Page 6 of Flare (Bearpaw Ridge Firefighters #17)

Sanctuary

Six hours later

Emily clenched her steering wheel. Almost there!

She ’ d spent the long drive bracing herself for Andrew ’ s BMW to race up in the rearview mirror, or for some cosmic hand to snatch her back to Spokane before she made it here.

Now, rolling down Main Street in the dark, everything looked so safe. So normal . She wanted to sob with relief.

The town hadn ’ t changed much in the seven years since she ’ d last been here. Same antique brick buildings, same vintage iron lampposts with hanging flower baskets filled with petunias and pansies.

Home.

She slowed as she passed the Wildcat Springs Texas BBQ restaurant.

She ’ d worked there throughout high school.

She remembered the way Justin would say “ Emily, darlin’” in his soft Texas drawl whenever he wanted her to do something.

And how she and Maggie would sneak desserts from the cooler on their breaks, and eat them out on the restaurant ’ s back patio, where Justin couldn ’ t see them.

Okay, that ’ s new , she thought as she spotted a bright neon sign of a cartoon sabertooth tiger holding a barbecue fork and a platter of ribs above the doorway.

Two blocks later, Emily spotted the Cinnamon + Sugar Bakery & Café, its windows dark now.

At the far end of Main Street, the Bearpaw Ridge Police Station, still housed in the same old dry goods store building, was lit up even at this hour.

Emily slowed to a crawl as she passed it, letting the security camera catch her plate… just in case.

Part of her wanted to pull over, walk inside and spill everything about Andrew and his crooked family, about the files she ’ d uploaded to her cloud storage, about what she ’ d seen him do.

Later , she told herself. It was financial fraud, not murder. It could wait until she ’ d settled in and figured out her next move.

She wondered what Mom would say if she were still alive to hear about Emily running away from her fiancé.

But Mom was gone. And the pain of realizing she ’ d never again be able to share anything that happened—good or bad—was still as raw as the day Mom died.

Emily followed Main Street out of town, where it turned south and merged onto the highway. The Swanson ’ s Grizzly Creek Ranch was twenty minutes further down the road.

She gave Maggie a quick call. Her friend answered right away.

“ Glad to hear you made it. I ’ ll be waiting for you on the porch. Did I tell you I ’ m living in Great-Aunt Margaret ’ s old house these days?”

Emily remembered Margaret. She ’ d married a famous chef and moved away to live near Bearpaw Springs National Park.

Maggie gave her directions for how to find the house once Emily got to the ranch, and signed off with, “ See you soon! Can ’ t wait to catch up!”

As Emily continued driving, a half-moon rose over the mountains on the east side of the valley and cast just enough light to pick out the river-bottom pastures and the pine-blanketed slopes rising to jagged snow-tipped peaks. Her car was the only one on the road at this hour.

After spending nearly a decade in Spokane ’ s urban sprawl of condos and constant traffic, returning here felt like freedom.

Nineteen minutes later, she spotted a large wooden sign carved in the shape of a grizzly bear standing next to the highway.

A shiver crawled down Emily ’ s spine as the memory of Andrew ’ s horrifying transformation flashed through her head.

The words “ Grizzly Creek Ranch, est. 1871” were written in big white letters on the bear-shaped part of the sign. Underneath, in smaller letters, “ Bed and Breakfast.” Next to it, a smaller square sign that announced, “ We proudly raise organic grass-fed beef.”

She turned off the highway just past the sign and drove through a pair of tall wrought-iron gates.

From there, her car bumped along a narrow dirt-and-gravel road that wound through grass-and-sagebrush-covered hills for another mile or so until it reached a cluster of houses set on either side of the road.

She recognized the biggest house. It was Elle Swanson ’ s grand Victorian, still painted a cheery yellow. She ’ d always loved that house, with its wide wraparound porch, white gingerbread eaves, and beautiful bay windows fronted by lush flowerbeds and a big crabapple tree in full bloom.

The other houses were smaller and ranged in building style from a Craftsman cottage to a modern log cabin with huge floor-to-ceiling picture windows and a wide deck.

Following Maggie ’ s directions, Emily kept driving, following the road until she found another cluster of houses tucked away behind a hill.

The biggest house here was a Queen Anne Victorian, with a wide, white-columned porch and a small tower with a sharply pointed slate roof like a steeple attached to one corner of the house.

Finally made it!

Emily parked next to a big white pickup with a Grizzly Creek Ranch logo on the driver ’ s side door.

The front door opened immediately. A figure stepped onto the porch, silhouetted by the porch light. Even from a distance, she recognized Maggie, as tall and athletic as ever, with that unmistakable Swanson confidence. She was wearing a pale terrycloth robe over long pajamas.

Emily opened her car door and scrambled out.

“ Hey,” she said, the single word catching in her throat.

“ Em!” Maggie bounded down the steps. She froze for an instant, her eyes widening in shock, then threw her arms around Emily, squeezing so hard Emily could barely breathe. “ It ’ s so good to see you!”

Emily let herself relax into the hug, absorbing the solid warmth of her friend. For the first time since her frantic escape from Andrew ’ s house, she felt safe.

Then Maggie stepped back. She swept Emily with a look that scanned her from head to toe. “ Are you okay? Your fiancé didn ’ t, uh, hurt you, did he?”

It took every scrap of Emily ’ s willpower not to fall apart right there under the concerned warmth of Maggie ’ s gaze.

“ No, he just…” No way was Emily going to mention seeing Andrew turn into a bear. “ Just scared me. And, uh, things haven ’ t been right between us since his awful family got involved with the wedding plans. Things weren ’ t really working out, even if he hadn ’ t blown up at me this afternoon.”

During the long drive here, Emily had realized that she ’ d spent the past six months— no, longer than that —trying to fit herself inside the box Andrew had built for her.

She ’ d been so happy to get the job at Brunborn Holdings after being laid off from her previous job. Having her rich, handsome boss treat her like she was the most beautiful, special girl in the world had made her feel like the princess in a fairy tale.

For a while, anyway.

Maggie nodded, as if she understood. “ Come on inside. You must be exhausted after that long drive.”

Inside, Maggie ’ s house was just as beautiful as the outside.

Emily followed her friend into a grand foyer that led to a formal living room with beautiful hardwood floors and floor-to-ceiling bay windows. It was furnished with antique armchairs and sofas.

Beyond the living room, Emily spotted a large dining room with a crystal chandelier and dark green wallpaper and an enormous oval dining table covered by a lace tablecloth.

Ahead of her stood a grand staircase flanked by a short hallway that led to a large cased opening and what looked like a family room with a big TV and lots of kid ’ s toys at the back of the house.

“ Cade—that ’ s my husband—and D.A. are both asleep upstairs,” Maggie murmured as she led Emily into a modern kitchen with a big, stone-topped island. “ I made us peppermint tea.”

“ You ’ re married? ” Emily asked, shocked. She barely remembered to keep her voice down. “ Jeez, we really have a lot to catch up on! And who ’ s D.A.?”

Maggie flicked on the light over the kitchen island and set out two mugs, already filled with steaming tea. “ Dane Ashton. Our little boy,” she said proudly. “ He ’ s two-and-a-half and running laps around all of us. We call him D.A. to avoid confusion with my dad.”

“ Wow. Married and a kid! I can ’ t believe I missed out on so much news.” Emily picked up a mug and inhaled the minty fragrance. “ This is perfect. Thank you.”

“ Did you have dinner?” Maggie asked. “ I could heat some barley-beef soup. Or a piece of leftover lasagna? Or how about some cookies?”

“ I grabbed a hamburger and fries when I stopped for gas in Missoula,” Emily replied, settling herself on a padded stool at the island. “ But I wouldn ’ t say no to cookies.”

“ Good call,” Maggie said, opening a takeout box embossed with Cinnamon + Sugar ’ s teddy bear logo. She slid the box across the island to Emily. “ I have snickerdoodles, peanut butter cookies, molasses cookies, and coconut macaroons. All baked this morning.”

“ Oh, yum!” Emily reached for a molasses cookie.

The last of the tension knots in her gut eased under the infusion of hot tea and delicious sugary goodness.

After chewing and swallowing, she said, “ I was always jealous your mom owned the best bakery in the state. What are you up to these days, besides being married and having a baby?”

Maggie grinned as she took a seat next to Emily. “ I’m the boss lady now at Cinnamon + Sugar. Oh, and I joined the fire department. Keeps things interesting.”

Emily blinked. “ You ’ re a firefighter? Cool!”

Her friend spread her hands in a self-deprecating gesture.

“ It ’ s not that exciting, usually. Mostly car accidents and medical emergencies.

And training exercises. The last time we actually fought a fire was just before Christmas.

It was so cool to save someone ’ s house, especially since Cade and my brother and uncles were there, too. ”

Emily wondered what it felt to be part of a family as big and close-knit as the Swansons. The longing hit her so hard it made her eyes sting. “ I ’ m happy for you, Mags. I really am.”

Maggie leaned over and squeezed Emily ’ s hand. “ Ready to talk about what happened to you?”

Emily blew out her breath and debated how much to say.