Page 115 of One Last Stand

Dawn, with the glory of golds and reds, cascaded into the room, the light pouring in through the tall windows, onto the wooden floor. She guessed this was an Airbnb, because she discovered a welcome sign in Montelenan on the table. No internet, and according to the laminated page, the bathroom was an outhouse just off the porch. But the place also contained a hot tub and sauna, heated with an outside stove.

Snowshoes hung on the front wall, along with a map of the trails in the area.

The cabin contained a tiny kitchen, and she got up, wishing she still had both socks, and after stirring the fire back to life, she went over to the countertop and started to root through the cupboards.

A kettle, and she found a box of tea bags and another of hot cocoa packets.

She opened the front door to get snow. The air hung crisp and still in the morning, a slight wind stirring the snow from the trees. Looking up, she spotted the high exit of the tunnel.

She’d never forget, as long as she lived, the sense of flying down the mountain with Shep. A special kind of adrenaline. Addictive.

Closing the door, she came back inside and set the kettle of snow onto the stove.

Shep was awake. He had sat up, his hair standing nearly on end, sweetly tousled, and he looked over at her, blinking, then ran a hand down his face.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey.”

“I found some hot cocoa. I think this place is an Airbnb.”

He reached for his boots. “We’ll have to find the owners and settle up.” He laced up his boots. “Moose said he’d pick us up at first light.”

He stood up into the pool of sunlight, a little gold reflecting off his dark hair, his eyes blue and rich in the light.

“Then we go home.”

Yes. Yes, that had to be the right answer. She didn’t have anything to prove.

“I just can’t bear the idea of something terrible happening to you.”

Her either.

The sense of it swept through her, and for a moment, she was back in the chalet in the avalanche, so many years ago, held in his arms, safe.

Loved.

And that was it. Shep waslove. The truth swept through her, wrapped around her. Love was patient, love was kind. Love did not keep a record of wrongs. Love showed up, again and again. . . .

“You okay?” He walked over to her, touched her face.

She leaned her hand into his touch. Here. Right here was home. “Yes.”

Probably a good thing that the water on the stove had begun to boil, because really, suddenly, she wanted to sink into his arms. Which would do neither of them any good.

He’d been a gentleman last night, of course, but she’d heard the strain in his voice when he pushed her away, got up, stood outside in the cold for a moment before coming back and taking her—chastely—into his arms.

She’d met the man underneath all that calm exterior. Seen his heart. And the secret of that only stirred a desire inside.

So she walked over to the stove to grab the boiling kettle—using his coat sleeve to protect her hand—and pour water into the mugs.

The cocoa dissolved, piquing the air with the hint of chocolate.

She handed him a mug and blew on her own.

He took a sip. “That’s good.” He set the cup down and reached for his stocking cap. “We need to get you out of that ridiculous dress.”

Her eyes widened.