Chapter 1 #2
Beck’s gaze drifted to the badge before returning to my face.
The furrow remained between his brows. Then his features smoothed, and a hint of humor entered his eyes.
“That all sounds very impressive, Ms. Mills, but I’m afraid it’s lost on me.
I wasn’t the best student, and I barely scraped by with a high school diploma.
” His smile grew, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes fanning wider.
“There’s no need for me to speak to Dr. Henry. I’ll take your word for it.”
The tingling in my hand spread up my arm. The fire crackled again, but the noise rolled right over me, Beck’s scent mingling with the cinnamon in the air.
“You’re welcome to stay as long as you want,” he said. “I assume you brought luggage?”
Somehow, I got my mouth working. “Um, yes. In my car.”
Duh, Charlotte. Where else would it be?
He nodded. “I’ll bring it up.”
“Oh, you don’t have to—”
“I insist. This is an old building, and the stairs are narrow.” He turned. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your room.”
“Thank you,” I managed, following. He led me down a short hallway to a set of stairs every bit as narrow as he promised.
But the rest of the bed and breakfast was just as cozy and charming as the foyer, with dark wood, plush Victorian rugs, and vintage-looking prints of trees and animals in gilt frames.
“This is the best room,” Beck said, opening the door to a spacious suite. “It’s quiet, too. You’ll have the whole second floor to yourself.” He pointed toward a closed door. “And it has its own bath.”
“It’s lovely,” I said, taking in the double bed with its tasteful quilt and mounds of pillows. A reading nook spread underneath a bay window, upholstered chairs set at angles between a leather ottoman. A desk in the corner offered an inviting place to work at the end of a day in the field.
Beck went to a floor lamp in the reading nook and turned it on.
He returned to the center of the room, light from the window streaming over his thick shoulders.
His jeans hugged a trim waist and muscular thighs.
He had to be pushing fifty, but he was clearly in excellent shape.
He looked like he’d singlehandedly built the bed and breakfast with nothing more than a saw and hammer.
“…but the kitchen is open whenever you need it. Just help yourself.”
I jerked my eyes from Beck’s chest. Oh god, I’d been staring. And now he stared, clearly expecting a response.
“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice strangely breathless in my ears. “I didn’t catch that.”
He blinked, his long lashes the same black shade as the darker strands in his hair. “I’ll have breakfast for you every morning at seven. Unless that doesn’t work?”
I swallowed. “I plan on starting work pretty early each day. And I don’t want to put you out. I’m perfectly fine with a muffin or banana.”
He dipped his head. “I can do muffins and bananas.” He moved to the door, then turned at the threshold, one big hand braced on the frame. “I’m sure you’re tired from the trip. I’ll leave your luggage outside the door, and I’ll bring up some dinner in a bit. All right?”
“That sounds perfect.”
He gave another nod, patted the frame once, then left.
For a long moment, I just stared at the door. Then I released a slow, uneven breath. Beck’s scent lingered in the air, that spicy, masculine essence overlapping with whatever he was baking downstairs.
God, did he actually bake? And why was that so hot? Wait. It didn’t matter how attractive he was. I was in Bear Cove to work, not ogle the innkeeper.
Giving my head a hard shake, I went to the window.
It overlooked the main street—well, the only street—which was deserted.
No one came in or out of the few shops. No one moved down the sidewalks.
Online reports said the town’s search and rescue crews stayed busy during skiing season, with injured people getting airlifted to Anchorage.
Other than that, my internet searches had raised more questions than they answered.
Where was Bear Cove’s animal population?
Was the area plagued by an unknown predator?
Was human behavior interfering with natural habitats?
When satellite imagery had turned up vast swaths of blurry images, my academic department had contacted local researchers, who installed monitoring equipment in the forest.
The readings were troubling…and often nonsensical.
Ecological dead zones usually happened in nautical areas, where pollution or a lack of nutrients meant water could no longer sustain life.
Bear Cove wasn’t near an ocean, but it showed the same kinds of signatures as a dead zone.
Even the insect population seemed suppressed.
Something had to be causing it. So, what was it? An unauthorized mining operation? Industry runoff? Neither seemed plausible. Bear Cove was isolated, yes, but satellite imaging should have revealed the presence of heavy machinery or disturbances in the mountains.
Questions spun in my mind. Tomorrow, I’d head into the forest and set up instruments.
Dr. Henry had seen to it that I was well-supplied.
I had everything I needed to collect water and soil samples.
If I could figure out what was behind the anomaly, my research might help other scientists.
It could also land me a permanent job and the word doctor in front of my name.
Footsteps outside my door made me look over my shoulder. A soft thump drifted through the wood, followed by retreating steps. I waited for them to fade, then crossed the room and opened the door. My luggage—all of it—sat outside, my suitcase and equipment stacked neatly.
Beck had carried over a hundred pounds of scientific instruments upstairs in one trip.
The creak of floorboards echoed from somewhere downstairs. Did he live in the bed and breakfast? He must. The place was obviously more than a business. It was his home.
And now I was staying with him. Alone.
No matter. He was polite and kind. Probably twenty years my senior.
So why were my fingers still tingling? Looking down, I flexed them, willing away the strange sensation.
It was the weather. Nothing more. I wasn’t used to the Alaskan chill, and I’d been traveling all day. A hot shower, a good meal, and bed would do me good. Then I could start fresh in the morning.
But as I carried equipment into my room, the spicy scent lingered in my lungs.
In the bathroom, I unpacked my toiletries and lined them up on the porcelain sink.
An amber-colored bottle caught my eye, Dr. Henry’s neat handwriting gleaming against the white label.
Not a prescription, but he’d handed them to me after the third time I nodded off during office hours.
Six months now. Without the pills, I’d lie awake for hours, my mind racing. With them, I’d fall asleep easily enough, but the nightmares would come, the fractured images slipping away when I woke.
Still better than staring at the ceiling until dawn.
I shook out a pill and swallowed it dry, then finished unpacking. Tomorrow, I’d start my research. I’d come to Bear Cove to prove myself.
And that was exactly what I was going to do.