Chapter 6
BOONE
From my office window, I catch a wisp of smoke curling over the ridge. At first, I figure it’s just someone burning brush. That happens this time of year, but then the plume thickens, the color darkening, and the source is closer than I’d realized.
It seems to be right over where the old Morrison cabin sits, and that means it is less than a mile from us as the crow flies. My gut tightens.
That place has been empty since we’d bought our land years ago. Dillon, Chance, and I made a point of learning every property line and getting to know every neighbor.
Word around town is that the current owners are a pair of brothers who talk about selling every few years but never follow through. The locals think one of them got too sentimental at the idea since their great-grandfather had built the cabin with his bare hands.
Or something like that. Sentimental or not, nobody has lived there for years. Wherever that smoke is coming from, the fire is unattended and much too close for comfort.
I push back from my desk and am halfway to the front door before I even realize I’ve moved. “Chance! Dillon! We’ve got smoke coming from the Morrison cabin. Let’s go.”
Chance comes sprinting up the stairs from the gym, his shirt and skin damp with sweat and his dark blonde hair sticking up in all directions. Dillon pokes his head out of the kitchen, holding a spatula in one hand and reaching around his back to untie his apron with the other.
“Smoke?” He frowns. “Like barbecue smoke or burn-down-the-forest smoke? Maybe someone in that family just finally remembered it exists and they’re warming the place up.”
“Maybe, but the smoke is too thick. It looks like the kind that gets out of hand fast if you’re wrong,” I say, already heading to the garage to grab some of the big extinguishers. “Either way, we need to go check it out.”
We load up the truck with no time to think, only to act. Back in Chicago, I’d rarely even seen a real flame, but ever since we’d moved out here, we’ve gotten more acquainted with fire than I’d ever thought possible.
The dirt road leading up to the cabin from our property twists through pines thick enough to cut off the light, as the smell of wood smoke sharpens the farther we go. When we round the last bend, I slam on the brakes, gawking at the sight that awaited us.
The good news is that it isn’t a forest fire. Instead, smoke billows out the chimney and through a half-open door. On the porch, coughing hard enough to rattle her ribs, is a petite brunette covered in soot from her boots to her cheekbones.
She looks like she’d been wrestling a fireplace and lost.
Badly.
Chance jumps out first, moving fast from the clearing where I’d parked and up the few rickety steps until he skids to a stop beside her. “Are you all right, ma’am?”
Dillon and I race after him, both of us scanning the area just in case. Meanwhile, the tiny woman blinks up at Chance like she’s wondering where he’d appeared from and if he was even real, her eyes watery from the smoke. “Define all right.”
Her voice is rough, with city edges cutting through the rasp. Dillon jogs past me with a fire extinguisher. “Well, I guess it isn’t a forest fire.”
“It’s not a barbecue either,” I mutter as I stand at the base of the steps, the extinguisher heavy in my grip and try to make sense of the scene.
No one is supposed to be at this cabin, yet here she is. Some stranger with a stubborn chin and eyes that don’t quite match her fear. There’s a spark there, even through the soot and coughing, as she looked at all three of us in turn like she couldn’t decide whether to thank us or run.
The attraction hits me hard and unexpectedly as soon as her gaze meets mine, a fiery, poison-green gaze that seems simultaneously wary and determined. It’s like catching a punch you didn’t see coming.
I see Chance stiffen beside her when she turns to him, still blinking hard but obviously a little clearer now. Dillon, of course, is grinning like Christmas has come early.
“Don’t just stand there,” she finally croaks, waving toward the smoking doorway. “You’ve got a fire extinguisher. Use it!”
It takes me a second to realize she is talking to me. I jog past her and spray the fireplace until the smoke thins and the coughing outside quiets.
I twist around and see her now sitting on the porch steps, elbows on her knees, her face still covered in soot and frustration written across her delicate features.
“I’m not sure what happened,” she says flatly. “I was just trying to build a fire, but I guess I overachieved.”
Dillon coughs back a surprised laugh. “You could say that. Around here, fire isn’t something we mess around with.”
Her eyes narrow when she looks over at him. “You don’t say.”
“Are you staying here?” Chance asks, setting the extinguisher down beside him to run a hand through his still-damp hair.
I can practically see the relief winding through him. Although we’ve been out here for a while, single-handedly taking on a forest fire isn’t on any of our wish lists this year. Meanwhile, her gaze flicks between the three of us, a little more guarded now.
“Yeah, I am. For a while.”
“Funny,” Chance replies quietly. “Nobody’s stayed here in a long time.”
She shrugs one small shoulder, the fabric of her massive hoodie shifting with the movement. “Well, then I guess I’m nobody.”
For a second, none of us says a thing. The air still heavy with smoke and that strange, electric awareness of this tiny slip of a thing who somehow still seems to radiate trouble.
Whoever she is, she doesn’t belong out here. But damned if something in me doesn’t already want to make sure she stays safe anyway.
With that thought in mind, I turn my attention back to what is going on inside rather than keeping my focus on my friends with her outside. The air is thick with the lingering stench of burned wood and smoke. We’d definitely need to open some windows to let it air out.
It shouldn’t take too long, though. The place isn’t big. Just one open room, a kitchenette, and a hallway that probably leads to a single bedroom.
Everything is covered in a fine layer of soot, like the whole cabin had aged ten years in ten minutes. I crouch near the fireplace, running a hand along the cold bricks and bending to take a quick look inside.
I’m no expert, but to me, it looks like the flue is clogged solid, probably with years of bird nests and pine needles. She’d had no chance. Any spark would’ve blown straight back into the room, exactly like it had.
Sighing as I straighten up, I sweep my gaze around the room again, quickly assessing the situation. As far as I can tell, there is no heat, no insulation worth a damn, and no working chimney.
I don’t have to be an expert or a genius to conclude she can stay here.
The thought should be logistical, just a simple observation, but as soon as it crosses my mind, a smile tugs at my mouth.
Our place is warm. Safe. With room to spare.
Hell of a coincidence.
When I glance at the open door, Dillon is crouched on the porch steps, grinning like an idiot while Chance leans against a post, his arms crossed. Between them, the woman is gesturing with one hand as she speaks, her voice low but confident.
“…hadn’t earned my damn fire-making patch. I thought I was a goner when it started, I swear.”
Whatever Dillon says in return makes her chuckle, the sound so quick and unguarded it rolls right through the smoke and burrows in somewhere under my ribs. Yep, she definitely has a spark to her.
She is a lot more brash than any woman I’ve met in a long time, quick-tongued too. I mean, she’d mouthed off to a stranger with at least a hundred pounds on her without even blinking. From what I can tell, she isn’t scared, either.
Not of us. Not of the situation.
That alone is rare out here, the street-smart, big-city vibe that makes a person so comfortable around other people you can banter even before you know their names. That’s the vibe she gave off, anyway.
“You said you saw the smoke,” she’s saying to Dillon when I tune in to their conversation again. “How did you say that happened again?”
Her tone doesn’t say cross-examination, but Chance recognizes it immediately for what it is.
“We didn’t say. Not yet, but we’ve got nothing to hide.
We live just on the other side of the ridge, and we have a lot of windows.
We’ve already told you that fire isn’t something people mess around with out here. ”
“Right,” she drawls, stretching out the word as her eyes locked on his. “So, what? You just saw the smoke and raced right over?”
“Pretty much, yep,” Dillon responds with an understanding, knowing grin. “We mean you no harm. We come in peace. All that stuff. It’s just like he said. We live right over the ridge, and we didn’t know anyone was here. If it was a fire, our house could’ve been right in its path.”
As she thinks it over, I take a closer look at her. The hoodie she wears had seen better days, the fabric stretched out and the dark blue color faded. It doesn’t do much to hide her shape, though. Those curves that don’t belong on someone so delicate.
The strong, capable lines of her legs. Clearly, her body was made for motion. Work. She hadn’t come here just to pose on the porch with the woods as a backdrop for her profile picture.
I should turn back to the fireplace to make sure nothing is smoldering there, but instead I find myself standing longer than necessary, just taking her in. When she laughs again, throwing her head back a little this time, I realize I could stare at her all day without getting bored.
But I can’t do that now. The breeze is turning into wind, and the sun will be setting any minute.
Meanwhile, she can’t stay here.
For her own safety, of course.
That is what I told myself as I turn toward the door and go back outside. “The chimney’s blocked solid. It’s not safe to light a fire here right now.”
She looks up, soot smudged on her cheek, but those green eyes sharp and alarmed. “So, what, you want me to just freeze to death?”
I meet her stare, that stubborn chin lifting like she is daring me to say yes. “No, you’re coming with us.”
Dillon and Chance are still on the porch, and if I’d had any doubts about where their heads were, one look at them cleared it up.
They’re both watching her, not being subtle about it either.
Chance with that quiet, assessing stare of his, Dillon with a grin that said he was already halfway in trouble.
The girl, for her part, stands her ground like she’d done this a hundred times before. With one hand on her hip and her chin up high, she’s covered in smoke, dust, and attitude.
The poor thing has no idea what she’s just walked in to, but I can’t help wondering if, when all is said and done, she may actually end up liking it.