Page 15

“Professional Distance”

Noah

Sheriff Callahan leaned back in his creaking office chair, reading through the incident report I'd just filed. Outside his window, Hope Peak was already buzzing with pre-holiday activity, tourists streaming in for the Fourth of July festivities.

"A stalker," he said, tapping the report. "This is serious."

"Her real name's Deirdre Danielle Lawson, goes by Didi," I explained. "She hosts a late-night radio show in Chicago called 'Late Night with Didi.' The stalker's been identified as Preston Barrett, marketing executive, mid-thirties. Chicago PD has been monitoring him, but he's gone off-grid."

Callahan nodded, his weathered face serious. "And there's reason to believe he might be headed here? To Hope Peak?"

"Her producer called this morning with news. Barrett mentioned Montana and mountain lakes in his online posts." I kept my voice professional despite the churning in my gut. "He seems to have tracked her location somehow."

"I'll contact Chicago PD immediately," Callahan said, already reaching for his phone. "We'll coordinate monitoring efforts and have officers keep an eye on the resort area without alarming guests." He paused, giving me a pointed look. "You're still off duty tomorrow. Sheriff's orders."

"Sir—"

"This isn't negotiable, Sterling. You can handle security precautions for Ms. Lawson today, but I want you to enjoy the Fourth as a civilian." His expression softened slightly. "Just remember your training. Don't let emotions cloud your judgment."

I nodded stiffly. "Understood."

"And Noah?" He waited until I met his gaze. "Be careful."

I knew what he meant. Callahan had watched me rebuild my life after loss too many times. The warning was personal, not professional.

The July heat hit me like a physical wall as I stepped outside. Record temperatures continued to bake the mountains, the air shimmering above the asphalt. My thoughts turned to Didi, alone at her cabin with only the flimsy locks and windows between her and potential danger.

I detoured to the department's storage room, signing out motion sensors, stronger door hardware, and a security camera system that I'd referenced earlier when we'd discussed improving her cabin's security.

It wasn't department standard procedure, but Callahan had looked the other way when I'd mentioned reinforcing Didi's cabin.

By the time I pulled up to our neighboring cabins, sweat dampened my uniform shirt. Didi was waiting on her porch, a glass of iced tea in hand, relief washing over her face when she saw me.

"Did you talk to the sheriff?" she asked as I unloaded the equipment.

"He's coordinating with Chicago PD." I carried the supplies onto her porch. "We'll have additional patrols during the celebration tomorrow, but they'll be discreet. No need to alarm other guests."

"Thank you." She stepped closer, her floral scent mingling with the pine-scented air. "I know this puts you in an awkward position. By the way, the resort maintenance fixed my AC while you were gone. At least one problem solved today."

"That's good news," I replied, glad she wouldn't have to endure another night in the stifling heat. "Let's secure your cabin, then I want to show you something."

***

An hour later, we'd installed new deadbolts, window locks, motion-detecting lights, and a basic security camera system. I'd walked her through basic safety protocols—keeping curtains drawn at night, varying her routine, maintaining awareness of her surroundings.

"One more thing," I said, leading her to the small clearing behind her cabin. "You should know how to defend yourself."

Didi raised an eyebrow. "You think I can fight off a stalker?"

"Self-defense isn't about winning a fight. It's about creating enough space to escape." I positioned myself in front of her. "I want to teach you a few basic moves. Just in case."

She nodded, determination replacing skepticism. "Show me."

I guided her through simple techniques—how to break a grip on her wrist, where to strike for maximum effect with minimum force, how to create distance between herself and an attacker.

Her skin warmed beneath my hands as I positioned her arms, adjusted her stance, demonstrated the proper pressure behind each movement.

"Like this?" She practiced a palm strike against my chest, the impact controlled but firm.

"Good. Remember, aim for the nose, throat, or solar plexus—vulnerable areas." I caught her hand before she could pull away. "And always be aware of escape routes. Don't stay to fight if you can run."

Our bodies were close now, my hand still holding hers against my chest. I could feel her heartbeat quickening to match mine. The air between us seemed to crackle with unspoken tension.

"What about this grip?" she asked softly, her free hand sliding up my arm to my shoulder. "How would I break free from this?"

My training vanished like morning mist on the lake. "You wouldn't need to," I murmured, voice rough. "I'd already let you go."

"What if I didn't want you to?"

Her green eyes locked with mine, challenging, wanting. Three days of knowing this woman, and already she'd dismantled defenses I'd spent years building.

"Didi," I began, uncertain what I even wanted to say. Warning her? Warning myself?

"You're scared," she observed, her insight cutting through my hesitation. "Not of Preston. Of this—of us."

I stepped back, needing distance to think clearly. "I'm not good at this."

"At what? Teaching self-defense?" Her attempt at lightness faded when she saw my expression. "Or letting someone get close?"

The question hit too close to home. "The last woman I let myself care about packed her bags and left with her executive boyfriend.

Said Hope Peak was too quiet, too predictable.

" I turned toward the mountains that had always been my anchor.

"Before that, my parents were taken without warning.

One patch of black ice, and suddenly they were gone. "

Her hand touched my back, gentle but grounding. "Noah, I'm sorry."

"Everyone leaves eventually," I said quietly. "That's just how it goes."

"Not everyone." Her voice was soft as she moved around to face me again. "Some people stay."

I laughed, the sound hollow even to my own ears. "You? You have a career in Chicago, a life a thousand miles from here. Even without the stalker situation, you'd be gone by August."

"Maybe." She didn't deny it. "Or maybe not. The world is changing, Noah. Remote work, digital connections—distance doesn't mean what it used to."

Hope flickered in my chest, dangerous and warm. I tamped it down, too aware of how quickly it could turn to disappointment. "We barely know each other."

"I know enough," she countered. "I know you wake before dawn to swim in the lake. I know you renovated your grandfather's cabin with your own hands. I know you watch out for everyone in this town, even summer tourists who can't operate a boat properly."

Her words warmed something that had been cold for too long. "Didi—"

"I know you taste like the lake and whiskey," she continued, stepping closer. "I know your hands are calloused but incredibly gentle. I know when you look at me like you're doing right now, I forget every reason I had for keeping people at arm's length."

I couldn't resist any longer. I drew her against me, one hand tangling in her hair as our mouths met. Unlike our encounter in the lake—all urgency and heat—this was something deeper, slower, more deliberate. A choice rather than an impulse.

I backed her against the cabin wall, lifting her slightly as her legs wrapped around my waist. My hands slid beneath her thin t-shirt, finding warm skin and the lace edge of her bra. She made a soft sound against my mouth, her fingers working the buttons of my uniform shirt.

"Inside," she murmured against my lips. "Now."

I carried her through the back door, not breaking our connection. The cool air of the cabin was a relief against overheated skin as we made our way to her bedroom. I laid her on the bed, taking a moment to simply look at her—flushed skin, tousled blonde hair, lips swollen from our kisses.

"You're beautiful," I said, the inadequate words all I could manage.

Her smile was radiant as she reached for me. "So are you."

We undressed each other slowly, each newly revealed inch of skin explored with reverent touches and heated kisses.

When I finally entered her, the sensation overwhelmed me—not just physically, but emotionally.

The way she looked up at me, completely present and trusting, broke open something inside me that I'd thought permanently sealed.

"Stay with me," she whispered as we moved together. "Right here, right now. Don't think about tomorrow."

I pressed my forehead to hers, our breath mingling. "I'm here. Only here."

We found our rhythm together, building toward release with whispered encouragements and breathless pleas.

When she came, her body tightening around mine, her eyes never left my face—as if what she saw there was as important as the physical sensation.

I followed moments later, her name on my lips like a prayer.

Afterward, we lay tangled together, her head on my chest, my fingers tracing idle patterns on her back.

The afternoon sun filtered through the curtains, casting golden light across the rumpled sheets.

For the first time in years, I felt no urge to retreat, to rebuild the walls that usually protected me from vulnerability.

"What are you thinking?" she asked, looking up at me.

"That I've never been good at temporary," I told her, the confession easier than expected. "Truth is, I'm an all-or-nothing kind of man."

She propped herself up on one elbow. "Is that what you think this is? Temporary?"

Before I could answer, my phone vibrated on the nightstand. I considered ignoring it, but years of law enforcement training made that impossible. "Sterling," I answered.

"Noah, it's Mike." Callahan's voice was tight with urgency. "Chicago PD just called. They've confirmed Barrett used a credit card at a gas station in Billings yesterday. He's definitely in Montana, heading west."

My body tensed. Billings was only a few hours' drive from Hope Peak.

"Do they have visual confirmation?" I asked, sitting up. Didi watched me with growing concern.

"Gas station security camera. It's him alright. I've alerted state patrol, but with the holiday traffic..." He didn't need to finish the thought. Law enforcement would be stretched thin with Fourth of July celebrations across the state.

"I understand. Thanks for the update." I ended the call, turning to Didi. "Preston Barrett was spotted in Billings yesterday. He's in Montana."

Fear flashed across her face before determination replaced it. "What do we do?"

"We stay vigilant. Security's in place. The department is aware." I cupped her face gently. "And we don't let him steal tomorrow from us. The Fourth of July at Hope Peak is something special."

"You still want to go to the celebration?" she asked, surprised.

"More than ever," I confirmed. "Every officer in town will be there. It's actually the safest place you could be." I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Plus, I was promised a day off to remember what it's like to be a civilian. I'd like to spend it with you."

She smiled, though tension still lingered in her eyes. "A date with a mountain man under the fireworks? How could I resist?"

I embraced her again, breathing in her scent, memorizing the feel of her in my arms. Professional distance be damned. Whatever came next—whether Preston Barrett or the complications of our different lives—I knew one thing with absolute certainty: Didi Lawson was worth the risk.

And for the first time since Jessica walked out, I was willing to take it.