“Really?”
He’d landed on top of her, not his phone. That tracked. He lifted it to his ear to answer. “Yeah?”
“Hey, it’s Brock. You good?”
“Yeah, we’re fine.”
Brock blew out air over the line. “Good. Amos alerted me there were lightning strikes in the direction you went.”
“No shit.” Ace scrubbed a hand down his face. “We’re okay, though. We’re back at my place. Did anybody find the lost tourists?”
“Yep. Found them wandering near Beartrack Creek, lost but perfectly healthy. The woman had insulin with her, so no worries there,” Brock said.
Ace’s shoulders finally relaxed. “They’re totally fine?”
“Yep. They even had enough water to get them through a couple more days.”
Relief unwound the knot inside Ace. He looked over at May and gave a small, reassuring nod. “The tourists are fine. No medical help is needed.”
“Is there anyone injured from the storm who needs a doctor?” she asked, stepping closer so Brock could hear.
“Nope. We’re all down at Sam’s Tavern. She’s running on a new generator, so it’s warm, bright, and full of stranded townspeople. Come join us,” Brock said cheerfully.
“We need to warm up first, but I’ll be in touch. Thanks.” Ace ended the call and looked at the disheveled woman in his vestibule. Or what counted as a vestibule in the wilds. He admired her concern for the town. “Everyone’s fine right now, Doc.”
She rubbed her hands down her arms, still trembling. “Oh good.”
“Let’s get you into a shower.”
Her head jerked up.
He chuckled. “All by yourself. I promise.”
She studied him for several long seconds and then stepped toward him. There were different shades of blue in her spectacular eyes, darker now, deeper, charged with something that had nothing to do with the storm. “What if I don’t want to go by myself?” she asked softly.
The words stopped Ace cold. The fire cracked behind them as rain hammered the roof, and wind screamed through the trees outside, but all of it faded beneath the sudden roar of blood in his ears. His gaze locked on hers, searching, disbelieving, already burning. She hadn’t looked away.
“Are you concussed?” he asked.
She burst out laughing. “No.”
Oh. Water dripped from his hair, slid down his neck, and soaked into a shirt he barely felt anymore. Every nerve in his body lit up as awareness crashed through him with brutal clarity. The storm, the cold, and the adrenaline didn’t touch the heat detonating low and hard inside him.
Yeah, he was accustomed to women making the move on him in town. Often. But this was May Smirnov. She was too good for him. It was the truth. “May…” Her name scraped out rough, thick with a warning he wasn’t sure was meant for her or himself.
She stepped closer.
His body locked in. He saw it then. The same hunger raging through him reflected back in those impossible blue eyes. Not uncertainty. Not hesitation. Need.
Raw. Open. Undeniable.
“You saved my life,” she whispered.
Ah, fuck. Yeah, that made sense. “I know. You’re grateful.” Not once in his entire life had he been a pity screw, and that wasn’t happening now. “You’re not thinking. Just feeling.” God, she was stunning. Even all wet and muddy, the woman had class.
A new light flickered in her eyes. Amusement? “I’m not that grateful, dude. Not even close.”
He decided to join in the fun. “Why not? Without me, you’d be a barbecued blonde.”
