Page 3

Chapter 3

Firelight Confessions

Four days. Ninety-six hours. That's how long I've been back in Denver, and I still can't get Cole Blake out of my head.

I pace the length of my sleek, modern apartment, phone in hand, staring at his number for what feels like the hundredth time. Outside, another snowstorm rages, not as severe as the one in Angel's Peak but bad enough to make the city lights blur into hazy halos thirty floors below.

The interview went perfectly. Dr. Samuel never stood a chance—I was prepared, polished, and passionate. The board all but confirmed the position is mine; they're just waiting on final approval from the hospital CEO, who's traveling this week.

I should be ecstatic. Instead, I keep replaying that kiss in my mind, feeling the phantom pressure of Cole's lips on mine, his hand cradling my head with that perfect balance of gentleness and command.

"This is ridiculous." I toss my phone onto the couch and walk to the floor-to-ceiling windows.

I barely know the man. One snowed-in night, one morning working together, one kiss—albeit one hell of a kiss—does not constitute a relationship.

Yet I can't shake the feeling that what happened between us was significant.

Different.

The kind of connection people search years for and rarely find.

My phone buzzes with an incoming text, and I nearly trip over my own feet rushing to check it. Not Cole—just the hospital scheduling office confirming tomorrow's surgeries.

With a frustrated sigh, I grab my tablet and pull up the weather report for Angel's Peak. The storm that hit Denver earlier this week is headed that way, dumping even more snow on the mountain town. I wonder how Cole is managing, if the clinic is busy with weather-related injuries, and if he thinks about me as much as I dream about him.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I dial his number. It rings four times, and I'm about to hang up when he answers.

"Angel's Peak Medical Clinic." His deep and slightly rough voice sends an immediate jolt through me.

"Cole? It's Tess."

A beat of silence, then: "Tess." Just my name, but the way he says it—warmth and surprise and something more—makes my pulse quicken. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about me."

"Not likely," I admit, sinking onto my couch. "How are you? I saw you're getting hit with another storm."

"It's pretty bad. Been here since yesterday morning—roads are completely closed again." He sounds tired, but there's a smile in his voice. "How was your interview?"

"Good. Really good, actually. They're just waiting on final approval, but it looks like the position is mine."

"Congratulations, Dr. Carrington. Well-deserved, I'm sure."

"Thank you." An awkward pause follows. There's so much I want to say, yet nothing seems right. How do you tell someone you can't stop thinking about them without sounding desperate or delusional?

Cole breaks the silence. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this call? Medical consultation? Weather report? Burning desire to hear my voice?"

I laugh despite myself. "Maybe a little of all three."

"I like that answer." The low timbre of his voice sends warmth flooding through me. "Especially the last part."

Another pause, this one charged with unspoken words.

"I've been thinking about you," I finally admit, closing my eyes. "About that kiss."

"Just the kiss?" The teasing challenge in his tone makes my skin tingle.

"No," I confess. "Not just the kiss."

"Good." His voice drops lower. "Because I've been thinking about a lot more than that. Remembering how you felt pressed against me. Imagining what would have happened if you'd stayed."

My breath catches. The directness of his words, the confident way he expresses his desire without hesitation or apology, is inexplicably arousing.

"Cole," I begin, not even sure what I'm going to say next.

A crash sounds in the background on his end, followed by muffled voices.

"Damn it," he mutters. "Tess, I need to go. Sounds like we have an emergency coming in."

"Of course," I say, professional instinct kicking in. "Go."

"I'll call you back," he promises, and then he's gone.

I stare at my phone, equal parts frustrated and concerned. After a moment's hesitation, I text him: Let me know if you need any help, medical or otherwise.

I set my phone aside and try to distract myself with case files for tomorrow's surgeries. It doesn't work. Every few minutes, I check my phone, wondering what kind of emergency pulled him away, if he's handling it alone, if he's safe.

Two hours later, my phone finally rings.

"Tess?"

"Cole? What happened? Is everything okay?"

"Hey." He sounds exhausted. "Yeah, everyone's okay now. Family of four tried to drive down from their cabin during the storm. Car slid off the road into a snowbank. Nothing serious, just some minor injuries and hypothermia, but they were pretty shaken up."

"Are they still at the clinic?"

"No, I stabilized them and put them into a room at the inn down the street. Roads are still impassable, so they can't get home, but at least they're warm and safe." He sighs heavily. "Sorry about cutting our call short."

"Don't apologize," I say firmly. "It's what we do, right? Emergencies first."

"Right." He's quiet for a moment. "It made me think, though. About how you handled things here at the clinic. Not many specialists would have jumped in like that."

"Just doing my job," I echo his words from days ago.

"No," he corrects me. "You were doing my job. And doing it well." Another pause. "I miss having you here."

The simple admission hits me with unexpected force. "I miss being there," I reply softly.

"Then come back."

"What?" I sit up straighter.

"Come back to Angel's Peak." There's no hesitation in his voice, just that same quiet confidence I remember. "This weekend. The roads should be clear by Friday morning."

"Cole, I—I have surgeries scheduled through Friday afternoon." I’m caught off guard by the directness of his invitation.

"So come Friday night. Or Saturday morning." His tone softens slightly. "Look, there's something worth exploring between us. Don't tell me you don't feel it."

"I do," I admit, the words slipping out before I can analyze them. "But it's complicated. I'm in Denver, you're there, and with my new position?—"

"I'm not asking you to move here," he interrupts gently. "Just come for the weekend. See where this goes. After that, we'll figure it out step by step."

It's the most sensible thing anyone's said to me in a long time. Not grand promises or elaborate plans—just a simple invitation to explore a connection that feels too powerful to ignore.

"Okay," I hear myself say. "I'll come."

"Good." The satisfaction in his voice sends a pleasurable shiver down my spine. "Text me when you're on your way. I'll be waiting."

"Cole," I hesitate, then push forward. "What is this? Between us, I mean."

"I don't know yet," he answers honestly. "But I intend to find out. Don't you?"

When we hang up, I sit motionless for several minutes, replaying the conversation. What am I doing? I haven't had a serious relationship in years, haven't even wanted one with my focus on my career. Now I'm driving back to a mountain town for a man I've known less than a day?

As crazy as it seems, it feels right in a way I can't explain or rationalize. Something is pulling me back to Angel's Peak—to Cole—and for once in my meticulously planned life, I want to follow that pull and see where it leads.

The drive to Angel's Peak on Friday evening is nothing like my harried journey the week before. The roads are clear, the sky a deep, star-filled expanse above the mountains. My car climbs smoothly through the switchbacks, each turn bringing me closer to Cole and whatever awaits us.

I booked a room at Angel's Peak Lodge this time—no need to rely on clinic couches or Jenny’s family cabin, though the memory makes me smile. I packed for two nights, telling myself this is just a weekend getaway. A chance to explore the chemistry between us and see if there's anything real beneath the intense attraction.

Though it’s well past regular business hours, the clinic lights are still on when I drive through town. I'm tempted to stop, to surprise Cole there, but decide against it. Better to check in at the lodge first and freshen up after the long drive. I text him my arrival and continue up the mountain.

The lodge is everything a mountain retreat should be—a massive stone fireplace in the lobby, exposed wooden beams, and staff dressed in flannel and denim. My room is cozy rather than luxurious, with a king-sized bed covered in a patchwork quilt and windows that will offer mountain views come morning.

I've just emerged from a quick shower when my phone buzzes.

Just finished at the clinic. Can I see you tonight? Or are you too tired from the drive?

I hesitate only briefly before replying: Not too tired. Come to the lodge?

His response is immediate: On my way. 20 minutes.

Twenty minutes suddenly seems both too long and not long enough. I blow-dry my hair, apply light makeup, and change three times before settling on jeans and a soft blue sweater that brings out my eyes. Casual but not too casual.

At precisely nineteen minutes after his text, there's a knock at my door. My heart hammers against my ribs as I cross the room to answer.

Cole fills the doorway, looking even better than I remember. He's traded scrubs for dark jeans and a charcoal henley that stretches across his broad shoulders. His hair is slightly damp, as if he's just showered, and the scent of his soap mingles with the crisp mountain air clinging to his clothes.

For a long moment, we just look at each other, the week's separation falling away as if it never existed.

"Hi," I finally say, stepping back to let him in.

He enters, bringing with him a presence that immediately makes the room feel smaller. His eyes take me in slowly, appreciatively.

"You look beautiful."

"Thanks." I'm suddenly nervous, unsure of the protocol for whatever this is between us. "How was your day?"

"Long. Better now." He stops in the middle of the room, hands in his pockets, an uncharacteristic hesitation in his stance. "I wasn't sure you'd come."

"Neither was I," I admit, moving to stand before him. "But I couldn't stay away."

Something shifts in his expression, the uncertainty replaced by a focused intent that quickens my pulse. Slowly, deliberately, he raises one hand to cup my cheek, his thumb tracing my lower lip in a gesture that's both tender and possessive.

"I haven't been able to stop thinking about you." His voice drops to that low register that seems to resonate directly in my core. "About that kiss. About what I want to do to you."

The directness of his words sends heat cascading through me. With anyone else, such boldness might seem presumptuous, but from Cole, it feels like a promise my body has been waiting to hear.

"Show me," I whisper, the last coherent words I manage before his mouth claims mine.