Page 13 of Major Love

“She doesn’t want the house painted pink,” he rumbles quietly, swiping a large hand through his hair. “Told her I’d start making up the baby’s room and said I’d get us a couple paint samples.”

They’ve only known about his fiancée’s pregnancy for a grand total of ten days, but the second that they found out about it my brother instantly moved her into his place. Mitch is fromPhoenix Falls and Harper’s from LA, but she’s been embracing the small-town life like she was made for it.

I jerk my chin at the basket gripped in his fist and he silently shows me the rest of the choices.

Primrose yellow, sugar-crystal blue, and three different shades of baby pink.

A smile crease cuts into the hollow of my cheek.

Someone’s hoping for a baby girl.

“You fuckin’ marshmallow,” I rumble teasingly, and he huffs out a laugh, his neck turning red. “You been in here long?”

“Five minutes. What was the hold up?”

I shake my head as we check the quantities. “Got a call from search-and-rescue. Almost had to head up to Bear Pass.”

“Jesus Christ,” he exhales, rubbing his palm down his face. “Tell me you didn’t actually have to go up there this morning.”

“Had to climb the ridge in the snowmobile, but the hikers were just on the border. Two of them, not from around here, and they didn’t cross into bear territory. They didn’t realise that ‘no snow in town yet’ doesn’t translate to ‘no snow on the peaks’, and that when the snow starts up there it doesn’t stop for four damn months.”

I got them down without a scratch but those are two lucky motherfuckers.

“They were hiking up there?” Mitch asks, his brow arched with disbelief. “Up near Bear Pass? In – what – seven inches of snow?”

After working with Phoenix Falls’ search-and-rescue department for the past four winters, I’m no longer surprised by the reckless behaviour of some out-of-towners.

And God knows how many more searches I’ll end up doing before the winter starts thawing in a couple months’ time.

But even though some hikers can be careless, at the end of the day they’re harmless, so my being situated at the base of themountains gives me the perfect location to provide help when needed.

During spring and summer, I’m off of search-and-rescue duty so that I can focus all of my time into my company, Coleson Construction. But when the large-scale construction jobs finish up at the end of the Fall, the team spends the winter working small-town fix-ups, freeing up my schedule for a couple mountain search missions every week.

Having my house situated in the lower mountains means that I can be on-call whenever I want to be, and being able to ride a snowmobile, as well as having a past operating high-stakes missions, means that I’m as well suited for the job as the job is well suited for me.

I was with the US Military Police for more than a decade before I received honorary discharge, but just because I’m no longer in the Army doesn’t mean that I wanted to quit serving the people of my country. And even though the search-and-rescue department is small scale in the scheme of things, it’s hard not to offer your help when you were built with the natural hardware.

Physical strength. Integrity. The ability to compartmentalise self-sacrifice.

At the end of the day, it’s straightforward. Even the smallest acts of decency make a difference.

I breathe in a deep chest-swelling inhale and then hunch down to pick up the first sack of subsoil.

Mitch sighs quietly beside me and then hunches down to do the same.

“Can’t believe you’re doing this,” he grits out, throwing one bag over his shoulder and grabbing another in his fist.

A low rumble sounds in my chest as I hoist up another sack.

“You did it,” I reply gruffly. “How hard can it be?”

He shoots me a dry look and starts heading toward the counter.

“I didn’t do it in the middle of winter,” he rumbles, dropping the bags in front of Tripp as I heave down mine.

“You did it in the Fall. Same freakin’ difference.”

He rolls his eyes, before glancing down at his basket of small paints.

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