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Despite the long to-do list, it all faded when Kiera woke in my bed like an adorable kitten seducing me. The stuff on my list transformed into things I wanted to do to her. Her magical touch sent electrical currents coursing through me. When a man experienced this kind of exceptional bliss, nothing else mattered. The skim of her elegant fingers over my skin illuminated nerve endings that shot straight into my dormant heart, waking it up. Because of the potency, I knew what true desire felt like, and there was no going back.

I wanted more. The “more” meant something I wasn’t ready to admit yet.

Putting everything aside for now, I ambled to my office and got ready to work. I checked on the status of the new security cameras I’d purchased last night before hopping into bed with Kiera. They were due to arrive before five this evening. I’d forwarded the details to Hank’s email. I shipped the cameras to the local warehouse for Hank to pick up to avoid any suspicion, in case the person responsible for the fire was still around. It could be a campground worker for all I knew. It was safe to consider everyone as the enemy for now. Hank said he’d send me the recordings from his camera this morning.

True to his word, I saw a link to a shared drive and downloaded the files. I appreciated dependable people—those who kept their word. The world was a bleak and dangerous place, and a man who kept his word was rare.

I reviewed Hank’s files and sighed. He was right; the quality sucked. They were too pixelated. I could barely see the figures around Kiera’s cabin. For someone who lived there and was used to the surroundings, he could make sense of the blurry sections better than someone like me. Despite the low quality, I made out two figures around the cabin at different intervals. When the fire occurred, the smoke blocked out everything. I fast forwarded until I saw another figure peeking into the dumpster.

Who was this person? What was he or she looking for? Was this the same person sneaking around Kiera’s cabin, or someone new? Or could this be the person who had attacked Bruno and stole items at the main lodge?

The fire department had deemed the cabin fire was arson. An idiot could have told them that. The stove, microwave, and refrigerator were still standing. I was no fire investigator, but one glance told me the flames didn’t start there. It was in the living room, the wall that faced Hank’s apartment.

Intuition told me something dangerous was at play here. Was the person searching the dumpster as a thief hoping to find treasures he could sell? Or was there something hidden in the cabin that he wanted?

The PI would have smart software that could enhance the quality of the videos. I sent the PI the email with the link. Maybe I could see more with a better resolution. Regardless of clarity, these videos confirmed that three individuals were around Kiera’s cabin. One of them had burned it down.

With that task crossed off my list, I spent an hour replying to work emails and made some phone calls to my management team. When that was done, I turned my attention to Bruce St. Pierre. I’d done research on him last night but didn’t find anything useful, so I’d asked the PI for assistance, and he delivered. As I skimmed the data, a skewed character formed in my head. Bruce was a follower, not a leader, though I was certain he’d object to that. He barely graduated from the police academy and worked as a security guard for a large law firm in Dallas before becoming a cop for the last five years. He was married with two sons and had been reprimanded a few times by the department.

I smiled when the information got interesting. Juicy developments were the wild card in a negotiation. The things he did—or was still doing—should put him in prison for a long time.

Bruce had booked a few days at a fishing resort about an hour’s drive from here. Today was his first day there. It was time Bruce and I had a conversation. If he didn’t give me honest answers, I’d make sure he knew that although I was a doctor who healed people, I was excellent at killing them too.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-FIVE

KIERA

Despite losing my belongings, I quickly regained my balance thanks to Forrest. The way he took care of things—took care of me—made me feel that everything was going to be all right. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d experienced this much anxiety.

He didn’t want payment for the computer and asked for kisses instead. I didn’t know what to do with this man. He resolved my financial issues without even knowing it.

I’d received a text from Bruno asking if I was interested in photographing an Australian fashion brand in Sydney. Though I appreciated the opportunity, I’d declined because—thanks to Forrest—my financial anxiety wasn’t as acute and the job would take me across the globe, far away from my mom.

The photo session with Olivia finished quicker than I expected. We only had a few swimwear ensembles to photograph, and I took more than usual. Since she brought her laptop, I used it to download the photos from my camera’s SD card and uploaded them to the shared drive. I could access them tonight or tomorrow for some edits. Olivia took fabulous pictures, so there wouldn’t be a lot of edits.

“That’s a wrap, Liv.” I logged out of her computer. “Thanks for letting me use it.”

“Anytime.” She tucked it back into her bag. We brought all the clothes back to the car and headed out. “I’m meeting up with a friend for lunch. Want to join me?”

I already had plans to go shopping. “Thanks for asking, but I’m going to pass. I want to check out the area and get a souvenir for my mom. We have that second gig in two days, and I’m flying back to Providence right after.”

“Yes, go shopping. I can drop you off at the shopping district. Do you need me to pick you up after?”

“No, I’ll be fine.”

Olivia pulled over to the street parking. “Y’all have fun, babe!”

I chuckled at her attempt at a Southern drawl, got out, and waved. “Thanks for the ride.”

The shopping district was two blocks away from Forrest’s hotel, so I could walk back if I didn’t melt from the blazing sun. With my camera bag and purse in tow, I strode down the sidewalk in my sandals, admiring all the little shops that illustrated the community.

I stopped by a window with an assortment of cowboy hats, boots, and leather accessories. An image of Forrest in jeans, a T-shirt, cowboy boots, and a cowboy hat sparked in my mind, making me shiver.Sure would like a ride on that cowboy.Though the image was hotter than the current temperature, Forrest was no cowboy. He was a polished and sophisticated man who preferred to bathe in luxury and propriety—though he showed me plenty of impropriety in bed.

Despite that, he was also a hot farmer who got his hands dirty by growing medicinal plants. So, although he wasn’t a cowboy, he was my incomparable farmer, doctor, forward thinker, and entrepreneur. I made a mental note to place an order online for a cowboy hat and cowboy boots and have them shipped to Providence.

My stomach growled, and I entered an eatery with a pink awning to get a turkey sandwich. With my lunch and lemonade, I went to the outdoor patio and sat at a table with a large pink umbrella.

I’d spoken to my mom before the photo shoot and she’d sounded tired but well. She hadn’t gotten any worse, but she hadn’t gotten any better either. Mom had forgotten to send me her health records because she’d had some friends visiting. But she’d promised to send them today.