“I BELIEVE YOU”?
Sheesh, maybe Keely should write him a song, declare her undying love. And since when had she turned into such a flirt? Maybe shewasdrugged.
She hadn’t behaved that stupidly since the last time she was onFallonand Zac Efron sat down next to her and introduced himself.
And then she went and told the whole world that she lovedHigh School Musicaland had a poster of him on her wall growing up—and could she be any more embarrassing?
She sank down on the lower bunk bed of her room in the lodge and wanted to bury her face into the pillow.
Hero? She’d called him herhero.
Maybe she could stay right here, under the blanket for the entire storm.
She didn’t hate the room, or the lodge, or the borscht, and especially not the fresh bread. And River had doctored her ankle—Keely could even walk on it—so that made her feel a little like a wimp. Hello, she could do two full sets on five-inch spikes. Not a wimp.
Truth was, she’d simply been a little overcome by his concernfor her, the fact that he’d stayed with her, even helped support her, despite his clear pain. And his soft, low words had only seeded a sort of grateful affection for him.“I will get you home,Keely.”
So yeah, a hero. But not enough to earn the soft, almost desperate“I believe you.”
Good grief. She pulled the pillow out and put it over her face. But that only conjured up the man sitting by the fire, his broad shoulders under that flannel shirt—she didn’t evenlikeflannel. And his dark, nearly black hair, the brush of whiskers ... he even smelled like smoldering flames.
Whatever. She threw the pillow away. It landed on the braided rug. Maybe she’d just been around too many guys more interested in their personal branding than...
Well, than rescuing a lost woman, despite a bum knee.
There was a story there, but clearly he didn’t want to tell it.
And maybe she didn’t want to know it—it was probably something heroic and sacrificial and ... aw, she needed to escape Alaska at the first glimmer of light.
Maybe book an appointment with her therapist.
A knock sounded on her door. “It’s open.”
River stuck her head into the room. “Hey. I wanted to check on your ankle before you went to bed. Need any more snow?”
“It’s feeling better. What was it that you used?”
“Witch hazel for the swelling and ginger tea.” She came into the room and picked up the pillow, set it on the bed. “Is the room okay?”
“It’s perfect.”
“I know it’s small, but we don’t have a lot of guests. Sometimes kids sleep in here.” She sat on a chair made with skinned logs and a thick cushion, more of the same homemade type. “That’s a patchwork quilt. My mother made it.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“It’s made from scraps, but we never throw anything away here.”
“Have you lived here long?”
“I grew up here.” She folded her hands on her lap, took a breath. “But I did leave for a while, while I got my midwifery training.”
“You’re a midwife?”
“And an herbalist. My mom is too, so...” She looked out the window and suddenly ... oh, wow ... Keely got it.
“You recognize me.”
River suddenly wore a conspiratorial look, her eyes lighting up. “You’re Bliss.”
