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At the parking lot, one of the civilian responders offers to drive us back to the cabin.

Once we’re home, Micha turns to me. “You’re a natural. You kept your cool and did great. I’m pretty sure if you don’t go with the ranger job, they’d want you permanently on SAR.”

“Thank you. That means a lot.”

“I need a shower, or do you want to go first?”

“You go. I’m going to put the left-over stew on to warm and we can eat when I’m done. It’s been a while since breakfast and I’m sure you’re hungry.”

“Starved.” His gaze runs over me. “I’ll hurry.”

My hands tremble as I pull the leftovers from the refrigerator. Now that we’re home and safe in the cabin, everything hits me at once. My fear for Micha dealing with the injured man on a narrow ledge. Then having to wait for me to be able to hold the line for him to get safely up. Yes, I’ve been studying and taken some training, but I’m not certified. And it’s a whole other ballgame when the person on the ledge is someone you love. My god, I’m not sure Micha even had space for the full length of his boot. We should have had more equipment.

I take a couple deep breaths. We weren’t on call. They were just lucky that we came by when we did and that Micha had his equipment.

Never again. Tomorrow, I complete my own pack to match his. I may not be SAR but he’s going to be mine, and I won’t take chances again.

When he comes out, I instruct him on the biscuits I whipped up and head for my own shower. Stepping under the warm water, I close my eyes. I’m shaking.

Get a grip. He’s done this for years and knows what he’s doing. He doesn’t take risks. He’s professional.

What if something had gone wrong? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know I love him.

Leaning my head against the shower stall I take several deep breathes until my heart rate slows. If you want it, you have to go for it.

Tonight. Tonight I tell him.

Decision made, a calm washes over me, and my hands quit trembling. I take a few extra minutes scrubbing and conditioning my hair, shaving my legs and other areas. After applying my favorite scented lotion, I dry my hair and pile it on top my head. I wish I would have grabbed something nicer to put on. My plaid sleep pants and long sleeve tee will have to do.

He’s built up the fire, the scent of the wood, stew and biscuits fill the air. Warm and cozy.

The table is set. He glances up from the stove where he’s stirring the stew. His gaze meets mine before letting it slide slowly down my body. He swallows hard and my confidence surges.

He’s not unaffected by me. The problem is and always has been his friendship with Dad.

I force a smile. “I’m starved.”

“Me too. The biscuits look done to me, but they aren’t my specialty. You want to check them?”

“Sure.”

“There’s coffee, water or milk?”

“I’ll have milk. Next time we go to town I’ll pick up some tea.”

“I can start making the coffee weaker.”

“No, make it like you want it. I’m not really that much of a coffee drinker.”

We work together to get everything on the table.

He’s halfway through his stew when he looks up. “You’re a damn good cook, Juni. These biscuits are better than any I’ve ever had and I don’t care there’s no meat in the stew.”

Smiling, I raise my eyebrows. “Ooh, ready to come to the dark side?”

He laughs. “What’s a vegetarian steak?”

“Uhmm, could be batter a dipped portabella mushroom with a light crust. I think you’d like it with a nice side of baked or cheesy potatoes and spinach. Next time we go to the store...”