Chapter 1 Sawyer
ONE
SAWYER
“Are you thinking about volunteering with the rescue team this winter?” Noah asks as we leave the old fire station. Snow comes down heavier and heavier every hour, blanketing our town in white.
I shrug, staring up at the silver sky. “What else would I do?” I pull my keys from my back pocket. “No fires this time of year.”
The burned ex-firefighter snorts as he comes to a stop by his truck. “Let Cap know when you get a chance. He’ll probably appreciate the extra set of hands this time of year.”
“Can’t wait to see the stats when the snow clears of how many hikers needed to be saved.
” The rescue team, pretty infamous for their ability to lie low deep in the mountain and find hikers no one else can, loves to put on a little show-and-tell at the end of winter for those of us who volunteer as a reminder to block the trails and warn tourists not to go out on the mountain when the snow is so heavy.
It’s not our fault no one listens.
Noah just claps me on the shoulder and shakes his head. “I have to go pick up my girl,” he says quietly, bowing his head. “Are you good to make it up the mountain?”
Part of the reason we were even down here today was to lend a hand to the mountain rescue team and monitor the land around our cabins. Steer any potential idiots away from hiking during winter and report anything suspicious.
All I want to do is go back up and lie low for the rest of the season. I can’t imagine what the hell is going through Noah’s mind, especially since he’s got a lady now who needs to keep moving off the mountain for work.
Seems ridiculous, but I haven’t actually seen Noah’s face in years. He’d been an even worse hermit than me, hiding himself away up the mountain without leaving for months at a time.
It shouldn’t make me feel the way it does. Not quite jealous, and not even really lonely. The mountain is my haven, the cabin my protection against my past. The last thing I need is for it to be torn apart by someone who could never fit into my life.
With a shake of my head, I wave him off.
My gaze darts to the darkening sky, shivering as the wind picks up and blows the snow sideways.
Not to my surprise, the once busy street empties quickly.
Some dart into storefronts for protection from the weather; others get in their cars and make the smart decision to go home.
I’m ready to do the latter.
When I get into the truck, I do a check of everything I have from the meeting before pulling out.
As I take to the main street of Willow Ridge, I find the town emptying of its usual suspects.
The Christmas markets set up in the town square pull down for the day, efficient in their ability to pack their shit after years of perfecting the craft.
Those who once admired the markets close themselves in restaurants and cafes around the square, seeking temporary shelter before they make the dash to their cars and get the hell out of here.
I feel that familiar itch to do the same and get the fuck out of town to hibernate for the rest of winter.
I’m ready for the rescue team; last fall, I set up motion-activated cameras around my property, especially where a trail cuts through my parcel of land.
Not only do I have access to the cameras, but I made sure the captain of the rescue team does, too.
I make it to the grocery store to restock on some necessities, knowing damned well I won’t want to come back anytime soon. As I get out of the truck, an older, beaten and worn one pulls in beside me. The engine crackles, churning loudly.
I shake my head and ignore the chill trying to settle deep into my bones as I step over a large snow pile. Just as I do, I hear a curse, sneeze, then another curse from whoever came from the other truck.
I shouldn’t care. Should ignore and keep going. But there’s something about that little sneeze, the way she says fuck under her breath, that has me turning around.
Standing in the snow is a gorgeous, curvy woman with ink-black hair pulled under a knit beanie. The heavy coat she wears shows every curve of her body, right down to the swell of her very large stomach.
My heart skips a beat at the sight of her. Her pale skin is flushed from the cold, cheeks a rosy pink, nose red. The protective side of me wants to tell her to go home before the storm hits, because she most definitely shouldn’t be out here looking nine-months pregnant alone.
But I grit my teeth and take a step back, then another. It’s not my place, I remind myself, hands forming fists. And I shouldn’t care.
I don’t like kids. I don’t like pregnancy. And I most definitely have no place in my damned head to be worrying about either.
Sighing, I walk right past her into the grocery store, forcing myself not to look back when I hear her curse again. Sure as fuck isn’t my problem. I repeat that over and over again as I grab the remaining few things I need to survive a winter up on the mountain—alone.
Ignoring the heat in my chest when I see her waddle through the aisles is hard, but I try to disregard the knot forming in my stomach when I watch her pull the beanie off and shake out her long, dark hair.
Getting the fuck out of there as soon as I can, I dump the groceries in the back of the cab.
If it weren’t for the fact that I needed gear from the hardware store, I’d be on the road back to my cabin right now.
But of course, I need gas for the generator.
Solar panels are useless when they’re covered in heavy layers of snow and there’s no sun.
As I drive, I push her out of my mind completely. There’s nothing worth getting hung up about. She’s gorgeous, but that’s it. My dick is doing all the thinking.
And she’s pregnant with another guy. There’s nothing that terrifies me more than responsibility that isn’t mine.
But no matter how hard I try to get her out of my head, those blue eyes I barely caught sight of are there every time I blink. She’s the worst kind of distraction, I tell myself.
The kind of distraction that could break a man like me.
And I have no desire to be broken by a woman like her.