a while. You brought him home.”
A tall woman in her mid-fifties, she had a gentle demeanor that Vic had found instantly soothing when they’d arrived a few hours ago. Like Eric, she had brown hair, though hers was now streaked with gray. Apart from that and her eyes, there wasn’t much of a resemblance.
“It’s only been two weeks, Mom.” Eric’s head appeared, the muscles of his bare chest and belly shifting as he sat up. “She just likes to put me to work.”
Robin laughed, a happy twinkle in blue eyes that were so much like her son’s. “Don’t let him fool you. He puts himself to work when he comes here, doing things I can’t do by myself. I’m very lucky.”
Wiping his hands on a rag, Eric got to his feet, the damp hair at his temples and the beads of sweat on his chest telling Vic he’d been working outdoors for a while. He walked over to her, those blue eyes studying her, concern pulling his brows together in a frown. “How’s your head?”
“I feel fine. Thanks.” She tried to keep her eyes on his face and not his pecs with their dark curls. It wasn’t easy when his chest was even with her eyes. “Um … Do you know where my cell phone is? I need to let Lexi know what’s going on.”
“She knows. I’ve been keeping her posted.” He opened the front door for her.
“Oh. Thanks.” She walked indoors, following him back toward the kitchen.
“Your phone is in the fridge. The damned thing wouldn’t quit buzzing.”
“You put my phone in the refrigerator?” She hurried after him.
He walked into the kitchen, jerked open the refrigerator door, and pulled out her phone. “I didn’t want it waking you up.”
“Thanks … I think.” She took it from him and entered her password, her stomach sinking at the sight of the half dozen messages that waited for her.
It’s not him. He’s in prison.
Relief and irritation chased through her one after the other when she saw the emails were all from Abigail.
“Hey, if you don’t mind, I’d like to mow my mom’s lawn before we head back up to Scarlet.” He grabbed two glasses, filled them with ice and water. “It will only take about twenty minutes. Is that okay with you?”
“Of course.” She took the glass he gave her, looked up from her phone—and froze, her email inbox momentarily forgotten.
The muscles of Eric’s throat worked as he drank, a rivulet of sweat trickling slowly down his neck, his sun-kissed skin radiating heat. He finished drinking, set the glass down on the counter, and walked outside, leaving Vic standing like a statue, glass raised halfway to her lips.
“He likes you.”
Robin’s words took Vic by surprise, her gaze jerking from the window to the woman who sat beside her at the kitchen table.
“What do you mean?”
“He’s never brought a woman home before.”
“Wait. You think …?” Heat rushed into Vic’s cheeks. “It’s not like that. He didn’t bring me home home. I’m just here. I was sick and ... Eric and I … We’re just friends. Yeah. We’re not even good friends.”
“I can tell when my son is attracted to a woman.” She dropped this bombshell, then took a sip of her iced tea. “You’re attracted to him, too.”
“Well…” What could Vic say to this?
“Most women see the muscles, the badge, the bunker gear. What they don’t see is the man who still mows his mother’s lawn, who fixes her car, shovels her sidewalk in the winter, puts up her Christmas lights, and cleans the gutters on her house.” Robin’s love for her son was palpable, her blue eyes soft as she spoke about him.
“You two are close, aren’t you?”
Robin nodded. “He’s my only child. For a long time, it was just the two of us against the world. His daddy left Scarlet the day after I told him I was pregnant, so I raised Eric on my own.”
Vic supposed she ought to feel awkward hearing Eric’s life story. She didn’t know him that well. But there was something about his mother that put her at ease, that made her feel safe and at home. “That must have been tough for both of you.”
“It was tougher on him, I think. It’s hard for a boy to define himself as a man with no man in the house to act as a role model.”
Vic had to bite back a laugh. If there was one thing Eric did not seem to lack, it was a sense of his own masculinity. “He seems to have figured that out.”
This made Robin smile. “His friendship with Austin helped fill in the gaps. He spent a lot of time at Austin’s house, hanging with Austin and his father. They’re like brothers, those two.”
Altitude sickness must have scrambled Vic’s brains. There was no other way to explain what she said next. “Why is he still single?”
Robin glanced out the window into her backyard, where Eric was pushing the mower from one side to the other. “He had a lot of responsibility placed on his shoulders at a young age. Being fire chief, volunteering for the Team—that’s a lot of responsibility, too. Can you imagine having someone’s life in your hands?”