Page 3

I feel a certainty I haven't felt in years, maybe ever. The completely irrational thought forms before I can stop it:She's important. She matters in ways I don't understand yet.

I push the thought away. Still, I hear myself say, "We'll figure something out." The words hold a weight I hadn't intended.

The medical team approaches with a stretcher, and I step back, forcing myself to return to the professional distance I maintain with everyone. This attraction is dangerous. Inappropriate. She's barely out of college, for God's sake, and I'm forty with enough baggage to sink us both.

As they load her into the ambulance, our eyes meet again and I can’t look away.

three

Sheryl

Beep.Beep.Beep.

The rhythmic sound penetrates my consciousness before anything else. My throat feels like I've swallowed a ball of sandpaper, and my eyes burn when I try to open them. A hospital room comes into focus.

"You're awake. Good." A nurse appears at my bedside, checking the monitor beside me. "How's the breathing? Any tightness?"

I try to answer but dissolve into a coughing fit instead.

"Take it easy," she says, handing me a cup of water. "Smoke inhalation. Doctor says you're lucky. Another few minutes..."

The memory crashes back. My cabin. The fire. My manuscript.

"My laptop," I croak after sipping the water.

"The fire chief brought this by." She points to a plastic bag on the side table containing my laptop, charger, and a singed notebook. "Said they managed to save a few things from the desk area."

Relief floods through me until another realization dawns. "Where am I supposed to go? The cabin is…" My voice gives out, replaced by another coughing spell.

"Darkmore Medical Clinic," the nurse answers, misunderstanding my question. "Doctor Bertram will be by shortly to check on you. If your oxygen levels remain stable, you might be discharged this afternoon."

After she leaves, I sink back against the pillow and try to organize my thoughts. I need a place to stay. I need to finish my book. I need to call Melanie to explain the delay.

A knock on the doorframe interrupts my mental catastrophizing.

And there he is. The man from last night.My rescuer.

If I thought he was intimidating in the flickering firelight, he's downright overwhelming in daylight. Taller than I realized with broad shoulders filling out his Search and Rescue jacket. Dark hair peppered with silver at the temples. A neatly trimmed beard framing a face that could have been carved from the mountains themselves. Deep-set eyes that hold mine for a moment before glancing away.

My heart monitor betrays me with a quickened beep.

"Ms. Cabot." His voice is deep, resonant. "How are you feeling?"

Like a character from one of my novels just walked off the page, I think, but say instead, "Better, thank you. And please, call me Sheryl."

He nods once, still standing in the doorway like he's not sure whether to enter. "Alex Brennan. We met briefly last night."

"You saved my life." The words come out with more emotion than I intended. "Thank you doesn't seem adequate."

He shifts uncomfortably. "Just doing my job."

A million questions race through my mind, but before I can ask any of them, he steps aside to allow a doctor to enter.

"Ms. Cabot, I'm Dr. Bertram." She picks up my chart. "Your oxygen levels have improved significantly, but I'd like to keep you under observation for at least twenty four hours. Smoke inhalation can have delayed effects."

"Twenty four hours?" I repeat, panic rising. "I can't stay that long. I need to figure out where I'm going to live, salvage what I can from the cabin, call my agent—"

"The cabin suffered significant damage," Alex interrupts, his voice matter-of-fact. "The bedroom area is destroyed. Main room has extensive smoke and water damage."