Love Me Fearless (Love Me Dangerous #3)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

WOLF CREEK LODGE, IDAHO

I step from the cab, the scent of mountain pine and fresh-cut grass filling my senses. I savor the feeling of home settling inside me for an extra second before meeting the driver at the trunk to gather my suitcase and garment bag.

“You gettin’ married?” the driver asks, cocking his head at the tidy meadow, giant white shade tent, and the twin bride and groom cabins tucked into a shaded grove on the far side.

“Me?” I laugh to cover the jolt to my stomach. “No. My best friend is.”

The man grins. “Aw, tell her congrats. I been married thirty-one years. Best decision I ever made.”

“I will.” I turn away before he notices the wistful edge in my voice.

Gravel crunches beneath my shoes as I cross to the resort registration building, a quaint one-story cabin bordered on both sides by bright pink and purple hollyhocks as tall as my waist. When I reach for the door, it swings inward, throwing me off balance, and I crash into a solid wall—only it’s not a wall—it’s my friend Hutch.

“About time, Greely!” He pulls me into a bear hug .

I laugh into Hutch’s chest as relief and a soft warmth spreads through me. His T-shirt smells like him—citrus and a hint of minerals, like he’s already had a swim in the lake. Combined with the rich scent of the pines, my sense of home is complete.

Ryan Hutchins has been my best friend since he moved to Finn River in fourth grade and beat up the bully who kept stealing my lunch. We spend a lot of time apart now that he’s a special forces operative for the Air Force, currently stationed in Florida, and I’m attending medical school in San Francisco. But the separation has only seemed to intensify my messy feelings, and it’s annoying. Hutch and I are friends, only friends, and that’s all we’ll ever be.

“Are you checked in?” I ask as we part. From his text that popped up just after my plane landed, I knew he stopped to see his mom Louisa before getting a ride to the resort.

Hutch’s deep green eyes flash with a playful gleam. “Uh, there’s been a bit of a mix-up.” He shoves his hands into his cargo shorts pockets. “Looks like we’re cabin mates.”

“Um, what?” I try to cover my shock with a glance at the receptionist, but she’s busy with a phone call, her focus on her computer screen. “I mean, what happened?” We’ve had these reservations for nearly a year.

Hutch gives me an exaggerated shrug. “It’s cool though, right? You can have the bed. I’ll crash on the couch.”

I laugh while my thoughts swirl out of control inside my head. A part of me wants to march up to the reception desk and demand another option, but I don’t want to be that girl, especially at my best friend’s wedding. Sofie deserves a stress-free, amazing day. Hutch and I can share a cabin. No problem.

“You won’t fit on the couch,” I say. “I’ll take it, you have the bed.”

“Request denied,” he says airily. “You’re gonna need a good rest after your long travel day.”

His kind smile blasts my protests to bits. “Fine,” I sigh.

He gathers my garment bag and suitcase like they weigh nothing, his muscles practically straining to break free of his T-shirt, and we turn for the door.

Outside, we follow the path past the wedding grounds, the gentle summer breeze cool on my skin.

“How’d your Cardio final go?” he asks as the path descends into a grove of tall pines.

It’s surreal to have been in the lecture hall just yesterday, then biking home in the steady commuter traffic. “Oof. I’ve never studied so hard in my life.”

“But you aced it like usual,” Hutch says, shooting me a sideways grin.

“We’ll see. Grades won’t get posted until Monday.”

Through the trees, the deep indigo of the lake glistens in the sunshine. The mineral scent I detected on Hutch strengthens, blending with the sweet notes from the meadow.

“How’s training going?” I ask.

“Brutal like always,” he says, adjusting my garment bag on his shoulder.

Hutch can’t share very much of his military life for security reasons, but I know that they do crazy hard things to prepare for intense rescue situations all over the world. Hutch is a skilled paramedic, an expert rock climber, an endurance swimmer, and regularly jumps out of airplanes in the dark of night. I’m betting he could survive for a week with just a buck knife, scrap of tin foil, and dental floss.

Hutch leads me on the spur that leads to our cabin, a single-story wood cottage shaded by aspens and tall spruce.

“Home sweet home,” he says, opening the door for me.

Inside, a square dining table and two chairs hugs the right side of the one-room cabin, with a tidy kitchenette behind it. A big window over the sink offers a view of the lake. On the left side is a couch, where Hutch has deposited his green duffel and backpack. A ladder in the middle leads to a loft where I’m assuming the bed is located. In the back is a bathroom. As in singular .

It’s only two nights. I can do this.

“You want to take a shower before rehearsal?” he asks, carrying my suitcase and garment bag up the ladder.

He says it casually, but my mind takes a dive. To the gutter.

I force myself to continue into the little kitchen and pour myself a glass of water from the tap. “Why don’t you go first?” I call out. “You’re faster.”

He descends the stairs. “Kay. Out in a minute.” He rifles in his duffel, then disappears into the bathroom. A moment later, the steady hum of water through the pipes fills the silence, muffling his soft singing.

A knock on the door startles me. I hurry to open it, abandoning my glass of water on the counter.

“Ava!” Kirilee screams, nearly tackling me with a full-body hug. Her long hair is wet, like she’s been swimming. Behind her stands her boyfriend Sawyer, dressed in damp swim trunks and a faded T-shirt, a towel hanging from his neck.

He hugs me next, his burly arms like pythons. “Heard about the cabin thing. Why don’t you and I switch?”

“We don’t mind,” Kirilee insists as Sawyer slips his hand into hers.

“And split you two apart?” I protest. “No way.”

“We’ll survive,” Kirilee says with a quick glance at Sawyer, who smiles. The energy between them seems to tighten the air molecules around us. Six months ago, my sweet friend Kirilee was engaged to a rich jerk named Birch Callahan, a green energy guru her parents had decreed suitable for saving the family business. But on the day of her wedding, Kirilee decided she was ready to chart her own path, with Sawyer at her side, and I couldn’t be more thrilled for them both.

“We’ve got it worked out,” I say.

“But there’s only one bed,” Kirilee says, frowning.

Behind me, the bathroom door pops open, and Hutch steps out dressed in just a towel .

“Oh, hey guys,” he says, completely at ease barely dressed, his tanned skin glistening with beads of water that seem to catch the rays of the lowering sun, turning them golden. “Forgot my razor,” he adds, plucking a small kit from his duffel and slipping back into the bathroom.

“It’s fine,” I say to Kirilee, forcing a smile.

We say a quick goodbye, and I gather my things for my shower. Inside my mind, I say a little mantra: It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine. Maybe if I say it enough, it’ll help it become true.

Because I’ve never felt so nervous in my life.

I’m just leaving the cabin for the rehearsal in the meadow a half hour later when Hutch returns to the cabin, a serious look on his face. “Hey, got a minute? A staff member’s daughter is having some sort of medical thing. Looks like asthma but you’re the doc.”

“Where is she?” I step off the porch and hurry up the trail, Hutch at my side.

“Up by the tent.” He’s not even slightly out of breath. “She was playing with her brother and started having trouble breathing. We called 9-1-1 but they’re at least twenty minutes out. I got a set of vitals.” He rattles off the numbers, which paint a grim picture.

We break into a jog, and at the meadow, I spot the receptionist from earlier sitting on the grass, rubbing the back of the lanky girl next to her, who is kneeling, her hands on her thighs. Even from here I can see her rapid breaths and anxious face. Standing behind them looking even more worried is a boy of about eight, his lip trembling like he’s going to cry.

As I approach, I meet the mom’s eyes. “Hi, I’m Ava. I know some first aid, can I help?”

A fearful expression fills the mom’s eyes and she moves closer to her daughter. “I don’t know.”

I squat down so I’m not towering over them. “Will you let me try?” In the world of medicine, consent isn’t something I can’t breeze over, even in an emergency.

“All right,” Mom says. “I’m Ashley. This is Marin. ”

I smile at the girl. “Nice to meet you both.” Up close, Marin’s breaths have a wheezy quality I don’t like.

“I don’t normally bring them,” Ashley says. “But my sitter cancelled last minute and we’re fully booked. Plus I couldn’t let the Whitakers down.”

“It’s all right,” I tell Ashley, hoping to stay focused on what could help her daughter and not worry about the childcare emergency that brought us here. “Marin, have you had a problem with asthma or allergies before?”

Ashley shakes her head. “No.”

“At…school,” Marin says, cutting off her mom. “When they…mow.”

“Did it feel like this?” I ask Marin. Ashley scowls, but we don’t have time to argue, and Marin is my focus.

Marin nods. “But not…this bad.”

The meadow is freshly mowed, and though we’re on the tail end of pollen season, Wolf Creek likely waters the grass to keep it lush for events.

“Hutch, find me some honey and a glass of water,” I say.

“On it.” Hutch nods at the boy. “Can you take me to the kitchen?” The boy agrees and the two race across the grass.

“Let’s move inside one of the cabins,” I say to Ashley and Marin.

Ashley and I help Marin stand. “Nice and slow,” I say to Marin while I focus on the pace of her breaths. Moving too quickly could cause her symptoms to worsen.

We step into the nearby bridal cabin. The air feels dry, but we’re at least separated from the grass pollen. “You might feel best sitting,” I tell Marin. She nods and we shuffle to the couch. Ashley sits next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

Hutch and the boy return with two packets of honey and a glass of water, but Hutch is quick to retreat, asking the boy to help him guide the paramedics to us when they arrive. I make a mental note to thank him for thinking of this later .

I mix the honey into the water with the spoon and bring it over. “Think you can drink some of this?” I ask Marin.

Her wheezing isn’t sounding better yet, but it’s not worse, so that’s promising. The honey might help too. It’s a long shot, but recent studies are finding that honey helps with all kinds of ailments, even asthma.

I settle on my knees in front of Marin so I can watch her carefully. There’s a risk the water could make her choke, which we obviously don’t want.

Marin takes a slow sip, her fingers gripping the glass. I know she’s scared, but the medics will be here soon.

“That’s good,” I say to encourage her.

Marin blinks at me and sips again. Her face looks a little less pale, or maybe I’m just hoping it does. Or it’s the warm sunlight filling the room.

“If you want, we can breathe together,” I say. “See if we can slow things down.”

I let her sip, then we take several breaths in tandem, her big brown eyes lock on mine while her mom rubs her back.

“You’re doing great,” I tell Marin.

“Better,” Marin says, nodding. A glimmer of relief edges her eyes. Like she’s just starting to realize that she’s going to be okay.

“Medics are here!” the boy says from the doorway, breathing fast.

“Oh, thank God,” Ashley says.

Two medics dressed in navy blue uniforms enter the cabin, and while the one with the kit takes over for me, I brief the other medic—what I observed, what I did.

The medic arches an eyebrow. “Honey?”

“It can ease constriction of the bronchial passages.”

He gives me an appreciative nod. “I’ll have to look that one up.”

Ashley eyes me as I step back to let the medics tend to Marin. “Thank you.”

I give her a quick smile. “Of course. ”

Outside the cabin, Kirilee, Hutch, Sawyer, Zach, and Sofie have all gathered. “Is she okay?” Sofie asks, her face tense with worry.

“Yeah, she’s all right.”

Sofie presses a hand to her heart. “Thank goodness you were here.”

Moments later, the medics wheel Marin, upright on the gurney and wearing an oxygen mask, across the meadow to the back of the waiting ambulance, trailed by Ashley and the boy.

Hutch puts his arm across my shoulder. I lean into him and exhale a full breath.

“You did good, doc,” he says.

From the other side of the reception building comes the throaty hum of the ambulance engine, then the rig lumbers down the driveway.

I glance up at Hutch. “I’m not a pediatrician yet.”

He gives a little shrug. “You’re well on your way, though. Proud of you, Greely.”

Hutch’s praise turns my insides to jelly, but I’m quick to brush it off. I’m proud of him, too. That’s how close friends feel about each other. It doesn’t mean anything special.

That afternoon, after several run-throughs of Sofie and Zach’s ceremony in the pretty meadow while the sun turns everything golden, we gather in the resort’s small restaurant for a hearty dinner filled with laughter and lively conversation. It’s lovely to have this time together before the wedding to catch up and relax. Though I have made a few friends in the city, I miss my friends and family, and home.

After dinner, our group stops in the meadow to watch for shooting stars, the mountain air cooling quickly.

“There’s Cassiopeia,” Kirilee says, pointing up. “And look! You can see Pegasus!”

Hutch comes in next to me. “I’m glad you’re not mad at me anymore,” he says in a low tone, his eyes apprehensive in the darkness. “I don’t like it when you’re mad. ”

“I don’t like it either.” Last fall, someone broke into my apartment that I share with two fellow med students. Hutch insisted I get an alarm system, even offered to fly out to San Francisco to install it. I pushed back—the guy who broke in didn’t take anything, and my scream had forced him to flee. There was no reason to believe that he’d be back.

But instead of backing down, without my knowing, Hutch had asked one of our mutual friends, Jeremy, a security officer stationed at nearby Travis Air Force Base, to secretly keep tabs on me. Hutch has a protective streak a mile wide, but this crossed a line for me.

We were at odds about it for months. I didn’t want to admit that maybe I’m not so safe in the city because then what? It’s not like Hutch is going to somehow protect me from thousands of miles away. So we compromised. I got an alarm system, and he told Jeremy to stand down.

“Too bad you only have forty-eight hours of leave,” I say. “You’ll miss the barbecue Sunday night at the Hutton’s.”

His eyes stay focused on the dark sky above us. “We’re about to deploy. You know how it is.”

I back off. Hutch loves his job. Even though it wrecks those of us who care about him.

“How long this time?” I ask.

“I’m going to miss Thea’s graduation.”

I wince. Thea is his middle sister, a gifted musician, likely headed to Cornish on a full scholarship. “That’s too bad.”

Hutch sighs. “I might miss…a lot of things.”

I give him a look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh! Shooting star!” Sofie calls out.

“Wow,” Hutch says as the comet winks out above us.

I’m still waiting for a reply, but Hutch yawns loudly. Did he mean to say that out loud?

A chill drops through me, settling hard in my gut. I don’t ever let myself think about the possibility of Hutch not making it home. Instead, I focus on the positive. Hutch is highly trained in all kinds of tactics to keep him alive and is an integral part of a specialized unit. Yes, their missions are dangerous, but I rest my faith in Hutch and his crew to survive. If I didn’t, I’d never sleep at night.

“Wanna run in the morning?” he asks, like he didn’t hear my question. “I was thinking of the lake trail, then maybe a swim if there’s time.”

“Run, yes, swim, no. Though maybe I should take out one of the kayaks, make sure you don’t drown.” Hutch routinely swims in rough ocean conditions for fun, so I’m not actually worried for his safety, yet I don’t like him out there alone.

“You always take such good care of me,” he says, pulling me into a soft hug.

I wrap my arms around his waist and sigh into his chest. He smells like sun-warmed cotton and his citrusy aftershave, and his body is warm and solid, like always.

“That’s what friends are for, right?” I lean back so I can see his eyes.

He gives me a mega-watt grin. “Right.”

Back at the cabin, I let Hutch go first in the bathroom while I dig out my pajamas, then realize the loose tank top and sleep shorts I brought are not appropriate for sharing a cabin with Hutch, even though we are just friends.

When I climb down the ladder to brush my teeth, Hutch steps out of the bathroom in a pair of pajama pants slung low on his waist. I should be relieved he’s not naked—Hutch is not shy—instead my pulse starts to thump. Thanks to his intense training—most of it outdoors—Hutch’s body is honed and muscular, his skin a golden brown from the sun.

Am I drooling?

“I even left the seat down for you,” he says with a wink.

I roll my eyes and slip past him before he notices the pause in my step.