Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 105868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
She turned toward the window, and her eyes widened. “Oh. I need my pack. My phone’s in it, and I’m on call. Always.”
He gulped. “Yeah, you’re right.” He should’ve thought of it. The storm had scrambled his brain, and adrenaline still ricocheted through his system. “Hold on right here.”
“No, I’ll get it.” She moved toward her boots, partially bending down.
He caught her wrist and gently drew her back. “No. You stay inside.” Her skin was cold. Not just cool. Cold enough to send a hard spike of alarm straight through him. He slipped into his boots, not bothering with his coat since he was soaked through anyway, and shoved the door open. Wind slammed into him like a living thing. Rain slashed across him, brutal and relentless, each drop pointed as a needle against his face. He bent into it by driving forward with his shoulders like he had in football years ago. His lungs burned with air that felt ten degrees colder than it had any right to be.
The yard had become a blur of water and motion. Branches thrashed wildly, and loose gravel skittered beneath his boots. The ATV rocked under the force of the wind, the pack still strapped to the rear rack with a bungee cord. He wrestled it free, his fingers numb and clumsy, then pivoted back toward the cabin as thunder cracked so violently it rattled his teeth. Another flash split the sky.
He ran harder to make it to shelter. Inside, he kicked the door shut against the storm’s furious howl. Water streamed off him in rivulets. He shook out his hair, droplets spraying across the entryway. “I think Mother Nature is pissed.”
“No kidding.” May took the pack, already digging through it to study her phone. “I’m half charged, so we should be good.”
“Honey, I have electricity. You can charge it all the way.”
She looked up, her hair frizzing around her face. “That’s a good idea.”
The fire snapped and popped in the main room, the flames climbing higher now and pushing warmth into the cabin. The air carried the scent of burning wood, faint smoke, damp wool, and wet leather. His place always smelled like that after a storm. In fact, when the four of them had been growing up, the place had smelled like that mixed with sweat from whatever sport they were playing at the time.
He pointed toward the small table by the door where a charging cord rested beside a scatter of keys and a folded map. “Feel free.”
“Great.” She glanced at her phone. “Nobody’s called in with emergencies.”
As if summoned by the thought, his phone buzzed from his back pocket. He jerked, surprised, and then pulled it free. The screen glowed stubbornly alive. “Huh. My phone survived all of that.”
“Really?”
He’d landed on top of her, not his phone. That tracked. He lifted it to his ear to answer. “Yeah?”
“Hey, it’s Brock. You good?”
“Yeah, we’re fine.”
Brock blew out air over the line. “Good. Amos alerted me there were lightning strikes in the direction you went.”
“No shit.” Ace scrubbed a hand down his face. “We’re okay, though. We’re back at my place. Did anybody find the lost tourists?”
“Yep. Found them wandering near Beartrack Creek, lost but perfectly healthy. The woman had insulin with her, so no worries there,” Brock said.
Ace’s shoulders finally relaxed. “They’re totally fine?”
“Yep. They even had enough water to get them through a couple more days.”
Relief unwound the knot inside Ace. He looked over at May and gave a small, reassuring nod. “The tourists are fine. No medical help is needed.”
“Is there anyone injured from the storm who needs a doctor?” she asked, stepping closer so Brock could hear.
“Nope. We’re all down at Sam’s Tavern. She’s running on a new generator, so it’s warm, bright, and full of stranded townspeople. Come join us,” Brock said cheerfully.
“We need to warm up first, but I’ll be in touch. Thanks.” Ace ended the call and looked at the disheveled woman in his vestibule. Or what counted as a vestibule in the wilds. He admired her concern for the town. “Everyone’s fine right now, Doc.”
She rubbed her hands down her arms, still trembling. “Oh good.”
“Let’s get you into a shower.”
Her head jerked up.
He chuckled. “All by yourself. I promise.”
She studied him for several long seconds and then stepped toward him. There were different shades of blue in her spectacular eyes, darker now, deeper, charged with something that had nothing to do with the storm. “What if I don’t want to go by myself?” she asked softly.
The words stopped Ace cold. The fire cracked behind them as rain hammered the roof, and wind screamed through the trees outside, but all of it faded beneath the sudden roar of blood in his ears. His gaze locked on hers, searching, disbelieving, already burning. She hadn’t looked away.