“It saves resources to hunker down together during a crisis. The original founders built this lodge first, and then the homes. Not everyone is here, but most of the families show up. Like a big family reunion.”
Griffin got up. “We opened a room for you. It’s upstairs, near the front of the lodge, right next to your friend Keely. It has a moose on the door. By the way, I’m on night shift, so don’t worry about dousing the fire.”
“Night shift?”
“Makes everyone feel better if someone is up and around, watching the fire. I told you it was like the Night’s Watch.”
“I never saw the show.”
“Let’s just say we’re the bastion in the cold, dark night.” Griffin turned the chair back around.
Dawson watched him walk over to the kitchen area, now partially closed up. His wife came out, gave him a hug, leaning against him.
Dawson looked away, staring into the fire, and for some reason, the memory of holding Keely against him, helping her through the forest, rose, took hold.
She had pretty eyes. Hazel-blue, with flecks of gold, and maybe he’d held her gaze a little too long once, trying to figure her out. What was with the whisper? Or maybe she’d just exhausted her voice from screaming.
Tough, because once she’d pulled off her boot, he imagined the pain she’d endured. And she knew guns—her answer about the shots fired and the magazine capacity of a Glock 19 hung on to him.
But frankly she also reminded him of, well, Caroline. He blew out a breath.
This time, no one died on his watch.
He closed his eyes, fatigue running fingers through him. But shoot, as if conjured by his thoughts there she was—“Get me home,Dawson,please get me home.”
“Dawson?”
He jerked, spilled his coffee as he opened his eyes.
Keely had come to the room, her ankle wrapped tight, leaning on a crutch. She wore a pair of thick sweatpants and a knitted sweater, her blond hair down.
He put her at five foot four, very petite, maybe too skinny, really, without all her extra padding of outerwear. She sat in the chair Griffin had vacated. Glanced at Caspian. He’d lain down, head on his paws.
She cleared her throat but her voice came out just above a whisper. “I wanted to say thank you.”
Without the roar of the wind to cut off her voice, he heard her without a problem. “You’re welcome. Sorry about my dog.”
Caspian got up, moved over to her, and she jerked, pulled up her legs.
“He’s friendly, I promise.”
“Sorry. Reflex.” She nodded, reached out, patted him on the head. “He’s big. And he did try to eat me.” She gave a little yelp when he put his snout on her lap. “He’s a little forward.”
“Casp—get down.”
“No, it’s okay.” She considered Caspian a moment. “He has pretty eyes.”
“Says you and every other woman on the planet.”
“What, you jealous?” She smiled, winked.
And words simply swooshed out of him.What—?He swallowed, then managed, “No. I mean ... what?”
She giggled, something soft, and given the last five hours, it just reached in and loosed the tough knot inside. And then, as if she realized it, she put a hand to her mouth and stared at the fire. “I think I’m drugged.”
“What?”
“I don’t know. First I’m in a plane crash and then chased through the woods, and now I’m here, in some sort of Alaskan Shangri-la, eating borscht and fresh bread ... what is happening? And ... how is it that not one, but two heroes found me in the middle of nowhere?”
