If she ever got up the nerve, she wanted to ask the four Osprey brothers if she could photograph them. Probably in black and white, showing their handsome features.
She fell into an uneasy sleep plagued by snowstorms, Arctic monsters, and freezing rain. The dreams pressed heavy and cold, the kind that left her breath shallow even in rest. A knock on her door sliced through it.
She yelped, bolting upright, heart hammering. The room swam in that strange Alaskan half-light, neither day nor night. She shook her head, drowsy, sounding rough with sleep. “Wh-who’s there?”
“Sorry. It’s Ace.”
What the heck? She checked the clock on the mantle. Oh. Only ten. It was so weird to have night still look like a rainy day outside. Her pulse refused to slow. She reached automatically for the gun, then hesitated, her jaw tightening. With a quiet exhale, she slid the weapon into the drawer of the antique table beside the sofa. No need to greet him like that.
“You okay, May?” His voice came through, deep and low.
She brushed her hair back with restless fingers and padded to the door, still foggy, still tangled in dreams. When she yanked it open, her words came out more clipped than she intended. “Do not tell me you’re bleeding again.”
Ace looked down at her. A fresh bruise darkened his cheekbone, and a thin cut split his lower lip. He filled the doorway with his broad shoulders blocking the pale glow behind him. “Not really.”
Her irritation flared instantly. He’d gotten in another fight? “What is wrong with you?” She threw both hands up, then froze.
Because he was staring. His gaze slid slowly from her sleep-mussed hair to her bare feet, lingering in a way that sent heat creeping under her skin. It wasn’t leering. It was worse. Appreciative. Curious. Entirely aware. “Sorry,” he said quietly. “I woke you up.”
“Yeah. You did.”
“It’s ten at night on a Friday. You really need to get a life, Doc.”
“A life? Like hanging out at the tavern and waiting for someone to piss me off so I can hit them?” She pushed her wild hair out of her face.
He winced. “Touché.”
Whatever. She glared at the fully lit night outside. “When does it start getting dark again?”
Ace blinked, glancing briefly at the greyish sky before looking back at her. “You kind of forget about it once you’ve lived here a while.”
She tried not to notice how good he looked standing there. He’d changed into a light green T-shirt, faded and soft, that stretched across his torso. The color dragged her eyes straight to his. Those ridiculous, unfair eyes.
“Right around August we’ll have twilight again. Then September we get real darkness again. Northern lights, too.” He looked past her into her living room. “Do you have a minute?”
Yeah. Now she had all night, because she probably wouldn’t go back to sleep. “Sure. What the heck.” She slid aside, suddenly very aware of how close he was as he brushed by. The scent of him followed. Clean, warm, and unmistakably male. Her stomach flipped traitorously.
Ace’s gaze drifted to the pillow and rumpled blanket on the sofa. “Why are you sleeping out here?”
“I was watching a movie and fell asleep.” A total lie. She could hear the door and windows better from the couch, but he didn’t need to know that. So she shut the door and turned back to him, arms crossing loosely. “Who hit you tonight?”
Ace dropped into the matching chair opposite the sofa. The chintz blue upholstery creaked under his weight. Everything about him looked oversized against her delicate furniture. “Same moronic tourist who hit me earlier today,” he muttered. “Guy was giving a woman a hard time.”
May moved back to the sofa, pulling the blanket over her legs, grateful she’d gone to sleep in navy-blue yoga pants and a pink T-shirt. Not even remotely sexy. Unlike him. He always seemed sexy.
She looked around her small living room with its quiet wood fireplace with plasma tv above it. Besides the sofa and chair, a coffee table with two end tables comprised all of the furniture in the room. Finally, she looked at him, happy her legs were covered. Having Ace in her living room made her feel strangely exposed. Vulnerable in a way that had nothing to do with clothing. “I suppose you’re the only person who could save the woman?”
“She looked like you.”
May stilled. “Like me?”
“Yeah.” He smiled faintly. “Blonde. Same build.” His fingers brushed gingerly against his cut lip.
Was that supposed to be sweet? It kind of felt like it. Even so, enough was enough. “You don’t have to solve every problem with your fists.”
“I used an elbow.”
She fought a smile she absolutely refused to let him see. “You don’t need medical attention. Why are you here?”
