“He’s with Darek. We need to get you inside.” He debated carrying her back up to the front, but probably couldn’t negotiate the big drifts. “I have to put you down for a moment.” He set her on the stoop, then used the butt of the flashlight to break a small pane in the glass by the door handle. He knocked the loose glass away and unlocked the latch.
The lower level was outfitted for winter and summer fun, with a large entryway filled with ski equipment, fishing gear, and lifejackets.
And further inside, a big stone fireplace and a small kitchenette.
He settled her onto a leather sofa, tugged off her snow-covered outer layers, and then knelt before her. “This will probably hurt.”
“It’s numb,” she said, but tightened her jaw.
He doubted it was numb enough to stop pain from spiking up her leg as he eased off the boot. And he was right, judging by the way she closed her eyes and made a tiny, pained whimper.
“I’m sorry—”
“It’s fine,” she said, leaning back as he finished pulling off the boot. He tossed it aside. and took a look at her ankle. Maybe not broken, but definitely badly sprained, given the swelling and the purple and red bruising along the bone. “Let’s get some snow on this, then I’ll make us a fire.”
But in the meantime, he had to stop her shaking. He found a small linen closet in the hallway and pulled out a thick wool blanket, brought it back and wrapped her up in it. Her body still shook.
He needed a fire, ASAP. Grabbing an empty stuff sack from the entryway, he stepped outside and filled it with snow. Then he returned and wrapped it around her ankle, moving her leg high on the sofa to elevate it.
Her eyes were closed.
“Hang in there, Mae.”
He could thank his Minnesota roots for one thing—he knew how to build a good fire, fast. Once he had a blaze going, heat filling the room, he dug around in the kitchenette and found some peppermint tea. He set an electrical kettle to boil while he took cardboard and plugged the broken window and cleaned up the entryway.
When she continued to shiver, he toed off his boots and slid onto the couch beside her, pulling her into his arms maybe as much for his own relief as to warm her. He held her against himself and pressed her cold hands between his own until they warmed.
No doubt she could feel his heartbeat, the elevated rate revealing exactly what she was doing to him. He nearly let his fingers weave into her silky locks, the smell of her hair twining through him.
“My body is on fire,” she said. She lifted her head, her eyes glassy in the firelight.
Mmmhmm. But he knew what she meant. “Yeah. Thawing is going to hurt.” He lifted her hands and inspected her fingertips. “You’re lucky not to have frostbite. You aren’t exactly dressed for an outdoor hike.”
“It’s the stupidest thing. I dressed up to impress Mariah.” She grimaced when she tried to move her ankle.
“How did you end up in the ditch?”
“I swerved to miss a deer.” She shook her head. “The deer fared better than me.”
“Funny how that works.” At least dressing up in winter still included wool socks, gloves, a heavy coat over her dress, and boots. “You do look really nice.” Nice. What kind of compliment was that? He cleared his throat.
“I look like Jack Frost.”
“Definitely not. Jack doesn’t wear a skirt.”
“Hilarious.” She shifted against him, the heat between them filling the space.
“So, why did you feel you needed to impress Mariah?”
“She’s going to marry Cameron Crawford. That’s the closest thing to a celebrity client I’ve ever had. Their recommendation—or not—could make or break my business.”
“You’re impressive, all on your own, Mae.” He met her eyes, caught in the glow of the firelight.
She stared back at him for a long moment before she tried to sit up. “I can’t do this.” She tugged the blanket around her shoulders.
“Can’t do what?”
“I can’t…” She looked away. “I can’t breathe around you, okay? And you can’t do that—you can’t…I don’t know—call me Mae. And be dependable and just…you know, rescue me!” She closed her eyes, shaking her head.
Rescue her? But, “Yeah? Why not?” He pushed the hair from her face and snagged her hands into his again. “What if I like rescuing you?”
She just swallowed, then looked at him, her eyes reddened. Oh no, she wasn’t going to cry, was she?
“Because then I might like it too,” she said quietly. “And then I’ll be in big trouble.”
Silence slipped between them, his heartbeat banging in his chest.
She looked away from him. “Maybe I’m already in big trouble.”
He frowned.
“I could have died out there if you hadn’t found me. I was lying out there in the cold, my foot stuck in those stupid planks, and I couldn’t believe that was how God would end things. I’ve never felt so alone in my life.”
He reached for her, pulling her against himself. She surrendered. “Mae. You aren’t alone.”
But she sighed, then pushed away from him. “That’s the problem, Cole.”
He shook his head because he didn’t see that as a problem at all.
“I started begging God to please, please help me.” And now her eyes were filling. “And He sent you. I’m not sure what to do with that.”
He could think of several things to do with that, regardless of whether or not it was luck or God who’d brought him here. Because with everything inside him, he wanted to rescue her. To pull her against himself and hold her, and frankly, it was starting to drive him more than a little crazy.
Was it getting hotter in here?
“It’s just like the time you saved me from drowning in the lake.”
“I don’t think things were quite that dire, but I’m not sure what you were thinking trying to swim all the way across the inlet.”
“I wanted to impress you. Show you I could keep up with you just like the Christiansen boys.”
“You never had to prove anything to me.” No, because she didn’t have to try to impress him that summer. That was the summer after he’d come to live in Deep Haven. He’d realized his childhood friend didn’t look like “one of the guys” anymore. Nope. And she did crazy things to his twelve-year-old brain. Kind of like his adult brain, now. Only this was far worse.
“Yeah. Kids do silly things. But then you rescued me, and…and then, after the summer was over, you left.” She looked up at him. “But that’s the thing. You’ve always been there to step in and help. I really wasn’t surprised you became a Ranger.”
He swallowed. “You know my dad was in the National Guard.”
“Yeah. I remember you talking about it.”
“They’d have family weekends sometimes. Like, all-day outdoor picnics and activities. I loved tagging along behind him.” His throat thickened. “One weekend, they let us go on this huge obstacle course—well, it was huge to me. I was only seven at the time. He and I were teammates and I remember him boosting me over the last obstacle. A towering wall.” Oh, Dad. He could still see his dad’s arms thrown over his head in victory. “We won. I snagged the flag at the top and, I don’t know—that feeling of being part of something bigger than myself? It stuck with me. I wanted so much to be like him.”
“You are, Cole. You’re exactly like him. You make a difference. A huge difference. I just wish—” She stopped herself. Didn’t finish her sentence.
“Wish what?”
“I just wish you didn’t then leave.”
He frowned. “Are you talking about the fact I left Deep Haven?”
She was rubbing her hands, as if trying to ease away any lingering cold, and he took them in his grip again.
She looked down at the floor.
“You know I didn’t have a choice, right? I told you—”
“No, I don’t.” She pulled her hands away from him. “I just heard rumors about social servic
es showing up at school—you didn’t really say anything about it, other than you promised to write. Promised to come back. And then you were gone. Not a single response to any of the letters I sent…then they started coming back as returned mail. I thought I’d never see you again.” Her voice softened and she looked up at him. “And then you rescued me again, from the ditch.”
Yes, admittedly, he saw a pattern.
She sat up and met his eyes. “Cole? What happened before you left?”
One would expect after all these years he’d be ready for that conversation, especially after everything she already knew. He sat up, put his feet on the floor, and stared into the fire.
She leaned against him and wove her hand into his.
“One night, my grandpa woke me up around two in the morning. He was in a rage, reeking of alcohol. Angry. Miserable and looking for someplace to put all that. He pulled me out of bed and started yelling at me, dragging me across the floor. I begged him to let me go.” He closed his eyes. Remembered flailing to get loose from his grandfather’s grip. “Somewhere during our scuffle, we knocked a chair over. He picked it up like he was going to hit me with it. I just kept thinking—”
He paused, scrubbed a hand over his eyes.
Her hand in his squeezed.
It was enough.
“I kept thinking if he caught me…I wouldn’t survive. He was so mad. I was really scared and I ran. I ran out the front door and I just kept running. Barefoot, in my pajamas.”
“Where did you go?”
He could still feel the cold pavement under his feet, the chill in the fall air. “Lucky for me, Eli Hueston, the old sheriff, was on his way home. He spotted me and stopped his car.” He swallowed. “He took one look at me, shucked off his coat and wrapped it around me, and hauled me to the police station.” He paused. Let the memory settle. “He gave me some clean clothes from his locker.”
She raised a brow. “He was four times bigger than you.”
“I didn’t say they fit. But when I changed, he saw the bruises and he said I wasn’t going back home.” He turned to her, saw her blinking back tears. “The next day, he took me by the house to get some things and change before dropping me off at school. I think he had words with Grandpa, though. Then the social worker came and I told you I was leaving. She sent me to Duluth. Into foster care.”
Megan was quiet. Then, “I knew it was bad. I didn’t know it was that bad. I should have figured it out—found a way to help you.”
He looked at her. “You can’t blame yourself. Not at all. I didn’t want people to know. I bounced around a few foster homes, and then when I graduated, I joined the Army. It sort of became home for me.”
“And you left Deep Haven long behind.”
He nodded.
“What did you do as a Ranger?”
He let out a long breath. “Sometimes quick raids on a compound. Seizing and securing airfields. I don’t know.” He ran his hand through his hair. “All kinds of stuff.”
“And you liked it?”
“For a long time, yeah. It felt like I had a purpose for the first time in my life. And I was good at it.” The logs in the fire shifted, popped.
“So, why’d you leave? What changed?”
He paused, considered the best way to filter the ugly story. “We were on the ground working with a foreign army to combat terrorist cells and were handed a high-risk mission involving an ISIS leader. Normally, we’d train with everyone on the mission. Memorize our exact plan. Have all our contingencies. It wasn’t done, despite David and me speaking up.” He shook his head. “It seemed someone in Washington wanted to have a token achievement to put into the press. The odds were against us from the beginning.”
The memory of the sunrise ambush still made the hairs on his neck stand on end. “We didn’t have the proper air support for the mission and the enemy was waiting for us. Lost communications with one of our vehicles and got separated. Turned back. Got pinned down. David nearly died during the firefight and if it hadn’t been for a medic who defied orders…it isn’t likely he’d have survived.” He shook his head. “She probably tanked her career that day, but David survived because of it.” He looked back into the fire. “Unfortunately, not everyone was so lucky.” The weight of it still crushed him. “We lost two good men that day.”
“I’m sorry.” Her fingers curled around his even tighter.
“I decided it was better to get out than get myself in trouble.” He played with a silky lock of hair that fell against his fingertips. “I got into a few scuffles that could have landed me in some disciplinary action. We were back in-country. David was healing and he felt the same way—it was time to get out.” Maybe leaving is what he did best.
“And now you want to be a Deputy U.S. Marshal.”
“Yes, ma’am. That’s what David’s doing now. He’s been putting in a good word for me, hoping to get an interview lined up. A new career. A way we can stick together.”
“Where you can leave Deep Haven behind, permanently.”
He frowned, but nodded. “He’s in DC and they have Deputy Marshal openings there.” He blew out a long breath. “David—he’s family to me.”
She tried to get up, then winced and fell back.
“What are you doing?” He caught her, pulling her into his arms.
“I think I’m warm enough. And I need to get back to Josh.”
“I think you’re still cold. You should stay here.”
She looked up at him, her breathing hard. Her eyes had the power to make him completely lose his mind, especially when added to the confusion, even tenderness, in her gaze.
“Is that what your scar is from? When David got hurt?” Her fingers skimmed the jagged mark.
“No.” He cringed. “Nothing heroic or courageous.”
“Really?” She scrunched up her nose. “I hardly believe that—but you don’t have to talk about it.”
She was still looking at him like he was Captain America and, as much as he liked it, he couldn’t mislead her. “No, really.” He let out an embarrassed laugh. “It wasn’t.”
She tilted her head, gave him a sidelong glance.
“Fine. I was playing an impromptu game of football in the barracks with the guys. Slipped. Sliced it open on the metal desk.” He still remembered the looks on his squad’s faces when the blood began staining everything. He knew he’d need stitches and there was no way they weren’t going to get in trouble for it.
She gasped, her hand over her mouth. “Seriously?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“So, no more football in the barracks?”
“We were smart about a lot of things. I can’t say that was one of them—but we did make sure we didn’t have metal objects in the end zone from then on.”
She shook her head and laughed. The sound of it threaded through him, settling in his chest and bolstering a different kind of courage.
“Since we’re reminiscing, are we ever going to talk about the first time I kissed you?”
“You never kissed me.” She quirked a brow at him, the firelight dancing across her face.
He gave her a smile. “Not yet, but if we’re going to be able to talk about it…”
Her eyes widened, and his gaze roamed her face.
Then she smiled, and he couldn’t stop himself. He pulled her close, leaning down so his lips brushed across hers.
“Mmm.” The sound from her came out soft and sweet. Then she just about stopped his heart when she curled her arms around his neck and pulled him down to her, returning his kiss with a hunger he hadn’t expected.
She tasted like mint and winter and the thrill of flying down Honeymoon Bluff. She was fun and familiarity and yet, suddenly surprising.
He deepened their kiss, exploring the uncharted trails of their relationship. He didn’t know how he ended up with her cradled under him, but footsteps thundering down the stairs broke them apart. He still held her in his arms, however, when the basement door burst open.
Megan froze, her eyes wide as Jensen Atwood stood in the doorway, his hands on his hips, a dubious smile on his face. “I’m glad to see you’re both okay.”
Okay was one word for it.
Another might be breathless, caught in a place he’d never imagined.
Nothing had changed.
Megan had spent the past two days trying to shake off the kiss Jensen had interrupted, uncertain if she was grateful for the intrusion or disappointed. Not that she should have been kissing Cole Barrett, former Army Ranger and soon-to-be Deputy U.S. Marshal. But she’d been confined to her sofa, her ankle on the mend, which gave her exactly the right vantage point to watch him from her apartment window, in and out all day, working on the house.
And slowly, she’d realized—while kissing him had rocked her entire world, it had clearly meant nothing to him.
Megan stood and looked out the window. He was still marching full speed ahead on his house repairs, and it wouldn’t be long before the For Sale sign would go in the yard. And Cole would be gone. Of course he would be.
He’d told her that from the first.
But she couldn’t get past the fact that her hero was leaving town. Leaving her. Again.
“This is really bad, Ivy,” Megan said, watching him carry in Sheetrock.
“Your cookies?” Ivy asked from her barstool perch in the kitchen.
“Him.” The oven timer buzzed and Megan limped to the kitchen to pull the cookie sheet out. She set it on the cooling rack and looked at her happily married friend with a sigh. “I’m falling for him.”
“And?”
“And I can’t fall for him.”
“And the way you not fall for him is by baking cookies?” Ivy’s question was charged with all kinds of accusations.
“Yes. Chocolate chip cookies. And I’m not sure I’m going to share them with you.” She began to lift the cookies off the sheet.
“Why is it every time I turn around lately, you’re baking something?” Ivy reached for a gooey cookie, catching it in her hand before it fell apart. “Let’s see, there were the scones. The coffee cake. Brownies you claimed were for the team. The lasagna—with garlic bread. You’re going to fatten that guy up.”
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